One Year-ish-Plus Later
It didn’t feel like real life.
Or at leastmylife.
I was used to going to book signings for my friends, and authors I fangirled over andwishedwere my friends, but to be sitting in front of a crowd of people in between the tall bookshelves at the Strand, who were all there for me?
I was fizzy with nerves but I couldn’t stop smiling.
And then there were the familiar faces in the crowd smiling back at me. Owen. My parents. Meredith and Colton. Howard and Susan. Celeste. And two rows’ worth of students from the Introduction to Pickleball classes I’d started teaching at CPA.
I still couldn’t quite believe that the rest of the people I didn’t recognize were here for me. I glanced over at Nia, my conversation partner for my launch event. The full house was probably due to her added star power, but I couldn’t complain. By the end of the event, I hoped they’d all be walking out carrying signed copies ofThe Archer’s Paradoxthanks to her endorsement.
Nia had been through dozens of author events, so she’d been a stabilizing presence beside me during my inaugural book chat, leading the discussion with insightful commentary thatallowedArcherto shine. We’d just opened the floor for questions, so I was now at the mercy of the audience.
My dad’s hand shot up before anyone else had a chance.
“Mr. Murphy?” Nia said with faux formality. “What’s your question?”
Of course he stood up and projected like he was using a megaphone. “Do you think the new HBO fantasy series about fairies and unicorns impacted your path to publication?”
I smiled at him because he already knew the answer and he was teeing me up to draw the parallels between my book and the wildly popular new show. “Great question! SoArcherwent out on submission right as the publicity forLight from Darknessstarted gearing up, and while there are no fairies in my book, there’s hearty alicorn representation, as you can tell from the cover”—I held up the gorgeous thing—“along with some unicorn cameos. I guess the buzz for the show helped drum up interest in my manuscript. The world is taking a breather from dragons and refocusing on hooved creatures, and I happened to be in the right place at the right time.Archerwent to auction and had a speed run to publication, to capitalize on the craze.” I paused. “It usually doesn’t happen this quickly.”
Nia nodded. “Yeah, it movedfast. That’s not normal.”
We both laughed, because when it came to publishing, nothing was predictable.
Another hand went up and my stomach twisted. Someone I didn’t know.
“Yes?” Nia pointed toward the woman.
“Hi, Brooke, I can’t wait to read your book. I’m an aspiring writer and I was hoping that you’d talk about your process. I’d love to get your advice.”
I chuckled. My process was still an unpredictable mess, with one major change.
I no longer believed that I needed a muse.
The final laps to completingArcherhad been the most satisfying of my writing career. There was no writer’s block or blank-page stress, just a smooth highway of words and words and words. Not all of them weregood, but that’s where editing came in. Once I wholeheartedly committed to Einar and Zandria, I was able to hammer out the rest of the book in record time. Writing their story was nothing but joyful for me.
“You definitely don’t want to follow my lead as a writer,” I cautioned. “I’ve gotten in trouble because of my process.” My eyes flicked to Owen and he winked at me. “I guess my best advice is to commit to a word count every day and hold yourself accountable.Howyou get there is up to you. Should you write an outline? If you think it’ll help, definitely, but if it trips you up, move on. Is it better to use Word, or should you invest in a writing app? Totally up to you.” I saw the woman start to frown at me since I wasn’t providing much direction. “What I’m trying to say is, your process is just that—yours. Sure, there’s a ton of advice out there for how to write a book, and definitely audit it and steal what you can use, but above all, get the damn words on the page.”
A few people applauded.
My mom raised her hand. “What are you reading and loving right now?”
Another tee-up question.
“Well, I’m lucky enough to be a beta reader for this one.” I hitched my thumb toward Nia, and she shimmied her shoulders. “She’s currently scaring the crap out of me with her work in progress that I’m not allowed to talk about. It’ssogood.” Ipaused and waited for Owen to look at me. When he did, we shared a secret smile. “I’m also reading the final draft of another debut author’s book that I’m so excited about.” I took a beat before mentioning the title that his publisher wanted and he wasn’t in love with. “It’s calledUnlocking Potential: Mindful Coachingby Owen Miller. Owen, say hi.”
He shook his head like he was pissed at me, which I knew was an act, then half stood and gave the crowd a wave. My heart swelled with pride.
“When most of us think ‘coach,’ we think sports, right? But all of us are coaches, whether we know it or not.” I refocused on the woman who’d asked about my writing process. “I just coached you. Notwell, but I did offer you some guidance. At least I hope I did.”
My dad laughed loudly.
“Parents coach their kids. Managers coach their employees. Coaching is just unlocking a person’s potential to maximize their growth, whether it’s on the pickleball court, in a dog-training class, or in the boardroom. This book is going to help all of us learn to be better coaches in every aspect of our life. I’ve been on the receiving end of Owen’s coaching, and let’s just say he brought out a side of me that I didn’t know existed.”
Heads craned to look at Owen, and I noticed a few women’s glances lingering on him. But how could they not? He’d opted for literary smolder tonight, in a black button-down and glasses that he’d finally admitted he needed since he’d been doing so much screen staring.
