That Time I Wrote A Book (in which I share how I accidentally become a published author)

ONE TIME I WROTE A BOOK. Like with a dust jacket and page numbers and an ISBN and appendices. My book made it into the Library of Congress before I did in person. #notjealousatall

This post will be a departure from house related miscellany, but it was a HUGE PROJECT so I feel like not at least mentioning it here would be an oversight.


Late night parties=weirdly-lit photos. Alas.

Last winter, my alma mater contacted me and inquired as to whether I would write a book for them. They are celebrating their 75th anniversary in 2014, and so the occasion warranted a history book.

I think they eased it into the conversation a bit better than that, but that’s all I can remember from that blurry breakfast. I used to write articles as a college student and now am a copywriter, so apparently that made me qualified? Questionable.

After thinking it over and having about a dozen panic attacks, I said “sure,” and we got to work. My partner in crime was Paul (above), a retired professor and master rememberer. He was actually qualified. Over the past 12 months, we met and wrote and researched and selected pictures and generally got on our college’s nerves. We were allowed to be nosy, and we took full advantage of it.


No one told me to wear my hair down on picture day. WHY. At least I remembered to mention the ol’ blog hobby. #phwew #Ineedcoolercredentials

After all that work, a book was born and I finally resumed my natural breathing pattern once again.


All in all, it was an incredible privilege and I’m super glad I didn’t say no. My school’s history is rather unique, and it was quite an adventure compiling it all. I’m now hoping they ask me back to write the 150th anniversary book…when I’m a million years old. #fingerscrossed


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