One day, about oh, two or three or five years from now, I woke up, checked my blog numbers and my ebooks sales, and realized that I had gone viral overnight. I turned on the television, and there was Robin Roberts on Good Morning America talking about my book, and what a phenomenon it was. I was outselling JK Rowling and Stephen King and George RR Martin combined.
You wouldn’t believe what my Adsense revenue was that day if I told you.I knew it was bound to happen. After all, I’m a really good writer, and lots of people had been telling me for a long time that my blogs and my fiction were both useful and entertaining. But if you want to know a secret, things didn’t change as much as I expected them to.
My old dog still died, just as I had expected – but I was able to get a pair of red and white Irish setter pups and support the recreation of a dying breed, just like I’d dreamed of. And my old dog’s remains are buried under a gorgous stone in my back yard.
Teenager still graduated from high school right on time (and with lower grades than he was capable of) – but I was now able to pay for him to go to any college he could get accepted at.
Husband still had to change careers due to his chronic pain issues – but I was able to support him through the transition, and he got far better medical care than he would have otherwise.
My friends from Livejournal and Facebook and Google + still meant as much to me as ever – but I was now able to visit them, even my Kiwi friends down in New Zealand. (waves)
I have to admit, I now have a housekeeper come in three times a week, and she does the laundry, too. But that would have happened even if I hadn’t gotten fabulously wealthy. I hate housework, and I hate laundry even more.
I was able to develop the housing unit for chronically homeless adults, so now fifty people who would otherwise be on the streets, in shelters or flop houses have some dignity, community, and a staff that understands their issues and helps them cope with them. So that was pretty cool.
I didn’t move out of my house, but I did spring for the major repairs it needed, spruced up the yard, built a wrap around porch, bought the lots behind it and to the side, and built a writing studio/guest house over the new three car garage. I’m in the process of going all solar and wind, too.
I also bought some land north of Kansas City, large enough for a healthy, happy deer herd and some pheasant and duck and quail, and built a straw bail tiny house on it for weekend trips with the husband to get away from town. It’s close enough to Weston to get awesome Irish food and music, and go antiquing now and then.
I have chickens now. Only a dozen or so, but they all have names and swarm around me when I feed them. They love their portable hutch, but only retreat to it at night. The rest of the time they wander around the yard freely.
Now I get to travel from city to city to meet you all, at book signings and conventions and speaking engagements. I still juggle several pseudonyms for the various types of books I write (romance, SF and fantasy, contemporary, and non-fiction), but now the back cover states my real name ‘writing as’ whichever pseudonym I’m using. I’m no longer afraid of being fired by a boss for my blogging.
I have freed up more time to write. I write a blog post a day, and then the rest of my work day is working on various projects. Paramount picked up the option for one of my young adult fantasies as a series, and I am excited at the young lady they cast in the lead. She’s going to be perfect!
I still find time to volunteer at the homeless shelters here in town, and I gotta tell you, it means more to me to be famous here than anywhere else. Every time I walk through the door I get mobbed, and I fist bump and high five and smile and laugh my way through the room. So and so still has urinary continence issues and stinks to the high heavens, and I have yet to ever see What’s his name sober, but they’re both old friends and greet me like I’ve made their day.
I do have to admit that I have developed a problem with high end yarn, and fabric, and books. They are threatening to overflow their bounds. Husband is threatening to build another house just for them.
But that money, when fame and fortune hit? For me it primarily meant security and safety, and the power to build a better world, not a way to enrich my life. They tax the hell out of me every year, and I grin ear to ear as I sign the check.
- This is a fantasy. It is only a fantasy. If I were actually rich and famous I’d have an actual desk chair that was comfortable to sit in, instead of an old beat up easy chair. I now return myself to my local obscurity and poverty.