I have posted on here a few times about my book. Well, another milestone has successfully been passed.
I am finished editing!!!!
(those exclamation points pretty much violated every writing rule I have ever been taught, but you know what? Creative license. Answer to everything.)
It was a process that took a lot of time, and probably well over a thousand revisions. But I am DONE.
Well, except for a title. I do kinda need one of those.
We’re in the process of converting it to a PDF, which will be sent out to a very small number of beta readers, who will respond to me with their initial reactions to the book. Then I’ll probably make a few last-minute tweaks. And then? The next step? The next step is an actual, physical book. Like, with a cover. And paper. And I get to hold it in my hands.
I really should be excited, but I have no idea how I feel about this. I expected, you know, angelic music or something when I finished. But that didn’t happen. Nope. Everyone just went on with their days as normal. But that’s okay. Because I didn’t exactly feel all angelic-music-y. Finishing felt… cathartic. But also like I’m missing something. I’ve been working on this piece every single day for almost a year. I probably know these characters as well or better than I know my own family.
And now, it’s out of my hands.
I am notoriously protective of my work. Probably overprotective.
I did not allow anyone to see this book until I was typing it up, and my tendonitis-y wrists were in agony, at which point, my mom (incredible person that she is) typed up parts of it for me from my notebook, where it was handwritten. Even then, I convinced her not to read the whole thing, and not to think about what she was typing up.
Then, it was a tough decision, but I let people edit it. Three whole people. Record-breaking numbers by my standards.
And now I’m about to let more people in on it.
And after that? Even more. And that number won’t be under my control, not at all.
I know that as a writer, I’m supposed to want an audience. I’m supposed to want my work to take off. But I just want to point out that letting go is a really scary decision. It’s exciting, I’m not going to lie. I do love the idea that someone on the other side of the country might be reading my book in just a few short weeks. And you know what? An idea of that magnitude is sort of incredible.
And to get there, I have to let go.