Deep breath...

I've been trying to get used to the idea of letting people know about my writing - the fact that I wrote a book. Well, more than one actually.

Several of my students have a project in another class that requires them to ask people a question. They video record the responses. So, over the past several days I've been asked a bunch of different questions from: "If you were stranded on an island, what three things would you want with you?" to "If your picture were in the dictionary, what word would it be under?" to "What thing would you do if you weren't afraid of failure?" My answers (in order): "My laptop, the Twilight series of books, my DVR", "Renaissance" and "Writing a book." The student who asked the last question looked at me surprised because he knew about my book. I told him, I wrote it despite being afraid of failure. It's one of the ultimate rejections... You put your heart, soul, imagination, mind into something and intellectually I understand not everyone will like or love it, it's scary to put out there.

I'm working on the final edit of Book 1. My plan is for it to be out before the school yearbook is released. Why? Well, there's a "senior dedication" in it which is by my main character. It's my own unique (or is it weird) way to launch my book.

In the meantime, I've been trying to wrap my brain around the students at school (and therefore the staff - ah!) knowing about it. So, baby steps... I mentioned to my sixth period class that after we're done with the last unit test and the final, then maybe I would read to them… a story. Of course, that led to the inevitable question “What story?” “One I wrote.” Well, that was yesterday. Today, after the lesson, the guided practice of confidence intervals and significance tests, they had about 15 minutes to get some classwork done. But it was clear that we (myself included) were done for the day. It was just one of the long days for us all. So, I said, “Maybe I should just read to you now.” They were excited.

I was so nervous. I had never been that nervous in front of my class before. I think that even includes my very first day of teaching. You never let them know you’re scared – especially when you are a new teacher. So, I never did. But this time, I felt vulnerable. They could tell. They thought it was cute.

I pulled up my book, projected it onto the screen and began reading. I couldn’t look at them. In my head, as a presenter and teacher, I knew I should. But at that moment, I wasn’t their teacher. I was a bundle of nerves and fear. So, even when I knew the next line or could pause enough to look around the room, I didn’t. I got through the prologue and the first couple pages of chapter one in those few minutes we had left in class. They were surprised how realistic it was. Many of them said they could relate. That made me relieved. But internally, I could still feel myself shaking. It lasted after they left the class, on the drive home, after I shared the experience with my husband and as I write this.

It’s official. Some of my students know I wrote a book. I wonder how long it will take for the rest of my classes to find out…