Single Wide Female: The Bucket List Mega Bundle - 24 Books (Books #1-24) (65 page)

“That tells me nothing! You have no idea the things that are going through my mind.”

“I would love to know!”

I grabbed a corn tortilla, some baked chicken, a bag of salad, and mustard. As I spread my treat out on the counter, I listened to Max rattle off what his imagination had me doing.

“Maybe you’re trying to create a robot of some kind to take over your job at Fluff and Stuff so you can spend more time with me. Or maybe you’ve decided to volunteer to live on Mars and you’re just trying to get me used to the Sammy deprivation. Perhaps you’ve taken a vow of Max avoidance and you’re afraid to let down your latest deity. Maybe there’s been an infestation of large bugs in your home and they’ve surrounded your bed, making it impossible for you to leave it or call me for help. I mean really, Sammy, I’ve been panicking over here.”

As I finished making my wrap, I shook my head. “Max you know you could have just come over and checked on me.”

“But that would ruin the fun.”

“I suppose.” I smiled. “I’ll tell you what. Come to dinner with me Friday night. We can celebrate together.”

“Celebrate what?”

“You’ll find out on Friday.”

“I don’t like this.”

“But you like me.”

“I love you.”

I tried not to swoon at hearing those words. Max wasn’t shy about telling me how he felt. Of course he meant that he loved me as a friend, but hearing those three little words still made me buzz with hope.

“If you love me, then you’ll come to dinner on Friday.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “I guess I can survive until then.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“I’m not so sure. But I guess I have no choice. This better be good!”

“It will be!” I hung up my phone.

Would
it be good? Would anyone even want to read it? Would Max think I was a fool for trying to break into an already crowded book market?

I set my phone down and picked up my wrap. I wasn’t going to shut down with fear. I was going to try to be brave—like Zara would be.

I managed to make it through my shift at Fluff and Stuff the next day—but just barely. I kept checking my phone to see if Estrella had called. I knew it was unreasonable of me to expect that she would have read my entire book in twenty-four hours, but I was dying to hear the verdict. Then a small part of me was terrified to hear the phone ring, because once she gave me her opinion, there was no turning back.

To try to keep my focus on the future and not the disaster that Estrella might consider my book to be, I’d decided to drop in on an e-book seminar after work. I already knew the basics, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to go over things again.

I locked up the laundromat and started walking towards the library. I kept thinking about different parts of Zara’s adventure. Was the tattoo really believable, or was it too over the top? Did I focus too much on her boring job or give away the end by discussing her hopes of a different career in the future?

All I could picture was Estrella reading over the chapters with a clothespin pinching her nose shut to protect her from the stench of terrible writing.

I pulled open the door to the library and stepped in. The small meeting room where the seminar was taking place was packed. I hadn’t expected so many people to turn out, as it was only a three-hour course. As I looked through all of the faces of the people squished like sardines around a large table, I realized for the first time just how massive the market would be. This was only a small sampling of the people that were in the e-book market. Everyone had a book to sell—everyone had dreams of becoming a multimillionaire.

“What will set your book apart?”

I looked at the teacher at the head of the table with absolute shock. Had he been reading my mind?

“Yes you.” He smiled at me, with that charming salesperson type of smile. “How will you make your book stand out? Who is your audience?”

I wasn’t expecting to be put on the spot, and I certainly hadn’t prepared the answers to his questions. But maybe that was the point—to make me think on my feet.

Chapter 4

I shifted uncomfortably as everyone turned to look at me.

“Well, I think the content speaks for itself.” I was still in my work clothes, which were not exactly flattering to my figure. My hair was a bit of a mess from walking to the library, and I was sure that there wasn’t a trace of make-up left on my skin. I felt very uneasy as people waited expectantly for me to continue. “I mean, the audience is fairly broad. I think it will appeal to women of all walks of life.”

“Oh? How is it going to improve their lives?” He turned back to the entire group. “That’s just one of the good questions that you can ask yourself when trying to market your e-book. By making it clear what impact you expect your book will have on your audience, you make them more likely to purchase a book.” He turned back to face me.

“So, how will it change your readers’ lives?”

“I guess it will help them to discover themselves and deal with their insecurities.” I frowned. I didn’t feel very confident at that moment.

“See, that’s far too many words and far too heavy. You need bouncy words like inspirational, self-esteem, Viagra.”

“What?” I laughed.

So did a few of the people in the audience.

“There’s nothing funny about coming up with a quirky catch phrase to represent your book. It’s important to think about things from every angle. Remember your e-book is going to be in the middle of a very crowded marketplace. You have to do something to catch the eye of your reader, who will have tons of other choices.”

I was sure I wouldn’t be leading with words like Viagra, but I took the teacher’s advice to heart. Was my book just like any other? Would it really reach the hearts of my readers?

I sat down and listened to the remainder of the lecture. I took a few notes about marketing techniques, but my mind remained on the question about what made my book unique.

By the end of the seminar, I had a pretty good idea of what made it unique.

It was me. It was real. It wasn’t some fictional character drummed up by what was trendy or what other people had success with. It wasn’t a formula. It was a real-life character that struggled with the same things that most women struggled with every day.

Will I ever be good enough? Will I ever find true love? Will I ever be satisfied with who I am, or more importantly, will anyone ever just accept me for who I am?

As I left the seminar I felt rejuvenated. Maybe I didn’t have a catch phrase or an attention-grabbing premise, but I had what people really wanted—the truth.

The first thought I had when I woke up the next morning was about Estrella. I could barely get myself to focus on brushing my teeth or making coffee. I checked my phone as soon as the coffee was brewing. There was no text—no new voice mail from Estrella. My stomach twisted as I wondered if she might be avoiding me. I would never be a good enough writer for her to take the time to critique my work. What was I thinking?

The more I allowed myself to dwell on this, the more sick I became.

I prepared some toast but the smell of it cooking bothered my stomach. As I waited to feel better, I walked over to my computer. I almost wished that the coffee had killed it. I felt miserable and disappointed in myself. I didn’t think I could ever be the writer that I’d dreamed of being.

As I got swept up in the spiral of self-defeat, I noticed I had a new message on my blog. I knew it had to be from Blue—I needed it to be from Blue.

I clicked on the message, eager to read what he had to say. Blue always had a way of making me feel great.

SWF,

A book—that explains the lack of updates. Writers are known for getting swallowed up in their work. As amazing as I think you are, I can only imagine how thrilling your book will be. But don’t get lost in the fantasy. The rest of us still need your inspiration.

Blue

I was a little startled by his words.

Blue usually had words of wisdom that reached my core. I expected him to be excited for me—and encouraging. He wasn’t exactly negative, but I was a little put off by him defining my book as fantasy.

It took a few minutes before I realized what he meant.

I couldn’t let Zara live my life for me. I could learn from her, I could grow with her, but I couldn’t let writing her story take over my own. As consumed as I’d been when I first woke up—with worry about Estrella’s opinion of the book—I could see that it was already beginning to take me over.

I took a breath and followed it with a sip of coffee, then a bite of toast.

I was about to introduce Zara to the world, but that didn’t mean that I should disappear from it.

After getting dressed, I headed out to the bakery to pick up one of their delicious muffins. It was a treat for completing my book. Whether or not it made me a mint, it was an accomplishment that I should be proud of crossing off my bucket list.

I’d just sat down with a cranberry orange delight when my cell phone buzzed. I saw that it was Estrella’s number. My heart skipped a beat. I wasn’t sure whether to be excited or terrified. I didn’t have long to figure it out, as it was already on the fourth ring.

Chapter 5

I picked up the phone.

“Hi, Estrella, it’s me—Samantha.”

“I know that, Samantha. I called you.” Estrella’s amused voice made my cheeks burn.

“Oh, right. Yes. Hi. How are you?” I could barely take a full breath.

“Let me put you out of your misery. I finished the book.”

I was silent. I expected her to continue on with glowing praise. When she didn’t, I cleared my throat.

“So?”

“So, I think we should meet to discuss it.”

“Okay. When?” My muscles tensed. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t tell me anything over the phone. Was it that bad? Was it that good?

“Coffee—tomorrow morning? You choose the spot,” Estrella offered.

Tomorrow morning. I thought of the endless hours between my muffin and the next morning. I wasn’t sure I could survive that long. But it wasn’t as if I could force her to meet me earlier. She was doing this as a favor to me.

“Absolutely. I know just the place! I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay, sounds great. About nine o’clock?”

“Yes. Nine o’clock. Thank you, Estrella.”

“You’re welcome. I look forward to discussing your work with you.”

The phone was still pressed tightly against my ear when I heard the dial tone. I hung up and stared down at the phone in my hand. By tomorrow at nine I would know the truth about my book.

I quickly texted Estrella the address of the coffee shop. Then I dug into my cranberry orange muffin.

Tomorrow I would know whether my book was any good or not. Today, I could enjoy my muffin and celebrate the fact that I’d written anything at all.

After finishing off my muffin, I headed to Fluff and Stuff for my shift. A part of me hoped that Max would stop by, but I knew that he wouldn’t. He worked during the week and since we’d made plans for Friday, I’d barely heard from him. I knew he was trying to respect my need for space, but I was really starting to miss him.

As I folded a load of laundry, my mind drifted to the next morning—and Estrella. Inevitably, my thoughts shifted to the humiliation I had faced in the writers’ group that I’d attempted to join. It was one of the lowest points of my writing career. I felt as if my work had been disrespected, but it was more than that. I felt as if I didn’t measure up or fit in with their clique.

In high school the most difficult moments of a teenage girl’s life are those of rejection. In my experience it was much more painful to be rejected by my female friends than it was to be rejected by teenage boys. There was a need to feel solidarity with my peers then, and I felt the same need now.

I was hesitant to even classify myself as a writer because of that experience.

Now I was trying to figure out where I fit in, as a writer who had actually finished a book. I was poised to publish, but I wasn’t sure that I was truly ready. With that fear of judgment still hanging over me, I might be held back by it. I wanted a clean slate, and in order to get that, I needed to truly face my foes.

I still had one of the group member’s phone numbers in my cell phone. When I finished folding the laundry I sent him a text requesting a meeting with him and the rest of the group at the same coffee shop where I was meeting Estrella.

A few minutes later I received a text back that he and other members of the group would be there. I was both thrilled and scared out of my mind. I was ready to stand up for myself as a writer. I had done it once before, but this time I wanted to do it out of pride in my own work and confidence in my skill as a writer.

As I finished up the last load of laundry, I indulged in a fantasy of my book taking off and touching the hearts of millions of women. I knew it wasn’t likely, but as I closed my eyes and pictured other women out in the world—struggling and feeling isolated by how they looked and their insecurities—it made me yearn to reach each one of them. I wanted them to know that they were not alone, that they had a friend, and that things could and would change for the better. More than anything, I wanted them to feel inspired to have pride in themselves—just as Zara was teaching me to have pride in myself.

That night as I lay in bed, I wondered what the heck I had done to myself.

Not only had I exposed myself to Estrella’s critical eye, I’d promised Kat the first copy of my book and I was going to risk humiliating myself in front of a snobby group of writers once more. It was ridiculous—the things that I got myself into.

And yet, I found myself eager for the morning to come.

Despite all of the negative thoughts that filled my mind, I felt a tug deep within me to be proud of myself. That was new. That was a result of all of the bucket list items I’d checked off and Zara’s influence on my life.

At some point I must have actually fallen asleep, because I woke to the blaring of my alarm clock. I slapped my hand against it. Instead of shutting it off, I knocked it onto the floor. The clock bounced and the alarm turned off. I sighed and curled back into the familiar embrace of my pillow. I had no idea why I’d set the alarm when I had the day off. It was silly of me to forget that I could sleep in. My mind drifted in a half-asleep, half-awake state for a few more minutes. Then all of a sudden I realized why I’d set the alarm.