Today is the two-year anniversary of one of the most amazing things to ever happen to me.
On October 18, 2015, I self-published my first full-length novel, Maladaptation.
It all started in 2013 when I decided to follow my childhood dream to become a writer. I knew it would be work, but I never thought that it would take me two years of toiling, crying, hope, and despair to get it out there.
When it finally happened, I was ecstatic – but nervous as hell. Would it be received well? Would it be raked through the muck? Would I become a laughingstock or a star?
“The day has finally arrived! It’s here! It’s available!” – me in a post entitled, “Release Day, Reviews, and Reading Ahead”
Reality Steps In
None of those things happened. My book was reviewed a few times – mostly by those I asked to review it – and these days, it’s sitting at a solid four-and-a-half stars on Amazon.
And, though I know it will probably never be a Top 100 book, I don’t care. It’s my baby, the darling that I never could call anything other than my favorite, and it’s out there for anyone to read.
It’s been two years and I’ve learned more about the craft of writing than I ever thought I could. I’m still learning, and I guess that’s the point of this whole thing. It’s why I’m still writing, toiling, and filling my head with more that I can spill out onto the page and use to create something great.