I wrote a children’s book. Actually, it won’t be a book until someone decides to publish it, or until I decide to pay someone to publish it. I’m not so certain I’m in much of a rush for either of those things to happen.
Success is a difficult thing to define. Each person has their own concept and measuring system. Whether you define success by your last pay stub, or the title on your business card, or the number of Facebook likes or retweets you received in the past week is entirely up to you. I won’t judge you if you allow me the same courtesy. And though I may never rival Dr. Seuss for shelf space at the local library I’m already counting myself as a successful children’s author.
I’ve wanted to write a children’s book for about four years since my now seven-year-old son fell in love with our daily bedtime stories. We still read at least two books most nights of the week and the only change is that now his little sister joins us. Now he usually reads to me, and there’s no sweeter sound.