I’m being a bit facetious with that title.  Or perhaps hopelessly optimistic.  The amazing thing about this blog journey is that it always surprises me.  I think, “Oh, such-and-such would be pretty far-fetched, so it probably won’t happen.”  But then it does in some unexpected and amazing way.  So, will my book end up taking me on a world tour?  Who knows.  Probably not, but I’m getting an updated passport just in case I have the chance to visit our northern neighbors or visit my girls in the UK! I don’t have a grand book tour scheduled through Thomas Nelson, my publisher.  This is going to be a grassroots “book tour.”  Me coordinating with people who want me to come to their place of business to sign books, teach a workshop, give a seminar, or to fetch coffee and doughnuts or all of the above.  Having never done this before, I’m totally

Despite the fact that I just wrote a book I feel like I’m totally the wrong person to give advice to an aspiring author on how to get published.  I thought it might be helpful, though, or at least interesting, for me to share my experience and the process.  So, here we go… I’ve shared before that I’ve never thought of myself as a writer.  I was never good in English at school, disliked writing papers immensely and have always been lousy at spelling and grammar.  I have always thought it would be fun to put together a decorating book, but that thought was the kind of thought you have like – it would be so fun to own a horse farm or it would be fun to live in Paris.  It’s something you talk about and think about, but it’s something other people do.  Not you. I started to think it

 November 17, 2010, I put it out there – I said I was going to start working on a book and just see where it took me. In November 2011, I had a book contract in hand from Thomas Nelson.  In November 2012, I’ll be at my first book signing.  Totally insane.  I finally have my book, Inspired You, in hand.   I posted it on Facebook, but haven’t mentioned it otherwise.  My friend Barb Blair texted me last night, asking why I didn’t call her screaming when I got it in the mail and she called me a stinker.  Once I got the giggles out about a grown woman calling me, also a grown woman, a stinker, I thought about it.  Why didn’t I?  I’m in love with the book.  I’m proud of it.  (I can, of course, see tons of things I would do a little differently, but