Just Blog

Coming from an extremely busy end of the week last week, today and yesterday have been rather uneventful.

Other than the passing of another year, my life hasn't strayed far from this couch.

Ok, and that's not entirely true. Every once in a while, I will panic about starting labor, jump up and clean something, but as soon as that project is finished I find myself right back here, nestled into the soft suede, feet elevated and wrapped snugly in a blanket.

I can't help it. I'm tired.

And uncomfortable.

And irritable.

Way too irritable for the health and well being of my poor little family.

However, during my couch-confinement I have been reading up on signs of pre-term labor and discovered that irritability happens to be one of them.

Or just a sign that I am as big as a house, completely exhausted and never, ever, ever going to have this baby.

And then somebody will say something to me like this, "Well, you're due date isn't even until the 19th, you just need to relax. The baby will come when he's ready."

In fact, I find that soooo irritating that the next person who tries anything even remotely close to that will probably get punched in the face.

It's easy for you, person who isn't pregnant, person who gets to sleep through the night, person who can walk rather than waddle, person who doesn't have to pee every fifteen minutes, person who can see their feet and recognize them, person who is irritating the begeezus out of me to command that I'm calm, cool and collected for another two and a half weeks.

Sure. Fine.

But for me, I imagine two and a half more weeks and get physically ill. All I want is a giant bottle of wine, some sushi and to go to sleep laying on my stomach! Is that so much to ask?????

I warned you I was grumpy.

But another thing I've been contemplating here in my isolation of comfort and warmth is whether or not to publish the book I have written on Kindle.

That's right. Imagine that. And aspiring author with a blog. I'm a walking cliche.

But the fact is, I wrote this book. I think its good. I've gotten really great feedback, but can't seem to find an agent willing to find a publisher willing to publish me.

I've been trying for about a year, although I just recently had the darn thing edited to my standards and am in the process of the final tweak. Breaking into the World of Literature is just like anything other huge industry: It doesn't happen very often. Just like acting and singing the easy part is in the talent and the hard part is finding someone else who believes you have said talent.

Writing the book, which is actually longer and more complicated than anything I thought I had in me, was the piece of cake part. And it wasn't really cake.

Now, as I search and research and write letter after letter describing what is quickly becoming a POS in my mind as I get more and more discouraged, I'm opening up my mind to the possibilities of alternative publishing.

In this world, this digital, technically savvy world, Books are on their way to the same place music has gone. Sure, it's going to take longer and most people will still enjoy a piece of paper in their hand often, but the inexpensiveness and ease of a hand-held digital copy that's ready to download at a moments notice has its appeal. Just like iTunes.

Personally, unrelated to my own publishing aspirations, I am DYING to own a Kindle, to download their three dollar books and be able to take an entire library with me wherever I go without weighing down the already ridiculous Mary Poppins Purse known to others as my Diaper Bag.

The real question is: Do I accept that I may not hack it in the traditional publishing world and take a leap of faith towards the one step above paying thousands to self-publish a book in print?

I started this journey with such hope and naivety the saddest part of all is watching the optimistic-first-time-author part of me wither into the now skeptical and realistic wannabe writer that keeps a blog and edits a manuscript that nobody reads.

Geesh. That sounded depressing.

I'm just saying, what was once the belief that as long as you could write a book, you would make millions and share your story with the world is now the realistic truth that this is freaking hard and busy literary agents that have their minds solely on dollar bills and year end profits could care less about the stay at home mom from the middle of America with big dreams and an even bigger heart.

See my point?

So. What does Kindle mean?

I'm afraid what it means the most is that I'm giving up my dream and settling on the easier alternative rather than fighting for the bigger than life dream I've had since I wrote my first screen play in fourth grade. (No joke. It was a sequel to Alice in Wonderland and I made the neighborhood kids make props, find costumes and perform it for me while I played director. I know you're super jealous you didn't grow up on my street right now, aren't you?)

But is that really true? Am I giving up on my dreams? Or am I taking the proverbial bull by the horns, aka this digital age and trying a different approach, something modern and current?

I can't decide.

Truthfully it feels like failure. But how can it be failure when I've yet to really try?

No literary agent has read the manuscript, laughed in my face and lit the thing on fire....... yet. I've simply been unable to get past the preliminary letter writing phase. Which doesn't necessarily mean I never will, I've sent out dozens, but all it takes is one letter, one agent, one deal. Lots and lots of successful writers take years to get published and rarely are they as young as I am to start out.

So maybe at the root of this all is simply the fear of failure.

If I have not only an agent, but a publishing house behind my book there is a net of safety reminding me that somebody does believe in my story, I have the support of the industry and I've probably already been paid something. Even if I don't actually sell a single copy of the book.

If I self-publish, then its all me baby. No net. No support.No guaranteed money. Just my belief in the story and my precious characters and the unknown Kindle Universe who will decide whether or not to read and how to critique my dear work of fiction.

Is that really what I'm so afraid of?

I think its actually a more simple fear. I'm afraid of anyone reading the dang thing. Sure, the goal is to be that next rising star of the Young Adult World, but in truth, I can't even bring myself to let Zach look over a few pages, let alone the majority of other people I know. Two people have read the story and liked it. 2. Two of the billions of people inhabiting this world. It's not like I've got strong percentage points in my corner.

I've been tempted to post chapters at a time on here. Just to get feedback, but could never bring myself to really push the post button.

And where is the point where I shoot myself in the foot and officially lose the ability to become publishable?

Sorry to unload every wandering thought in my confused and muddled half brain on you today, but I need some feedback.


I have to take some careful steps before I for sure decide on the Kindle Path or not. And until those steps are finished I suppose I'll keep sending out email after email petitioning those Door-Keepers of Fate to read what I believe is a fantastic story.

Maybe it is time to just Man-Up though, so to speak. Grow some cojones, some big ones and get over myself or the fear of people thinking I'm ridiculous, and put myself out there. I highly doubt anyone successful simply sat back, hiding their work, sending it out in private, praying secretly they be discovered.

Oh no. Success is much more brazen than that.

Ok, New Years Resolution Time. Its time to get over myself. More importantly what people think of me and do this thing.

I don't really know what that means. Maybe I'll start by posting some chapters on here. Maybe it means if you want to read it, I'll let you. Maybe it means giving it to Zach. (haha.)

The truth is, I can't stop with this blog. I'm no Pioneer Woman. And I'd rather be known for my book than my blog. So here I go world. Watch out. Because I don't even know what I'm going to do next!


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