And there it was.

{via}

You know how people always ask you "that question" on your birthday? You know the one. "How do you feel now that you're *insert any number from 3-25*?" I've always been mildly annoyed by those questions. It doesn't feel any different. It's just another day in the life. Turning 17 isn't what makes you feel 17; all the awesome and not-so-awesome things you experience when you're 17 are what make you feel a year older. And by the time you feel that way, you're 18, and the cycle starts over again.

I got asked a similar question recently. I was sitting there, holding it in my hands, staring down at page 32 with a slightly dazed expression on my face and a pure cloud of golden joy fogging up my vision. "So," my dad asked. "How does it feel to be published?"

The answer?

Not that much different. It feels great, don't get me wrong. I don't think I'll ever forget the feeling I felt when I tore away that envelope and saw the magazine hiding inside, or the feeling I felt when I saw my story printed on a crisp white page, one of those shiny expensive magazine pages and not the flimsy computer paper pages my stories have lived on for so long. I couldn't stop smiling. But I didn't feel all that different. I have a theory. Getting published the kind of experience that totally exhausts you and makes you terribly happy and is often followed by a burst of applause from friends and family. Then when it's all over, you sit back, read your story a few times, and tap your fingers on the table.

That was fun, you think. Now let's do it again.

And I'm already planning to.

Ps. Getting published could also be just like doing a gigantic face-smash into a delicious chocolate cake. I haven't quite decided yet.

It's Coming....

Fall. I can smell it in the air in the mornings and feel it under my toes in the afternoon. The leaves aren't changing quite yet, but there's a sense of anticipation, as if all of nature is holding its breath before the plunge. I don't know what the calanders tell you, but for me, autumn is September.

I love September. It contains a lot of happy things. My sister's birthday, the beginning of a new school year at co-op, the last beach vacation of the season, the first walk under the crisp red leaves. Fall means leaf parties, where my entire family converges on my grandmother's house and chases down every leaf in her spacious yard. It means breaking out the boots and scarves and insisting on wearing said accessories every single day. It means school, which can be fun and can sometimes be...well, not so fun. New classes excite me--what will we learn? Who will I meet? How will the classes change me? Fall means finding leaves the color of my dreams and trying to photograph every single one before they start to fade right in my hands. It means shorter days but long, cool, starry nights. It means that soon, we'll all be able to puff out huge clouds of steam into the colder air.

Fall excites me. Even though it's still hot and humid here, I can begin looking forward to sweaters and boots, hot chocolate and long nights studying and occasionally writing like a madwoman when the tingly air completely overpowers my sanity. It's not my favorite season for nothing.

As I head off to my very first class of the year at co-op, I just wanted to invite you to join me in the anticipation =)

Happy Fall~

Elisabeth