I could be referring to the boys of summer and their just weeks away Opening Day baseball debut, but this isn't a story about that kind of baseball.

Sure baseball plays somewhat of a leading role-the meningioma brain tumor I miraculously survived seven years ago happened to be the size of one. Oh and then there's the minor detail that I happened to be married to a former major league pitcher. I know sounds juicy already doesn't it? Still it wasn't sexy and glamorous enough to convince a major house to offer me a Barry Bonds or Derek Jeter sized advance. Trust me, if I were Bonds or Jeter's wife, I would have sold my story quicker than an ump can shout, "Yooooooooooouuuuuuuuu'rrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeee Out!"

Just as the boys of summer are fine tuning their fielding and hitting and perfecting their nasty sliders, change ups and curveballs in sunny Florida and Arizona, I'm fine tuning my own mechanics. I call mine first time publishing jitters.

Which excerpts do I read at my first ever book signing? Will attendees prefer an autograph from my long since retired husband instead? What if I'm facing row after row of empty metal folding chairs? Do rent-an-audience companies exist? Even more important, could I deduct the expense on my 1099 next year?

I've been waiting for this day for just over two years now. I'd been rejected by every major league team on both coasts. I thought after having survived two craniotomies within fourth months of each other, one would have toughened up like the titanium long lodged in my noggin. Apparently not. It made me doubt my writing abilities even more despite being repeatedly told that "It's not your writing; we're just not into brain tumors." I'm not either. Trust me I had no choice in the matter.

What I did have control of was putting on my game face every day and stepping up to the plate. Again and again and again. Strike one. Strike two. Strike three. I was out.

I'd gone down swinging hard. I'd finished my book, but I wasn't quite ready to clear out my locker yet and go on my merry way. So I brushed off the angel dust and pedaled my book until I found an Indie house eager and interested in something they'd never done before. Consider it a rookie's lucky break. A Big One, but unfortunately without the advance. No signing bonus or commercial endorsements for me.

This April Fools-no joke, I, Liz Holzemer, will finally join the ranks of published authors who've come before me. And to make the sweet spot even sweeter, my book's debut falls on my miracle son's third birthday. I can only hope when Curveball: When Life Throws You a Brain Tumor approaches the plate, it hits a grand slam out of the park on Opening Day.

And if you're willing to help me avoid staring at row after row of empty metal chairs, please join me at the Highlands Ranch Tattered Cover on Thursday, April 5 at 7:30 p.m. where I'll do my inaugral book signing. I'd love to meet you and personally thank those that have been especially supportive during my brain tumor-and-road-to-publishing journey.