Every book I’ve written has had its own set of ups and downs. The initial idea, the first attempt at getting it on paper, the hair-pulling brain obstructions that seem to stretch to infinity, the first reaction from readers, the close editing and rewrites and the horrifying look of cover designs that eventually turn into something that will reflect the pages inside. At some point you smack an ISBN and other book matter on it and after checking off a bazillion more items off the task list (like a marketing plan, mustn’t forget a marketing plan) you hold your breath, cross your fingers and hit publish. At each stage, you can’t help but feel a jumble of emotions that tumble like balls in a bingo drum.
Anticipation, frustration, pride, fear, hopefulness, self-doubt and the unadulterated knowledge that, come what may, you’ve done the best you could.
As a writer, you try to find places that inspire you, people who help you sort through your wacky ideas and tell you when you’re way off base. You sort through opinions then sometimes, just close your eyes and jump and hope you’ve made the right choices.
At the end of the day, it’s you and your keyboard, a story and, hopefully, a reader somewhere who gets some enjoyment out of the work.
I have no idea what my point is here, other than to say, I’m going to be hitting publish soon on a new book and as I creep closer to the end of my task list, I can’t help but look back and see the familiar terrain. So far, each time I’ve traveled this road, it’s been worth every step. It’s no different this time, only I’m feeling a bit lighter on my feet, a bit more hopeful. Every other journey has had its own set of challenges and rewards but this one feels … different.