Technically that should be “The beginning of the end of the first draft of my first book” but that wasn’t quite as catchy.
I am maybe 80% through the first draft of the novel I’ve been working on since
2004, April . It’s complicated. I had the idea and started the thing back in 2004, then I took a short break of ummm…10 years and went back to it in April this year, but completely re-imagined the whole thing.
Now I’m at the stage where I’m wrapping up. I’m attempting to bring the main story arc and the subplots together and tie them up (not too tightly) and snip off any loose ends. I’m finding it hard because I…uh…don’t have a definite ending yet, but shhhhh! Let’s not talk about that right now.
I feel like everywhere I look there are people writing books that are better than mine. That almost every person I see on Twitter has “author/writer” in their bio. That there are literally millions of books in the world floating around and I am beginning to question what exactly mine is going to add.
There are also terrible books selling in droves, and brilliant books that no one has heard of.
So you could say I am having a slight crisis of confidence. In fact if you were to say that, I would freely admit that you’d probably just made the understatement of the year. I’m having huge doubts about everything that I’m doing at the minute, as evidenced by my last post. Maybe I could turn this into a series: “What I’m Feeling Insecure About Today”. What fun that would be- both to write and to read.
Seriously though, it’s just that it’s so hard to write in a way that does the idea in your head justice. It is hard to write something original that grabs people’s interest and even harder to then hold that interest enough for them to buy your book, read it and maybe write a review or tell a handful of friends. It is hard to get published, and even if you choose to self publish then there are difficulties there too. How do your promote yourself and your book without ramming it down people’s throats and getting on everyone’s nerves? No doubt there are a million other things about writing that are difficult that I don’t even know about yet because I am that naive I won’t even have considered them.
But here’s the thing: I love to write. I want to write. I need to finish this book. Even if it isn’t the best idea anyone ever had or the greatest thing anyone ever wrote.
If I got zapped out of existence tomorrow by a stray alien laser beam I would mightily pissed off about missing out on a vast array of life’s wonders, particularly being robbed of the opportunity to grow old with Chris and see my children grow up, but I can’t lie, this unfinished book would bug the crap out of my ethereal self.
It’s not like anyone else can do it for me. Were it that I could communicate the ideas via telepathic brain wave from my head into someone else’s, I’ve got to say- I’d be tempted. But I can’t.
So I just need to get on and do it…which is why I am procrastinating here obviously.