So, you've been writing here for years, you've come a long way baby. You worked on a novel or novella, you feel confident that it was pretty good. You edited it, re edited it, and then edited it again.
Then, with some trepidation, you sent out your submission.
You waited and checked your email every couple of hours just to be sure.
You waited and checked your email morning and night, willing it to happen.
You casted a couple of tarot readings ran your birthdate through Astrodeinst and tossed the stones and everything told you to be patient -- something big was coming.
One day you forgot to check your mail.
Then you forgot the next day.
Before you knew it, three or four days might go by and you forgot you were waiting on that mail.
Then, one day it happened.
You received an email, the subject of which was "re: submission of your novel."
Trembling, you open it. And the first line says...
"Congratulations!"
The greatest day of your writing life has arrived. You're about to get your first novel published.
After you've had the champagne, had wild congratulatory rock star sex with your lover, had the serious discussion about what you will be doing with all the millions of dollars, called your family and had the friends over for a triumphant drink to promise them that all this success won't change you a bit, you realise you can officially call yourself a published writer.