Monday was a momentous day. Not only did I graduate from university after 4 years of toil, tears and sweat, I finally held in my hands a copy of a book with work of mine in it. I may be ten pounds lee rich, but I own a book to which I have contributed. An actual book. Proper binding. Proper cover.
It was an unusual feeling.
Of course, the book isn't purely mine. Far from it. The book was the result of the dedication and hard work of the Northumbria University Writers' Society (they of the blue hoodies). It was the culmination of 18 months of badgering the publisher and finally getting the collection released. There are some 20-odd talented writers represented in the anthology. Hours upon hours of work, finally realised in this book.
I'm about 50 pages in thus far, reading the 2009/10 part of the collection. Its theme is colours, and a broad spectrum of work can be found. Mostly, it's short fiction (my contribution to this half is a short story), but there is also some poetry to be found. Being a broad subject to write on, there's a range of ideas represented. It's worth a read, and I'm not just saying that.
It's a nice feeling, to be published at last. It's been the better part of a decade since I started writing (9 years, 5 months, if you want to be precise), and I finally feel like I've got a foothold from which to launch my writing career. But the pride isn't just there for myself. I'm proud of everyone involved in the writing and the editing.
I salute each and every one of you.