There's a draft in here!

But not the kind that needs more efficient windows.

There are some funny things about being a writer. One of them is how much you work alone. When bad things happen, like you get an email from your agent that essentially says, “Sorry, Nicole, turns out the audiobook company realized you’re a middle-aged lady and aren’t the best choice to read your audiobook that stars a seventeen-year-old boy even though you’ve already signed the contract and booked the recording studio,” (true story) you have to be sad by yourself.

Granted, lots of people might want to be alone so tears can drip off their cheeks and onto their keyboards in peace. But I am not one of those people.

I’d actually prefer never to be sad or cry in the first place. (I know, I know…) But if I have to be sad, I’d prefer to be sad together.

For example, when my grandmother died a few years ago, I got the text during passing time in the hallway at the high school where I taught. By the time I wove my way through the packs of teenagers and into the office for my prep hour, the shock had worn off. My grandmother—my final living grandparent—had passed away. She’d been sick for awhile. We’d been expecting the end was near. But still.

Then, my friend Meng came around the corner. He cocked his head. “Are you okay?” he asked. I shook my head no. He held out his arms. I stepped into them. I cried. And cried. And cried.

(Side note, get yourself friends who will hold you for as long as you need to be held. It is A+.)

When I was done crying, my grandma was still dead. I was still sad. But I wasn’t lost. Meng’s silent, tactile support grounded me through that initial emotional walloping. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t shown up. Probably shoved the tears down and tried to push through the day. Or spiraled. Very likely spiraled. I was so thankful for Meng’s friendship in that moment. So thankful for his care. So glad I wasn’t alone.

Being alone is also weird for me when I get good news. Or, like I did today, make good news happen!

Today, just this very second, I finished the draft of my middle grade novel!

It isn’t long. Like, half the length of my young adult novels. But it was so hard fought. Normally, I can write a novel and have it ready to send out on submission in a year. This time, it took me two—for a book half the length of everything else I’ve written. As my grandmother would have said, “Uffda.”

But now there’s a draft. With a beginning, middle, and end. It’s been revised enough that I’ve sent it to my agent. There will be more revisions before anything else happens, but that’s for future Nicole to worry about. Today Nicole is celebrating. With you!

So thanks for helping me remember that even when I’m physically alone, I’m never truly alone. And if you, like Meng, has ever held me as long as I needed to be held, thanks for that, too.