Release Day!

My debut novel Supermassive is out in the wild!

I think my emotions today can be split into three parts (sizes may vary):

One part where I rave around on the lawn, screaming YES! LOOK AT ME! I’M AN AUTHOR! PUBLISHED! YEAH! HIGH FIVE! LET THE AWARD SEASON BEGIN!

Another part where I try to quench my bouts of blushing, and where I keep reminding myself that it’s no big deal, thousands of books get published every year – you know you’re not going to earn any money on this, right? And what will people think about that book…

And a part where I smile quietly and pat myself on the shoulder while I eat my dinner, or patch up the kids’ bloodied knees, or grumble about the fact that it seems maybe I won’t have any time left to write on my next project tonight (of all nights).

But mostly, I’m just happy and proud and impressed – and I’m glad I can tick off one more box on my life’s wish-to-do list.

Here’s what else I did today:
I ordered my photographer/husband to drive me to Grimstad and snap a few decent photos of me eating the world’s best chocolate cake at Café Ibsen. The symbolism was too strong to resist on a day like this (for those not familiar with Ibsen: it’s never too late to learn about one of the most prominent playwrights of the world. Just don’t call him Henrik. It’s Ibsen. Or Henrik Ibsen. Okay?) Unfortunately, the café was out of that chocolate cake (no wonder, since it’s so good), so I had to settle for a cinnamon swirl bun with vanilla cream. It was delicious, so no disappointing substitute. It also cost a fortune. (My husband said I had to pay, since he plans on quitting his job in favour of early retirement now that I’m going to earn millions. Hahaha.) After taking 83 photos of me, 2 of the museum garden and 13 of a sparrow family begging for cinnamon crumbs, we left so that I could look through the pictures and post something on various social media. (I also had time to finish reading a novel, eat some sweets, enjoy my holiday, and spend far too much time on the internet.)

The Author at Large


Across the street from the café, at the house/museum where Ibsen wrote one of his early plays (which I haven’t read. Ooops.)                   
Subverting the Ibsen heritage and making fun of myself at the museum(s)

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