Two weeks ago I finished my novel. Ok technically I finished actually writing in the spring. But then I spent several months slowly working through it from the beginning, fixing obvious errors and looking for conspicuous gaps. It was a slow process especially amidst my busiest work season.
After slogging through for months and almost giving up multiple times, I was suddenly done. I exported the whole thing from Scrivner (badly as it turns out) and made some quick formatting adjustments before sending it off to my writer’s group for a beta read. (Also to a lovely friend who says this is her favorite genre and has been anxiously waiting to read this book since she knew I began writing it years ago).
Almost as soon as I hit send, I felt ambivalent. I should be excited. I should celebrate. But instead I feel kind of numb inside. All the doubts I have about my own writing abilities (and lack of public reach) came rushing over me.
I began researching again, for the first time in years, what the publishing options for a book of this genre are like. Turns out the publishing industry (like most everything else), is in worse shape than it was four years ago. My options as an as of yet unagented author are limited. Book proposal templates ask for estimates on sales figures and lists of famous people willing to endorse me. Few things are more disheartening.
I’ve always known that I probably didn’t have the kind of contacts a publisher would be looking for, but being reminded stung. Now I was faced with not just my doubts about my own abilities but being reminded of my personal and industry deficiencies.
I told my husband that this either the best thing I’ve ever written or the worst. (The reality is it’s probably neither).
I don’t know how I expected to feel, but this wasn’t it.
It’s a strange and unexpected feeling, both relieved and also terrified. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I really did in fact complete this book. Even if it never sees a publisher or appears on a shelf at Barnes and Noble (or my local Indie bookstore). The accomplishment still stands.
Whatever comes next, I keep returning to the reality of what I’ve done and some part of me is pleased. The rest of me is still shocked, scared, discouraged, etc. But I get to embrace that little part of me that is celebrating because I finished.
Leave a Comment