I just got the final drafts of my first three covers from the amazing Kim Killion of Hot DAMN! Designs. I’m madly in love with these and excited to hear what everyone thinks.

This is one of those nerve-wracking indie author moments: I have no editor, agent, or sales department to offer input, so it’s all up to me. Which is incredibly cool. And incredibly scary.

I had originally planned to upload all three books this month, but I’m behind schedule because I’m revising FALCON ON THE WIND from start to finish. (The hero, Connor, doesn’t wanna be revised and is giving me all kinds of headaches.) Watch for these in July, just in time to heat up your mid-summer reading!

I know, I know, I’m behind on blogging. Things may be quiet around here, but trust me, there’s a flurry of activity going on behind the scenes.

I’m in the middle of a massive revision of FALCON ON THE WIND, my first published novel. I just did a light edit on HIS FORBIDDEN TOUCH, and FOREVER HIS will be up next. My formatter is scanning and proofing like crazy. I have a top artist working on a trio of gorgeous covers. And my new website designer is creating an all-new shellythacker.com that I think readers are going to love. So “Team Shelly” is crazy-busy right now.

But in the middle of all this madness, I got some amazing news today that I just had to share right away.

That WAHOOOOOO you heard this afternoon? It came from the direction of Minneapolis. When I went to the mailbox to get my People magazine, there was a skinny little envelope from Random House on top.

As I mentioned in my last post, I already own the rights to all seven of my Avon books. When I decided to launch this new indie adventure, I sent a letter to Random House to try and reclaim my two Dell books. To be honest, I didn’t have high hopes. My Dell books were lead titles, and fellow authors warned me that Random House is taking a tough stance on this issue. Writer Beware just reported that Random is in a bare-knuckled brawl with agents over backlist rights. Plus, they’re planning to launch RomanceAtRandom this summer to promote their romance novels directly to consumers.

All in all, I thought Random House would put up more of a fight than Avon did. Still, it was worth a shot, so I mailed my letter April 7. I figured it would take months to get a reply, if they bothered to reply at all.

But I’m holding in my hands right now a letter from an Executive VP at Random House, who has signed over all rights to my two Dell books. No fuss, no fighting, just a simple little one-paragraph letter saying the rights “are hereby reverted to you.”

I got tears in my eyes when I read those words. TIMELESS and INTO THE SUNSET are all mine. They’re two of my personal favorites, and it would have killed me to lose them.

But this letter makes it official: I now own 100% of my backlist. Every published novel I ever wrote belongs entirely to me. This is rather rare among traditionally published authors, so I’m astonished and overjoyed by my good fortune.

I’m free. Completely free. This will most likely be the last letter I ever receive from a New York publisher — because I’m done with New York. I no longer care what New York wants, what New York thinks, or what New York does. The traditional New York publishing industry broke my heart, kicked me in the teeth, and left me in a ditch.

If any man ever treated me that way, I’d get a restraining order.

But for years, I kept signing contracts and accepting this treatment as “normal.” Because there was no alternative.

Now there’s an alternative. Maybe going indie isn’t for everyone, but it fits me like a custom-knit sweater. Zero deadlines plus total creative control is an intoxicating combination. At this point, I have no idea if I’ll make one dime from this new career. I haven’t even uploaded my first backlist books yet.

All I know right now is that I wake up happy, every single day. I’m eager to get to the keyboard. I’m ready to tackle whatever challenges come my way. Writing hasn’t made me feel this good in years.

I’m not sure why Random House let me go so easily. My guess is that I’m a has-been with a capital “H” in their eyes. They probably thought, “Meh, she’s been out of print for years. Let her have her books back. She’ll never amount to anything.”

I hope to prove them wrong about that.

I certainly wouldn’t be the first.

I was in the kitchen on the evening of March 9, helping my kids with a craft project, when my husband Mark came in brandishing The St. Paul Pioneer Press. “Did you hear the big news?”

“What big news?” I almost dropped a glue bottle. “Oh, no! Wills and Kate didn’t call off the wedding, did they?”

I’m ever so slightly obsessed with the royal wedding.

“No, no, forget them.” Mark had to wait for the squeals of Daddy! to calm down and trade welcome-home hugs before he could explain. “It’s about this writer from Austin. The one who self-publishes her own e-books?”

“Oh, that.” I started gathering up construction paper and tubes of glitter. “People have been doing that for years. Nobody makes any money at it. Girls, help me clear the table so we can get dinner started.”

“Mommy, what’s an e-book?”

I smiled at my four-year-old. “An e-book is just a silly waste of time, sweetie. Hand me that paintbox, please?”

Mark took the paints, glitter, glue, and everything else from my hands. “It’s not a waste of time anymore. You have got to read this.” He foisted the newspaper on me.

I shook my head. “E-books are only for people who can’t find a real publisher.”

“That was then.” He tapped his finger on a headline halfway down the page. “This is now.”

NO BOOKS, JUST BEST-SELLERS: A young author in Austin, Minn., finds fame — and fortune — publishing her work online.

“No way,” I said. “Really?” I skimmed the article. Amanda Hocking? Never heard of her. Years of struggle, piles of rejections, yada yada, the usual story — until she decided to self-publish her books in digital format for the Kindle and Nook and other e-readers. Now she was selling hundreds of thousands of books a month. “No way!”

I was moving now, still reading as I headed downstairs to my home office. “No way!” I couldn’t stop saying it. She was getting 70% royalties! Her earnings to date were just shy of $2 million! “You are kidding me!” She was inspired to try e-publishing because of some writer named Joe Konrath — who was so busy selling 1500 e-books a day that he declined to give the Pioneer Press an interview.

People were doing this? People were actually doing this?

I reached my office, tossed the paper, and jumped online for a quick Google.

Amanda Hocking was just the tip of the iceberg. Konrath was making six figures. A dozen other mystery authors had “gone indie.” And romance writers! Suddenly I was tripping over familiar names. Marsha Canham. Julie Ortolon. Alexis Harrington. Miriam Minger.

People were doing this! People I knew were doing this!

Cue the crash of cymbals. The bolt of lightning. The sky suddenly opening up and angels bursting into song.

I could do this!

I literally sat there with my mouth open, stunned by the possibilities. The clues that had slipped past me for months all clicked into place. The indie designers on Ravelry…the women in the cafe with their e-readers…the People magazine report that romance is the fastest-growing e-book genre.

I could do this!

I didn’t need to wait for the market to shift, for publishers to take a chance on me again. I didn’t need a publisher at all.

I could take a chance on me.

Feeling a bit dizzy, I turned and pulled open the top drawer of my file cabinet. I had the rights back to my out-of-print books, didn’t I? I thought I remembered getting those rights back. I found my thick Contracts file and started tearing through it. Where were those letters?

For years, I had tried to get the rights back to my out-of-print books. I’m not sure why I was so persistent, when I didn’t have much hope of ever getting published again. By 2001, I had almost given up. But when we moved to Minnesota, I needed to send my ex-literary agent an address update — and while I was at it, I had asked him to please try, one more time, to get Avon to relinquish my backlist.

Four years later, Avon finally relented.

I let out a whoop of relief and joy as I found the letters. I was the proud owner of a slim stack of paperwork dated 2005, granting me all rights to my out-of-print Avon books.

They were mine! All of them. I could e-publish my backlist. Even better, I could write new books. All the spin-offs and sequels I never had the chance to write. And short stories. Novellas. Whatever I wanted!

I jumped up and did a happy dance right there in the middle of my office. I wasn’t just happy, I was delirious. It wasn’t Wednesday, it was Someday.

I get to be an author again.