Self-publishing.

Yeah. I’m doing it.

I know, I know. I said I was going to attempt querying and do the whole shebang (get an agent and we all lived happily ever after with a picket fence and 2.4 dogs, er, kids).

Anyone who’s been following my blog for a little while knows I flopped back and forth about it (don’t we all?). I spent so much time weighing the pros and cons of each – carefully and meticulously – until all cons blurred with pros and pros were cons and cons were . . . um . . . what’s going on? That was basically how it went in my head for a very long time, so I told my husband to make a decision on it. I was content with that for about a day or two, and then the mental-flopping began again. I didn’t want to blog about it because I wanted to get it sorted in my head.

I realized, after speaking with so many people, that this was a decision only I could make.

I started looking into cover artists just for curiosities sake and found one that I LOVED.

For about four days, I did nothing but flop around mentally afterward. I mulled over the word author. I’ve said it before that I will NOT call myself one unless the word aspiring is in front of it. Not yet.

One night, I looked up the definition of it. I kind of had a moment. There was no ‘traditionally published’ in the definition, of course. For one of those days, I contemplated over the word – what it meant, what it meant to other people, and what it meant to me.

Rather than focus on pros and cons, I started focusing on why. Why did I want to be published traditionally? What was drawing me to self-publishing despite the stars and rainbows and glitter of the P and the T together?

When thinking about the why . . . it fell into place.

I don’t need a publishing contract to accomplish what I’ve wanted to accomplish with this. All I want is for ONE person out there to love my books – to make an impact on a person the way that some books have impacted me. I don’t need a P and a T together for that. I don’t.

So I made the decision about a week and a half ago and I haven’t looked back since.

There hasn’t been one single flop from me, or even one second of doubting the choice I’ve made.

I don’t like posting things on here unless they’re set in stone. I’m feeling comfortable with sharing now.

I’ve been arranging things with that love-inducing cover artist and the photographer. I love them both. Seriously. Details are being figured out and things are being put in motion.

My editor had to extend the date of finishing my novel, so I won’t have it back until early to mid-October. I’m trying to get everything done that can be done until that point.

As of now, I’m shooting for early December. That’s going to depend on how everything works out, but now . . . I’ll be able to keep you all updated.

It’s so freaking weird having things moving. I spent such a long time feeling like my entire world was at a standstill.

Anyway. No more waiting. It’s time to start letting them go. I’m worried, of course, but . . . I’m feeling good. I’m excited. I never thought I’d be more excited than stressed/nervous, but . . . I am.

Wish me luck. I’m definitely going to need it.

O.O

OooooOoOoOooOoooooh. *ding* Level Up.

So I just had a light bulb moment.

I’ve had the most uh-may-zing idea for this new series I’m working on.

I will be laughing maniacally on the inside while I’m falling asleep here in about . . . five minutes or so.

I know this isn’t much, but I was stoked, and just had to share.

Guess this just added to the workload. I’m not complaining.

WRITER’S BLOCK – BEGONE!

G’day, all. And goodnight.

I’ll be enjoying the 10000xp I just received from opening that chest hidden in the corner of the map.

A new journey is nigh . . .

It’s time to start writing again . . .

The realization that the time was here again hit me a few days ago – Friday night/Saturday morning (depending on your opinion as to whether a new day actually starts until you’ve slept or not). Husband and I had spent a little time with my sister, which was nice, but somewhere along the way I started talking about my books (I’ve just recently began calling it ‘soapboxing’). At some point, Husband went inside and left Sister and I standing out in my driveway. Talk of books slowly bled over into my anxieties – both in general, and where they pertain to my work.

I don’t generally do a lot of talking when I interact with my sister. More of it now than I used to, for sure. But I think that was the most talking that I’ve ever done with her about myself . . . possibly ever. It was nice.

Anyway, there are a few points to this. She basically told me that I’m being irrational about things, which is something I’ve been aware of for an extremely long time. I know when my reactions aren’t ‘normal’, but . . . it’s me.

My realization was that it was finally time. I’ve been losing my mind, and writing is . . . Well, it keeps me sane.

I haven’t been able to write a new story – despite my attempts – since I finished The Big 2 (which is my second series and, after looking through my first yesterday, is the only one worth mentioning). I blamed it on needing to get this series going somewhere – to be able to set it free, or lay it to rest, or do something FINAL with it. Realizing that it is now in the hands of Editor and all that I’m doing is waiting to hear back . . . Well . . . that’s pretty final. I have nothing else to do with it – at least not the first book, which is the only one that I can focus on until it’s OUT THERE (until I get it back, that is).

So I’m finally – in a way – feeling that sense of finality with it. Not with the world, but with those four books and their part in it. I’m torn about that, but it had to happen eventually.

I’ve been going back and forth about WHAT I want to write next. I have a few ideas swirling around in my head, and one of them that I’d started (those attempts at writing I mentioned earlier). But after doing some major self-evaluation where it pertains to my writing – playing to strengths, etc. – I’m just not so sure that I could do a more contemporary-based-in-this-world sort of book, and do it well. I don’t know.

Which is making me look at tonight and my adventure out into my writing shed in a new light. I have about as much idea-wise as I’ve always had when starting out . . . just the basis of SOMETHING. But . . . I’m looking at it as a completely new journey. Not into a new world, which will naturally happen once I get one set up, but a journey into my own abilities and limits with writing. I just might try an experiment – solely for myself.

I’m thinking I might try this absolutely mad concept of working on multiple things at one time. Possibly that experiment while working on an entirely new story. Who knows?

I’m going to have to get much better at multitasking. I’ve already fallen behind (AGAIN) with reading on here, and I’m one day late with my three-day-limit. Could be worse.

I’ll figure something out. Some sort of schedule, or something. We’ll see how that goes.

Either way, it will be new. And no matter the apprehension I feel towards leaving the world that I’m familiar with and love so completely . . . I can’t help but be excited about going on a new journey.

It will have to be good in order to hold a candle (in my heart) next to the old one.

We’ll see. 😉

Far-Forwarding and Parenthetical Asides

I’ve made a game plan.  A well-defined (or as well defined as it can be) plan of action.

After many alternating days spent in an exhausted (sometimes strange, sometimes frustrating) headspace, it happened.  I put all things in their proper order inside of my head; I formulated my next several moves as far forward as far-forwarding things can actually go.  It feels good.

It’s funny that the planning actually happened on such a busy week.  It was such a busy week, in fact, that I didn’t do one bit of laundry.  I’m struggling now to catch up on that (along with other household type things).

All of this planning came after my last entry about paranoia getting in the way of things.  I did some thinking (especially after the very helpful feedback I received), and then I stumbled upon a new sort of understanding with myself.

I’m trying to figure out if I’d already sent the first book in my series to my friend by that point or not.  I’m not sure.  Well, I must have.  Or maybe not.  Either way, that understanding with myself was devised with myself at some point before the weekend.

That ‘understanding’ was me telling myself, “Self…you have to be smarter.  Slow everything down for a minute, THINK, and stop being an idiot.  Oh, and stop trying to rush everything for whatever reason.  Some things CANNOT be rushed.”

It seems easy.  Part of me thinks that it must have been because I can’t really remember when, exactly, I felt completely better about everything (it wasn’t immediately after formulating the plan, but sometime later).  But given how long it took me to really think – to stop for a bit and listen to what my heart was telling me…it couldn’t have been such an easy thing.  Or maybe the most difficult things can turn out to be easier than the struggle of them in the end.  Sorry, I’m rambling.  I honestly don’t have a clue what I’m saying; it was just a thought.

Husband and I went home (where I’m from, not where he’s from) for the weekend.  Saw some family.  Didn’t see some friends that I wanted to see quite badly.  Things happen; it’s neither here nor there.  But the friend who is currently in possession of my book came over.  It was the first time that I’d seen her in person since my husband and I got married several years ago.  I won’t go into the awesomeness of seeing her in general (because I could ramble for days and I’m attempting VERY HARD to start making my entries much shorter than the first few [also, personal conversations with friends are personal…she and I both know that it was a great time and I don’t need to go into that any further]), but will instead give a few thoughts on the matter where it pertains to my book. 

She isn’t finished with it yet, but I was able to sit down with her and go through some of the notes she’s made so far.  She asked me questions and I answered them to the best of my ability (so long as they didn’t give away relevant things (secrets) that come into play later).  She and I spent quite a while going over the prologue with a fine-toothed comb – tweaking it in all the places that bothered me.    It was the first time that I’d felt good about the ONE part of the book that gave me innumerable headaches.

I was happy about all of it while it was happening and immediately after, but I think it took some time for it to really sink in for me. 

You see, I always take some time after interactions with people about my books to really analyze everything – tones of voice, facial expressions.  I dwell on those things until I’m positive that I’ve deduced all aspects of a person’s feelings on the matter.  Not many people have read them, so all input (in any form it comes) is valid and extremely relevant to me.  It’s all important.  Everything is all something that could potentially help.

I know that my mother loved all of them, but not because she asked me a plethora of questions about them.  I get quite a lot of my opinionated being from my mother.  Though she saw the main character (and the situations, relationships, secrets) COMPLETELY differently than I intended for them to be seen, she didn’t bother asking me what they were supposed to actually be (regardless of my ridiculously widened eyes due to just how far from home her taking of them as a whole were from my own).  My mother was content with the way that she saw everything, which – though immensely baffling – was satisfactory to me.  So no, I don’t know that she liked them for that reason (seeing them the way I intended).  I know that she did because she read all four of them two times and my mother does not read.  I’m STILL trying to figure out how in the world she didn’t catch where I’d added TEN THOUSAND words into the last one.  I digress.

I will not get further into the other people who have read them (or how they felt, or how I felt, or anything, actually).  It’s not relevant.

I’ve been asked questions about them, sure.  People have listened to me ramble for days about them, sure.  My husband never needed to ask questions because – by the time he was actually reading the first one – he knew everything that happened in all of them, and the ins and outs of all the characters.

I’ve never had a…back and forth with a person about them.  At least not in the way that I had with her over the weekend.

It was very eye-opening – in a lot of ways.  And it was what I’d been waiting for.

I’ve had a great many questions about them swirling around in my head for months on end now.  How would the main character be taken?  She’s very…strange.  I thought she would be extremely difficult to relate to (it was one of my bigger fears), but I’m thinking now that she won’t be.  I’m thinking now there’s a possibility that some people out there might love her nearly as much as I do. 

Would the hints be picked up? 

That was a big one.  The way that I’ve written both of my series is to drop hints about future things – whether that be scenarios, or simply character traits.  That makes it fun for me to write, and I’m hoping that will make it fun for other people to read.  I’m glad to say that – from what I read of her notes and analyzing her questions – some of them have been, and some of them haven’t.  The surprises are just so fun.

I think she was worried that her constructive notes would make me feel horrible.  I’ve wanted constructive criticism from the get-go.  I needed someone to look at my books objectively – to take ME out of the equation and see them for what they were…someone else’s story that I was telling for them.  I love every character that lives in that world, but I’ve done everything that I could for them without assistance.  I just want it to be told as well as it possibly can be.  This is one of those instances where my pride will not stand in my way.  In fact, with this one thing, my pride is basically nonexistent.  My pride will constantly get in my way, but I refuse to allow it to hinder the story any longer.

It was just so exciting – all of it.  I’ll stop with it there because I’ve already written more than I wanted to and still not said nearly 1/10 of what I could.

So basically, things are moving along in the book avenue.  I’ve got the next steps planned out, and now…I’m just waiting for everything to line up so that those next things can be knocked out.  I just…I just feel better about all of it as a whole.

In other news…

We’ve reached our monthly data cap for our internet.  For those of you who do not have to deal with such things…of this one thing, I am envious.  For those of you who do not know what that means…It means that, until our billing month is reset, my internet is moving slower than dial-up.  That is not an exaggeration.  SLOWER.  THAN.  DIAL.  UP.

And doesn’t it figure that Facebook – which I care about less than I can say – is moving along swiftly, but this website does NOT want to load ANYTHING? 

Please be patient with me responding to comments (or ‘liking’ posts because sometimes the ‘LIKE’ button will not pop up on the first go for me when I’m reading other people’s blogs).  I will try to do so as quickly as possible, but some pages take more than fifteen minutes to load…a LOT more.  My newfound patience for my books does not carry over to staring at a blank computer screen and waiting for something simple to load on it.  It’s been very difficult not to throw my computer screen at a wall.  Or out of the window.

That is all.  Have a lovely day.

I’m not sorry for all of the parenthetical asides contained in this entry (or in any other XD).

Also…I don’t write my books that way.  No worries.

Author Excitement…

It’s contagious, isn’t it?

I’ve said it before on here that I had no idea what to expect when I started this thing.  Kind of silly, isn’t it, to have never contemplated the fact that I would be interacting with other writers on an outlet where everyone is a writer of some sort?  I could laugh at myself for it, if I didn’t feel so ignorant.

If I could go back with that knowledge – a week, two weeks, a year…what would I think?

A very small portion of me wonders if I would’ve been jealous.  I am not a jealous person by nature, as I feel that no one person has any more or less to offer than the next.  But given that I’d never had a dream before the AUTHOR dream…Would I be jealous to see other people living it while I was struggling to keep my head above the water?

It’s a very small portion that thinks – at first glance – I very well might have assumed I would be.

I am not jealous.

I am the furthest thing from it.

I keep going to these random people’s blogs.  Some of them have books published; some of them are struggling to get through writing their first.

Some of them are raging in excitement over a request for a manuscript, or the first glance at the finished product of the first thing the world will see of all their hard work – the cover.  The availability of the finished product – a piece of their life, ready and waiting for the world to grab hold of.

I’m not surprised that I feel no resentment, but I am somewhat surprised by my own reaction towards all of it.

I keep smiling.  I am so excited for these people, struggling and prevailing.  I am so excited for these people to be having the moment that I am so looking forward to having myself – the moment that I will have, one way or another.  And I’m smiling now as I write this.

I smile when someone seems genuinely appreciative of anything that I have to say to them.

This website is somewhat exhausting.  I feel like I don’t have enough hours in the day to do everything that I want to, but…it’s worth it.

So, to all of my fellow authors out there – whether aspiring, like me, or established – I will say to you now the same thing that I try to say to all of you I come across.

Good luck.

And I mean those two words, more deeply than I can express.