This is my birthday theme song.
Except I don’t drive like that. Really.
I am double nickels today. I used to try to think of things that would challenge me on my birthday, because I hate getting older. Nine years ago, I discovered the rock climbing gym in my neighborhood, which got me to get a job there and work putting children upon the rock walls. It was a ton of fun, and I got to climb for free.
Today, I am going to the Post Office and dropping off two copies of Darkness Rising: Book One of The Catmage Chronicles. I’m submitting my novel to the ALSC for the Newbery Award. Hey, the worst that can happen is I don’t get it, right?
This is a year to celebrate. My first novel is published and doing damned well for a self-published novel by nobody from nowhere. I’m at 94 novels as of the writing of this post. Six more and I get my birthday wish of 100 novels sold in the first month (plus two days).
And my hours have been raised at work, so I can stay where I am (and eventually, I hope, go back on full-time hours) and not worry about the job hunt.
I said it five years ago, and it’s turning out to be right: My fifties have become my best years ever. May they continue to improve.
Update 4 p.m.: And we’re at 97! Woot!