*sighs and groans of life leaving my body*
The past week month super-long day-melding period of time has been brutal. Countless all-nighters have been pulled. I worked my tail off, and finally… I’m ready for an editor! And I found one, too. As I’ve said before, I’ve taken little Sabine as far as I can go with her. Developmental edits are all taken care of, because I DID ‘EM (because that’s a totally different thing from copyedits and proofreads, BTDUBBS. I still need those, preferably done by someone who’s NOT ME). I’ve beaten the living daylights out of that story and now it’s looking pretty nice. Like, really nice.
But I’m getting a feeling now, and it’s not a good one. You know how in the movies when some person is running through the seemingly endless woods, trying to find their car or a gas station or something that isn’t trees and dirt? That was me. Now, I’ve run through the three-year long wooded forest hell, and I’m out! BUT. Know what I realized? A lot of times when the person gets “out” of those woods, they find themselves in a clearing staring out at more trees.
You wrote a book? Edited the unrelenting suckiness out of it? Feeling pretty ready to get ‘er on a shelf? GREAT. NOT DONE YET. There’s editors out there who aren’t you, that can probably make words sound better than you do even if you’re already happy with the actual story. Since I’m self-publishing, there’s even MORE details that get worked in. ISBN numbers (which are an absolute BEY-OTCH for being so damn expensive–thanks for the love, Bowker). Media kits (whatever the hell those are). Cover designs. Creating an imprint because you want to be taken seriously. Copyrighting that sucker. Nope, it’s not all peach cobbler and singing “Slow Ride” in the shower.
This stuff takes time. Money. Guts. Ever-loving sanity and restraining the urge to hide in a corner and cry yourself to death.
But no matter how many times I’ve stared blankly at my funds (or lack thereof), or glazed over watching Youtube videos about how to self-publish, or Googled for the twelve-zillionth time how to successfully create an imprint, I’ll never give up. I’ve made it up in my mind that this story is the best it can be, and it’s going to that editor. I’m done writing the story, and it’s about time I got it out into the world.
Something I realized while I was doing research is that it might’ve been better to try to get the word out about my story being near-publication sooner. Well, better late than never, right? Attention lovely readers: I’M NEAR PUBLICATION. My debut novel is called Here For A Reason (which I’ve mentioned before, but I’m mentioning again). It’s just occurred to me that I’ve never really gotten into details about what it’s really about, so I will now. My main character is Sabine Colasanti, a seventeen-year-old poet who just loves nature. Total snark machine. She’s forced by her mother, Jan, to go to youth group, but feels isolated from her fellow teens. Bridget, one of the popular kids (because yes, some youth groups do have popular kids), spits out a mean-spirited comment, and before you know it our little Sabine—who already has self-esteem issues to begin with—is driven to suicide. Oh, and did I mention she’s successful? In chapter seven out of twenty-two?
“Well, writer brah person, what happens next?”
GOOD QUESTION, BROTHER-FRIEND. GOOD QUESTION.
Hang tight. You’ll just have to read it for yourself when I publish it. BECAUSE I WILL. As soon as I can get everything in order, I will. Because I just can’t wait to share this story with all you lovely people.
BACK TO THE TRENCHES, I GO!
So, fellow writers, have you ever self-published? Was it soul-crushing? The payoff is undoubtedly worth it, I’m sure. Reader-peoples, how does this strike you? You may not be aware of the struggle that went into making the stories you adore. Stay tuned, peoples!