At long last, THE STAR-TOUCHED QUEEN…exists.
I have imagined this day since the time I wrote my first story about a queen ladybug laying waste to a kingdom of aphids (…rather gruesome first tale…). I did my best to write neatly and in straight lines on precious computer paper. I wrote it first in pencil. Then I traced it in pen. Then I stapled the pages together, and handed it to my parents.
They weren’t exactly raptured by my brilliance.
But they were still encouraging!
Since then, I have wanted to be a writer. In my imagination, being a writer meant swanky parties, swimming in champagne, and pacing decrepit mansions whilst shouting “I’m on deadline!”
As one does.
The reality is quite different. I don’t have a decrepit mansion, though not for lack of yearning. I pace. But it’s usually up and down my driveway. I don’t think I’ve ever used the word “swanky” as a description of my life except in utter irony. And on the eve of debut, I didn’t bathe in fountains of champagne.
Instead, I returned to the start of all my writing dreams: the bookshelf. When you think about it, bookshelves are extraordinary things. They are cathedrals full of miniature universes. And all you have to do to escape is pick one up and turn the page. When I look at my bookshelf, I see worlds and mirrors. I see who I was and who I wanted to be.
Today, perhaps one of your bookshelves will host a new world with The Star-Touched Queen. Perhaps you will discover that this world has elephants who spin clouds, jeweled fruit and fierce friends. Perhaps perhaps perhaps.
Today, I celebrate that ‘perhaps.’
This opportunity to write a world that has lived in my head for a very long time is a dream unlocked and a prayer answered. When you choose to write, you have no claim to a book’s emotional consequences. So while I celebrate the fact that this book exists, I’m also celebrating the unknown. I’m celebrating what I did control and what I can’t control. I’m celebrating an achievement and the hardwork of so many people (my agent, editor, publishing house, family, friends and more). I’m celebrating the Perhaps of what everything can be.
This is very much the book of my heart. I hope it finds a home in yours. And if not, perhaps the next one will 🙂