The people I know have begun to purchase the novel on Amazon from the very day it became available on the website. The sales rating at which it has fluctuated has surprised me.
- A big "THANK YOU" goes out to all of you for promoting the book on your Facebook walls and through word of mouth. I appreciate your support more than you realize.
It's very scary to put one's own writing out there for people to judge. I knew I was going to have to brave the world when I decided to publish, but I didn't know it would be my own written words that would mock and intimidate me, making me doubt myself.
Being only human, I have come to realize that it's okay to fear. What isn't okay is to fear not. It's when we don't fear that we walk overly confident and ignorant of the hidden crevices and cliffs on the roads we, ourselves, pave. That's when we tend to fall the hardest. I can only hope that I haven't walked blindly.
Today, I started tiding up my dining room table which is where I can write without being distracted. I had unconsciously created a fort around my laptop surrounding it with boxes, floral wire-cutters, copies of manuscripts, make-up -- you name it, it was there. As I picked up the final copy of the manuscript, I decided to glance at the first chapter, and that's when the nerves began to stir.
I decided I didn't like Chapter One, so I went on to Chapter Two. Chapters Two through Seven were okay. Chapter Eight made me wonder why I didn't write more in Chapters Two through Six. I skipped back to Chapter One and hated it. I jumped to Chapter Nine and fell in love with it again. I skipped to Chapter Eleven, where I found some very enticing details, but I worried it wouldn't fit in with Chapter Seventeen, which then prompted me to look over Chapters Fifteen and Sixteen, which gave the story some flare. Finally, I read the last chapter of the novel, closed it, and set it aside.
For seven hours, I criticized my writing. I was on the verge of tears by that point because I just didn't know what to think of it anymore. What if my audience found it ridiculous and boring? What if it was terrible?
Usually, I'm very proud to create something, and I'm a positive person as far as the reaction I expect from others. Today, however, I wasn't that person.
I sent my sister a text telling her the book sucked, and that I was ready to confess my sins and die. She said, "It's done, and you did it all by yourself. You should be proud." That didn't help this time.
I stared at the book cover wondering what had made me think I could write and publish a novel. I pulled the binder that contained the manuscript toward me and opened it to a random page to continue my silent self-pity rant. Upset at myself, I glanced at the page I had opened it to, and I found something to which I didn't pay attention while I was obsessing:
“It was not for hunger of worship or conceit from which he placed this..."
|I'm hand painting these butterflies for the book launch|
After reading those words, I remembered this:
I didn't write my book for vanity. I wrote it to entertain two people -- my sister and me. I didn't even want to put my picture on the back cover, now that I think about it.
I admit that having it sell and go up in the sales rating list does feel good, but it doesn't mean anyone will be impressed once they're done reading. That's okay though, because you know what? Both of the people it was meant for do like it, and that's worth the two years it took to write.
So, if you read it, and like it, I'm happy; and, if you read it, and don't like it, I'm happy too.
From now it's nothing but happy thoughts of colorful rainbows and glittery unicorns. And, in the famous words of Forest Gump: "That's all I have to say about that," because, "my momma thinks I'm special," and that's good enough for me.
I thank you, I thank you, and I thank you for visiting and reading my blog.
Ciao, bellas creaturas!