On my last blog, I had given my latest attempt at writing to my husband. An avid reader, he gets the first look at my work. If he likes it, I celebrate. If he doesn’t, well, been there, don’t think much of it.
He took his laptop into the living room, sat on his favourite chair, and began reading. Being the good, patient wife I can be, not, I bit my bottom lip and left the room. I went to the lower level of our home to watch some television. All was quiet on the upper floor. A half-hour later I couldn’t help but think, is he still reading or did he get bored. Is he surfing the net? An hour and a half later, I couldn’t wait any longer. I slowly crept up the stairs, ever so quietly, listening for signs of movement. I almost made it. Almost.
Woof.
“It’s just you’re mom,” hubby lectured the dog. “She’s being silly.”
I stepped into the kitchen and looked toward the living room. The dog was curled up on the couch, her chin rose as she looked toward me. Hubby was still sitting on his chair. He hadn’t moved. It’s a good thing it’s comfortable or he’d have pins and needles in his butt.
“Well?” I asked. “Are you still reading it?”
He looked up from his computer. “Yes–”
“What do you think of it?” I knew he wouldn’t be done the entire book, yet. “I like it, so far.”
“Hallelujah!” I bellowed silently. “Yes.”
He was only ¼ of the way through the book. He had a long way to go but it was like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders.
I watched a documentary on the band The Eagles a little while ago. One of the artists discussed handing lyrics and music to the rest of the band and the awful feeling in the gut. Will they like it?
I supposed all artists experience the same anxiety.
Anyway, when hubby finished the book, he gave me the thumbs up. Now we have to work on editing it. He’ll point out the silly mistakes that I have made. The type that an author simply misses. He will make suggestions and I will rewrite sections. This isn’t a short process but I want it to be the best it can be before, well before I cross my fingers yet again.
The next step isn’t any easier. Anxiety round 2. Finding a publisher… Publishers reject a lot of manuscripts. As an author, I look through their website and try to get a feel for the company. I search for reviews of the company. I want a publisher that will market my books in places I’m not capable of reaching on my own. I don’t want a publisher that will be looking for a new manuscript every three to six months. I don’t need or want that kind of stress in my life.
Sounds fun, doesn’t it! Not!
