Those of you who are loyal readers of this blog know things have been a little angst-ish around here lately. Jon's deep into the middle of his first draft and Lisa's contemplating both the end of one journey and the possible beginning of another. As for me, I just finished my latest draft. You would think I would be pretty stoked about that, but I'm not. I'm going to keep the angst train alive, kids, at least for a little while.
So what's my problem? I'm worried it's still not ready.
If I were to take the traditional publishing route, my next step would be to find an agent and through that process I would find out if it's ready or not.
Problem solved, right?
Unfortunately, I have no intention of doing that. Ironic, eh?
So where does that leave me? On my own. Yes, I have the Scribblerati as well as friends, family, and the Lovely Leann, but at the end of the day it's all going to come down to me.
Am I ready to set my baby free?
I think so. I hope so.
Could I make To Kill the Goddess better? Probably. Most likely. After all, it was Leonardo da Vinci who said, "Art is never completed, only abandoned." At some point I have to follow Leo's advice and cut this bad boy loose, but there are a thousand articles and posts out there in the inter-webs screaming about how you will ruin your career if you self publish before your book is ready. I know most of those articles are meant for people who do NaNoWriMo in November and then put their book on Amazon in December, but that doesn't mean those articles aren't true.
I know my book is better than before. It feels good, like a proton torpedo ready to slide down the exhaust shaft, but still – I worry and maybe I shouldn't. After all, I'm confident that worse has been published. Look no farther than Fifty Shades of Gray or Mockingjay, which I'm currently choking down like a big plate of squirming gagh.