I did it. I sent a letter to someone who may be able to help me figure out what to do next with the manuscript to my first novel, namely .epublishing. If this doesn’t light a fire under my butt, I don’t know what will. Why am I finding this so hard to do? I guess it’s the fear of rejection, or worse, being ‘graded’ badly.
An out and out ‘no,’ we can’t publish your book, (via the traditional route of querying my manuscript), wouldn’t be as bad as not selling more than ten copies of my ebook (all to my family, no doubt). To me, going to the trouble to create an .epub version of my book and then failing to sell it would be like getting a C minus in class. After A minuses and even a few A’s, I’m spoiled on getting good grades. My most recent university class, I did not perform as well as I should have. Yes, I’m an honours student, which sets the bar higher than usual. So, after taking off to Hawaii and missing three classes, I wasn’t surprised to get only a C plus on the midterm (my lowest grade in twenty years, by the way). Then, in addition to missing the copious amounts of notes needed for the midterm while in Hawaii, I found out I’d missed the handing out of assigned essay topics as well. With only two weeks to go until the essay was due, all the best books were gone from the library shelves, and I found the essay topics uninspiring. I scrambled to put together the paper, and I received a B plus, but my professor’s remarks said he found it a “very disappointing final paper.” Of course he did, so did I, for that matter. I like to get A’s, and I’m sure he expected more from an honours student. His disappointment still stings, and my B plus grade overall is the first time I haven’t got an A since the 2007 school year.
Maybe it seems crazy to care this much about grades, but I’m habitualized to measure my success this way. So I hesitate to want to put my work out there to be graded, even though it is a necessary part of sharing my work, and hopefully making some money to fund future time spent writing more novels. Time to stop thinking about it, and just do it. The time is going to pass anyway. If this post seems filled with too much angst to be written by a grown up, I did admit to my mother the other day that despite being due for one, I’m way too immature to have a mid life crisis.