The Morning the Books Arrived

— A quiet milestone —

This was not the story I had planned to post this week.

That one is still sitting patiently in my drafts. Fully formed, properly punctuated, and mildly offended that it was passed over at the last minute.

But then morning happened.

And mornings, I’ve learned, have a habit of rewriting editorial calendars without asking for permission.

I woke up to a message from my kids in the US. One of those messages that instantly switches the brain from half-asleep adult to over-caffeinated child on Christmas morning.

It didn’t say it casually at all.

It came with the kind of excitement that travels easily across time zones:
“The book has arrived!”

One of those moments you don’t rush past.

The book.
My book.

Paperback. Physical.
Real enough to thump gently on a kitchen counter and sit there. Unassuming, solid, and strangely calm.

Apparently, it had been ordered in the US and had now arrived. Well printed, neatly packed, and looking far more composed than its author usually does. The paper looked good. The cover looked good. The packaging looked like it had been handled by people who knew exactly what they were doing.

I stared at the photos for an embarrassing amount of time.

For context, I am a first-time book author. Which means I oscillate… sometimes within the same sentence… between quiet confidence and mild panic. I trust the process. I distrust the process. Often simultaneously.

So when the memoir finally went live on Amazon as a paperback… globally… I chose restraint. A soft launch. No drum rolls. No loud announcements. No breathless posts with too many exclamation marks.

I wanted to be sure the links worked. The ordering process behaved itself. The delivery didn’t involve confusion, delay, or interpretive dance by the courier. Most importantly, I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone kind enough to place an order.

Readers deserve many things. Broken links are not one of them.

There are still a few hiccups with the Amazon India paperback listing… largely because print-on-demand isn’t available in India yet. So I’ve gone slightly old-school: getting copies printed myself through a top printer and selling them via Amazon India, like a logistics professional who has wandered back into familiar territory, carrying boxes and quiet optimism.

But the US orders?

Smooth. Simple. Clean.

The books arrived quickly. The packing was solid. The paperbacks reached their destination looking exactly as they should. Calm, intact, and reassuringly real.

Somewhere in the middle of all that reassurance, my kids were already turning pages.

Now, I know what some of you may be thinking.

People publish paperback books on Amazon every day. Hundreds of them. Thousands, probably. On most days, I would agree with you wholeheartedly and move on.

But today, we’re talking about this book.

This memoir.

The one that lived in my head for years before it dared to exist on paper.

And today, I am feeling as excited as a child who built something with their own hands and can’t quite believe it hasn’t fallen apart yet.

This wasn’t the story I planned to tell.

But it’s the one that insisted on being told today.

Some stories take years to find their way onto paper. And when they finally do, they step into the world quietly, trusting they’ll find thoughtful company along the way.

Fresh out of the box.

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If you’d like to take a look
The paperback edition is now available on Amazon (US).
Orders are printed and shipped within the US.

📘 View on Amazon