I don’t know what to say. Yes I do.
The audio version of Confessions of a Serial Songwriter was nominated for a Grammy..
I seriously had a whole other blog prepared to go out today. Scheduled and everything. It occurred to me that maybe I should hold it back because what if? What if the Nom came through? Surely I'd want to write about THAT. But I did NOT unschedule the blog. I wanted to go to bed 'the night before' without hope in my heart. Because if I had too much hope, upon awaking I could be devastated when hearing the results. Which is kinda sad. Cuz I like having hope in my heart.
I figured, I'd go to sleep in neutral. Just close my eyes and fade out. Wake up, have coffee like any other morning. Feed the cats. Easier said than done. I took an Ambien.
Noms were announced at 5:30am here in PT. I was still sleeping when my phone buzzed at 6:19. I took it as a good sign cuz no one was going to text me with unfavorable news. That would be insensitive to say the least. I lifted my face mask, tilted the phone and peeked. I saw a whole bunch of colorful hearts, happy faces and lots of CAPS. And I knew. And I cried.
First I ran to tell Adam who was sleeping on the couch in the TV room. Apparently, the Ambien amplified my snoring. :(
I wanted to tell my Mom and Dad. But I couldn’t. (Hopefully they know.)
Then I called Ronny, my editor/agent with whom I had lunch on Monday. We barely spoke about this possibility. She was confused to have been awakened (awoken? Ronny—which is it?) so early...thought something was wrong. I said…Ronny…we got it.
I texted Layla in Argentina who Face Timed me back and looked like this:
She offered to go with me to the telecast. Way ahead of me on that. I know she's proud because I started getting texts from her friends.
My head is in the clouds. My phone is blowing up. My computer sounds like a pinball machine on steroids. It's all good.
You know how nominees often say they're humbled to be in such esteemed company? Well, I’m not just saying it. Look at this:
It’s almost comical. Looks photo shopped.
I must apologize to Hillary (also an audiobook author), who may be wondering who the h*ll I am.
So there you have it. Oh just one more thing:
Confessions of a Serial Songwriter really isn’t so much a book about how to be a successful songwriter. I’m not sure I’m an expert on that any more. It's more about hanging in and sharing your truths. I’m certain my many failures (or as I prefer to call them—rehearsals), were way more important to my journey than my few successes. And lastly (and ironically), it's about not losing the hope in your heart.
Thank you all voting members of the Recording Academy who put a check next to my name. I am grateful beyond.
No need for Ambien tonight.