No one ever told me it would be this hard. I thought writing the book was the difficult part. *laughs* Boy was I wrong. The last few months have been an absolute whirlwind. I’ve never exchanged so many e-mails or made so many business calls in my life. I’ve never been more excited for something to finally happen…or more scared.
And all of it has boiled down to this one lone minute. The minute where everything finally sinks in, and I realize: this is it. There’s no turning back now. Not that I want to. A million fiery horses couldn’t drag me away from seeing this dream through. Not now. Not ever.
But there’s this strange, surreal quality to everything. Some days, I feel as if I’m shuffling through life in a trance—terrified that something will jolt me and the walls of this carefully constructed fantasy will come crashing down around my feet in an instant. Nothing feels real right now. Nothing, that is but this maddening combination of unbridled excitement and sheer terror.
After months of editing, cover mock ups, e-mails, contracts, phone calls, and formatting….Requiem is heading to the printer. Everything is in place, ready to go…and I don’t know if I want to sing and dance my way through the city streets, or rock myself silly in the corner of my bathroom and throw up.
I guess the answer here is both.
And that I’m probably a little neurotic.
But it’s okay.
I’d be a liar if I said this moment never crossed my mind. All those years I spent writing like a mad woman until I thought my fingers would fall off, I had a small dream of having a published book. But to be honest, I never really thought that moment would come. I thought it was a pipedream. Something beautiful to cling to, a motivation to keep me going—something way beyond reach to strive for. It gave me hope, and fuel for the fire I used to feed my hunger for escape and words.
I wonder how many other people have yearned for the same. I wonder how many have tried to convince themselves their dreams, too, are impossible.
Nothing is impossible.
The world of self-publishing has opened so many doors. It’s proven there is a calling out there for new voices and ideas to be explored. Many small presses have flung open their doors in hopes of the same. No longer do authors have to sweat and toil with only the hope of a Big 6 to cling to. (Oh but you must still sweat and toil just as hard if you hope to succeed.) But now, there are so many other options, other venues to explore.
If you can dream it…you can do it. You just have to be willing to put in the time and effort. Mass quantities of it. Hard time—because like anything else in life, you’re only going to bring back what you are willing to put in. And even then, there are no guarantees.
Maybe publishing is a lot like a weekend in Vegas. You stand at the table. Perhaps for a moment, you tremble with a combination of anticipation and fear. Maybe you blow on the dice or plant a kiss on them for good luck. Then you let go.
There are no guarantees where things will land. You could win big—you could take a loss. Either way, you’re in it for the long haul. And in that moment, that one beautiful moment where everything hangs suspended, you close your mind, wish for the best, and simply just breathe.
Then the hard work sets in again.
I’m not really sure what the point of this blog post is. Part of me just needed to blow off some steam and try to relax—to remind myself to take the moment in and savor it. The other part, the bigger one, is hoping that somewhere out there, someone is listening. Someone who is in doubt. Someone who doesn’t have the courage or belief in themselves to reach for the stars and seek what’s in their heart.
I want them to know…if I can do it, you can too.
Don’t give up. Don’t give in. Just keep going.
That’s all any of us can really do.