According to Writer’s Digest, the sixth sign that I’m getting closer to being published is:

“Looking back, you understand why your work was rejected, and see that it deserved rejection. You probably even feel embarrassed by earlier work.”

Thus, according to Writer’s Digest, I should be a famous novelist, pulling down an upper-six-figure income. I know, the article says it’s a sign of getting “closer to publication,” but I think I get to go straight to rich and famous for scoring bonus points: my self-esteem has been MIA since birth. I’ve always felt those things about rejection and embarrassment. Nice to know my predilection for hamstringing myself and kicking me when I’m down is finally going to pay off.

You’re all invited to the book signing party. It’ll be a raucous affair next to my pool, behind the expansive stable and immaculate riding arena. There will be tasty finger foods, none of which will be low fat or nutritious. Handsome cabana boys will be serving hard liquor and champagne from the patio bar. There will be no sexy barmaids because … well, it’s my party and I say so. However, there will be fireworks after dark.

And should anyone be too drunk, too full or too enamored with my cabana boys to drive home, they can feel free to slumber the party. My ginormous house and guest facility will be able to accommodate a wealth of overnight visitors.

I’m nothing if not gracious at pam[at]