So I have finally edited the last dropped comma, (pretty sure) on four out of six completed stories. I do have a seventh but it needs so much work I just don’t see it happening by the deadline I have set for myself. So even though I have two left to go and should be working on finishing those and the finish line is in sight I am taking my eyes off the finish line and focusing on other things.
I sat up for an hour last night wondering on how to work the release. I want to do all six at once, do I do the blog tour thing I was thinking of, do I do the party release on Facebook everyone seems to be doing? AN HOUR, I am NOT exaggerating. There are still two more to finish, they are shorter and need the least amount of work, why the hell did I not even open one up and just start working? It has annoyed the fuck out of me that it takes about an hour just to do ten pages but that was ten pages I could have down, but no I chose to fixate on something that shouldn’t be something I should be thinking about yet.
There will still be the issue of formatting which will be the last hurdle and it could be a quick turn around or a week or more because I am completely inept when it comes to that and am not even going to try. Totally shouting out ebook76.com because he is awesome and only charges $1.00 per thousand words and for that price you get both mobi (Kindle) and epub (Nook) files for that price. The price is so worth it I’m not going to bother with the migraine of learning to format, I have already once and I almost ended up in tears of frustration.
Only when the files are back and safe on my computer should I look into putting them up and what might go along with it.
I’m mad at myself for not going into it last night so I come home and pull it up and I’m not even three pages in and my mind is elsewhere. I’m in my kitchen cleaning, when I clean it’s bad, it’s avoidance at its worst. I drop my favorite big coffee mug and burst into tears. It’s not the mug, I’m crying about. (Although I loved that damn mug.) I popped two Xanax and took my ass to the couch and after I stopped crying I looked at my laptop silent and waiting and figured it out.
I’m scared, I’m doubting myself all over again. I’ve tried this once before and failed miserably. I fell down and brushed myself off and now I’m trying again, I did more research, I read everything about those able to write for a living, I read nearly everything in my genre, I read reviews for hours upon hours over weeks on those that were succeeding and those that weren’t, I spent months looking for the right cover artist. I have rewritten and edited until I’m quite frankly sick of looking at what I’ve written.
I don’t want to be a millionaire, that isn’t the brass ring, it’s being able to support myself off of writing. It’s being able to pay rent and the bills, it won’t take much. I’m not setting the bar high, with all of that I’m afraid I won’t be able to even get there. That I can’t reach even the small first jump and that it will all be for nothing. I know you won’t be able to quit your day job off of one book, that’s why there’s six. The feedback has been good but the beta readers still know me and because of that I don’t really trust them, I just don’t.
I’m doubting my work is good enough, that I’m good enough. I’m afraid that once again I’m going to try and fail and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to try again.