Every time I have a freak out – and trust me I have A LOT. i am not writing this fishing for compliments I am writing out the truth. Person to person. Kay? This isn’t a pity me post, it isn’t a feel sympathy post. This is me expressing something that I really need to get out there.
I freak out every time i really thinking about releasing Damaged. That isn’t to say that I don’t love my book, I do. That isn’t egoistical, a) that would be ridiculous b) i have every right to be damn proud of something i poured my heart and soul into.
BUT. (there is always a but – well i should certainly hope there would be 😉 ) anyways…. BUT. I freak out. I freak out because I have had workshop classes in college, I have taken creative writing classes. I have HAD people read my unpublished work and criticize me. It’s terrifying. It can be devastating. It can be so much more. I freak out because i am a pessimistic at heart, and in reality i am a realist. Not everyone is going to love Damaged – OH GASP! – I know this. Still doesn’t make things easier. I freak out because all I can think in my awesome pessimistic, poofy haired head is: no one is going to like it. (please don’t comment saying of course people are going to like it – i realize people will its just how my mind works). I freak out because I didn’t PAY for an editor this time around. I didn’t have the means to. Things surely would have been missed. Shit happens, people make mistakes. I freak out because in the end, the person who gives my book it’s first one star rating, for them it will be a lost of a couple hours, and a few cents. For me? It will be a heartbreak that will probably last me the rest of my life. (and please don’t say you need to let this things just roll off your shoulders) I KNOW this, trust me I do. I also know how much it hurts, and how much the bad stuff sticks verses the good stuff even though we try to ignore it.
So every night getting closer and closer to my first ever release date, and I am threatening tears – yeah fucking tears, I don’t cry easily. (well that is a lie I get super emotional when I am sick, a lady, or when I watch Fox and the Hound because I mean if you don’t cry in that movie i might think you are a robot) And I think to myself, why the hell am I doing this?
I look to my left. Above my TV (no, sorry to say its not Friends on Nick at Nite that gets me through it) It’s the poster that I received from an author friend of mine. A friend who passed at the beginning of the year. I look at it, and I am reminded that life isn’t predictable, and if I don’t do this, IF i don’t take this leap I will forever regret it.
So for once i am going to say FUCK IT. I am going to do exactly what I want. And I am not doing this for you, sorry whoever you are. But i am not. I am not doing for my friend who passed. I am not doing for the other author’s posters that are on my walls. I am not doing it for them I am doing it for me. For once in my life I am putting myself completely and utterly first.
This is MY dream. I thought it was a fairy tale if I am going to be perfectly honest. I thought it was a damn fairy tale, not something I would never really be able to do. Now I can. And as scary as it maybe, and even I have to deal with people not loving it, not accepting it. Well at least I can say I published a book.
So every.single.time. I think about how this is the scariest, stupidest, shittest idea I could have ever done because I know bad things can happen. I know people can, and might actually might try to ruin me at every step of the way. At least I did it. At least I followed through on my dreams.
So win or lose. I did it. Every time I win.
And thank you for listening to me rant, and be a bit of a bitch 😉 catch ya on the flip side yo