What an exciting moment, signing a publishing contract. For the first time. And hopefully for the first of many times.
And yet, as exciting as this moment is, it hasn't quite felt real. I'm still sitting here in my jammies, cajoling the characters in my current WIP, tweeting about coffee-related silliness on Twitter, and then all of a sudden I realize, "Hey, I just signed a contract. For one of my stories. To be published."
It's a completely different experience than I imagined.
For one thing, the contracts arrived via email, which makes sense in this day and age, and I do like instantaneous communication. Heck, who has time to check the snail mail box everyday? But it was kind of strange when I signed the forms and returned them--online. I also got an instant reply saying the forms were received, so there was no wondering or waiting or chewing of fingernails. In addition, there's a copy sitting in my email inbox that I can refer to whenever I want.
Absolutely no paper was used in the execution of this contract.
Which means there were no papers for me to misplace and then scramble around trying to find, hoping I wouldn't have to ask for another copy while covering up my extreme embarrassment at losing something so important. There was also no need for a trip to the post office, which I usually dread and put off until even later than the last minute, waiting in line longer than if I'd gone when I should have in the first place.
I didn't have to look for a pen, either. Which I can never find, even though I've accumulated easily forty-eleven billion of them in my lifetime. And when I do find one, it has run out of ink, because I always lose the cap, especially when it's in my purse--the better to stab me with when I'm frantically searching for a pen to sign very important papers.
No wonder this doesn't seem real. It was easy. Easier than easy. It was quick and efficient.
Which leaves me lots of time to think about how exciting this whole experience is.