No Life But The Writer's Life

I just took the dog outside and noticed it's looking a little cloudy. Is there rain in the forecast? I wouldn't know.
See, nowadays I come home from work, start up my computer, and work for another four hours or so. Jacquelyn Sylvan's my name, getting you to know it is my game. I'm writing articles and blogs and press releases, all so I can make sure that, when my book comes out in January, you'll recognize my name, and buy it.
Not that I'm complaining...I'm actually starting to see some progress, which has alleviated some of the deep-seated oh-my-god-i'm-never-going-to-make-it terror which permanently resides about a quarter-inch beneath my breastbone. Now, when I Google myself (I know, pathetic, ain't I?) I get nearly two full pages of writing-relevant results on myself, and almost the same on my book title.
I'm nowhere near relaxing, though. Au contraire, I still have another book I'm writing, waiting to hear back on a query, still trying to book libraries for creative writing workshops, continuing to search for fodder for articles, and fighting with the local papers to actually publish the press releases I'm sending them.
But it's okay, because Google knows who I am.