Falling, and the Prospect Thereof

Having recently published a novel (What Happens to Us, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DSSN5SU), I’ve been fascinated by recent success stories such as Amanda Hocking.  She’s the 27-year-old who self-published her vampire romance novels in ebook format and earned $1.5 million in just one year.  It is so unlikely that it reminds me of something that happened when I was four years old.

While in the backyard, I saw a ladder resting against the side of the house.  My Mom wasn’t around, so I went over and started to climb it.  I remember thinking that, contrary to what my mother had told me, climbing a ladder was easy: You just put the next foot up and up and up.  I was good at it.

Pretty soon, I reached the roof.  I pulled myself up, sat on the roof, and surveyed it all.  The view was amazing.  Everything looked different up there, all rooftops, treetops, and antennas.

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When I was done, I made my way back down.  Easy.  Backwards, one step at a time, no problem.  As miraculously as it may sound–I mean, a 4-year-old climbing up to the roof–it all happened without a mishap.

That strikes me as an apt metaphor for what Amanda Hocking did, climbing a ladder that nobody thought she had the ability, platform, or wherewithal to climb.  And making it to the top without falling.

As for my little adventure, I casually dropped a bomb that evening at dinner.

“The world looks different from up on the roof,” I said.

My mother slowly turned her head.

“Up on the roof?  When did you go up on the roof?”

“Today,” I said proudly.  “I climbed the ladder.”

It was my father who got the blame, leaving the ladder still leaning against the side of the building.  Now, I wonder who gets the blame for Amanda Hocking’s storied ascent.