*More formats could be forthcoming if there is a demand (let me know if you want it for non-Kindle ereader or a print-on-demand format! Numbers speak).
Or, “Let the Hyperventilating Begin”
I hit “publish” on my first ebook, What You Will, this morning in order to give Amazon their “up to 24 hours to process” it and still have it out by morning of my stated release day, June 1. A few minutes ago one of my besties texted me to say she found it available. So, it’s official. I am a published author!
I am aglow with giddiness right now, but this morning I was as nervous as I was excited, or perhaps more, and I half-expect that to come creeping back once I start sending out review copies to various romance sites and blogs.
Why? I know that I have enjoyed rereading what I wrote. I know that I have not changed a word or spotted a typo in three or four reading passes. There is apparently nothing I would change about my story or my characters.
But…I am a mass of anxiety when I consider my work being completely available to the public.
I think it’s simply part of being a writer. It doesn’t matter how many pieces I finish, it seems; I will write the last word, and think, “Okay, that was good,” and be happy with it, and yet the second I hit send on an email to anyone—even my mother, who I know will love everything I write—I get nervous. I second-guess my own taste level. I worry about things like too much sex, or not enough sex, or some gaping plot hole that I couldn’t see for falling into it, or….
These are not true fears, in the sense that I think they have substance. They are simply the ineluctable human fear of standing naked before an audience and being found wanting…the natural reaction to feeling exposed and vulnerable.
In real life I would make a joke of it, and pass it off.
I’m not sure how to make a joke of my one big dream. So I won’t try. Instead I will say: