the best of times. the worst of times. but the New York Times Best Sellers List is pretty much the publishing world’s Holy Grail all the time. when we started this process over a year ago, our publisher was very clear that we shouldn’t gauge the success of our book by whether we reached the NYTBSL or not. that it was a complicated process and dependent on a myriad of factors that we really didn’t have control over.
and just as he was explaining all of this…we were already setting our sights on that unreachable/unattainable accolade. one that, we knew, was completely reachable because we had something not everyone has. we had fellow junk gypsies far and wide…kindred spirits that drank the flea market kool-aid right along with us years and years ago. we had Y’ALL. from state to state. from sea to shining sea. and y’all had our backs. and we THANK YOU.
because the night before we left for our big Tennessee weekend (more about that later), we found out that we had, indeed, made the NYTBSL (a completely non-legit acronym). there was no confetti flying through the air, nor silly string, not even balloons, and oddly, oprah didn’t call, or katie couric. it took a few days for the news to actually sink in. for us to actually realize that our book was on the New York Times Best Sellers List. and before i knew it, all of those things started flying through the air in my mind. which may or may not make me a little unstable. it’s true. i’ve been seeing imaginary confetti exploding every time i hear the word “bestseller”. and i think katie called my cell in my dream the other night.
and then i did this subtle little screen shot in case it all goes away…
because whoever thought that a couple of junkers from texas could call themselves New York Times Best Selling authors? dream big, my friends. dream. big.