Well, until you’ve done something cool enough that just gets you them for free.When I published the book I’d get asked by some of my more put together friends if I was nervous about the fact that I’d potentially forever be associated with drinking and dating.New modern applications and projects, coupled with a new statistics and probability CD-ROM included with every new copy makes Zill's classic text a must-have text and resource for Engineering Math students!
I don’t worry people will find out I and see me like some of the internet commentors did.
That maybe they won’t hear everything delivered in the flat, tongue-in-cheek tone I wanted them to hear it in. No one asks me this question, but it’s the most important part, because it all goes back to the biggest lesson I’ve ever learned about Imposter Syndrome.
My life has changed so much in the past two years that I rarely think about the time when I hated my job and my career prospects and the only thing that gave me any sense of satisfaction was writing this blog. And then Chris and I got back together and the blogging about dating came to an end. A year later, when I was submitting anything and everything to Thought Catalog anytime I felt extra suicidal at work, one of my posts was finally accepted. I had bed bugs but I didn’t know it yet, so I was also quite itchy.
I really only think about it in a “wow, I’m really fucking lucky I’ve found something I love to do everyday. An editor there started scanning through my blog and reposing more stuff. And here’s where I get to the hindsight being 20/20 part – I was living with a brilliant, kind, helpful, beautiful, wonderful human with a giant book deal (who could make this sentence a hell of a lot better) and I didn’t ask her for help.
I was up against the other people writing books who really knew what they were doing.
I thought if I could just push out ANYTHING and be published then I’d have that title of “author” to claim for myself.
I’ve been reticent to write about the experience because I don’t want it to come off humble-braggy (or regular braggy), or sounding like I’m lamenting one of the most exciting and proud accomplishments of my 20s. I should have told my boyfriend to skip this paragraph.
Like threepointfive years ago I was walking home from work, thinking about how the one year anniversary of when I met my then ex-boyfriend was coming up because I’m a massive creep who’s overly sentimental and I was thinking about the Google reminder I’d set for myself when we broke up for four months out that was like, “Throw a party because you’re totally over that douche”, and how that reminder and come and gone and I was, in fact, not at all over that douche.
That was a little under two years ago, but due to career changes, life, blah blah, it feels more like something that happened in the life of an entirely different person. “Show Me Love”) and were like, “Why the fuck are you guys blackout? I imaged sitting in my New York City apartment, guinea pig on my desk, eating a cookie at 9 AM because mommy wasn’t there to tell me I couldn’t. Me writing a book looked like this – All of my roommates were out of town that weekend.