Holy Shit, I Had a Baby... I Mean, a Book Signing
Holy shit, I had a baby.
I mean, a book signing.
Pretty much the same thing if you ask me. And that’s coming from an actual mother, by the way, so let’s relax before throwing me in the chokey.
It was September 17, 2023, and apparently this brand-new mom decided that was plenty of time to recover from childbirth and do a public event.
For the record, there was no “snapping back” over here. It took like two weeks for my legs to stop swelling.
Lord, why am I talking about giving birth?
Oh, right.
The birth of my book.
Gel Pen Flowers was published in January 2023. It was my first book, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and somehow that eventually led me to a little bookstore in Sanford, Florida called Spellbound.
The Random Stop That Changed Everything
Here’s the side story — because apparently I’m incapable of telling a story without one.
I was driving home from the Central Florida Zoo with my newborn when I decided to stop at this adorable little bookstore.
And when I say adorable, I mean Hallmark-movie adorable.
I walked around, probably looking like the exhausted, sweaty new mom I was, and eventually puckered up enough courage to ask:
“Do you accept books from local authors?”
They did!
YAY!
Except...
Everything about my book was wrong.
No title on the spine. ISBN issues. Publishing things I didn't even know were things.
No. No. No.
It was a freaking nightmare.
And also one of the biggest blessings.
Instead of brushing me off, the owner saw a very new mom and a very new author trying to figure out motherhood AND the book world at the same time.
She showed me some of the ropes.
And then she invited me back for a book signing.
Which, by the way...
WE SOLD OUT.
September 17, 2023
The signing was more than I could have imagined.
There was an indie bar next door, so people grabbed drinks, found a chair, and suddenly there I was — curled up in this ridiculously comfy chair talking about Gel Pen Flowers in front of an actual audience.
People asked about writing the book, publishing it, the stories behind it, and what it was like navigating all of this while becoming a mom.
And the room just kept filling up.
Eventually, it was standing room only.
I don't think my cheeks stopped hurting from smiling.
My family even flew in from Atlanta to be there.
And yes, I cried.
Obviously.
It was one of those weird, beautiful moments where you look around and think:
Wait... people actually showed up for this. For me. For this little book I made.
And Now We're Here
Fast-forward three years.
In 2026, I was accepted into the UCF Alumni Author Book Nook on November 6.
And almost immediately, I knew I didn't want to just sit behind a table and sell books.
I wanted to create a memory.
An experience.
A connection.
I wanted someone to take Gel Pen Flowers home, curl up somewhere cozy, and feel like they were opening more than a book.
So I started putting together special goodie bags filled with little pieces of the local businesses and creative community that have made this whole thing feel so freaking special.
And one of the very first places I thought of?
Spellbound.
The bookstore that took a chance on the sweaty new mom with the book that needed some serious help.
I reached out and asked if they'd like to be part of this new chapter.
They didn't hesitate.
They welcomed me back with open arms and basically said:
What can we do to help?
And I don't know, guys.
That's the part that gets me.
In 2023, I walked into their bookstore with a newborn, a book, and absolutely no clue what I was doing.
They helped me.
They gave me my first signing.
People filled the room.
We sold out.
And now, three years later, I get to bring a little piece of that bookstore with me to UCF as Gel Pen Flowers starts another chapter.
It's all just a little mind-blowing.
And maybe that's the whole point.
Sometimes you don't realize you're standing at the beginning of something until years later, when life circles you right back around.
And you get to look at where you started and say...
Holy shit. Look how far we've come.
