“Aren’t you excited?” I keep getting asked.
They’re talking about my book, naturally; a three-dimensional object with a cover and an ending and lovely words in between.
Yet to me and most other writers who wrestle with their own projects, their dragons who refuse to sleep in the dungeons of their subconscious, it is so much more than a story – it is a narrative.
Considering I did my thesis (partially) on the subconscious power of the narrative as it drives the author and the reader this shouldn’t come as any surprise to me. Yet it continues to do so, full-fold.
It’s slightly hidden on the fence in my header, but there’s a quote by Doctorow about Narrative. Narrative is the force which makes us sigh as we shut our favourite books, wishing that it could continue indefinitely; we mourn the loss of that magic cloud which hangs over our heads as we escape into different worlds. I have this cloud when I read; I also have it when I write. I also have it at the movies. Anytime I fall like Alice into a new Wonderland.
I wouldn’t be without it; for I truly believe my life would not be living otherwise.
This might all point to explaning my need to want to have this text published, and why I do not feel like I can wait any longer for the larger publishing houses to sit up and notice.
Cynics and realists here – especially those familiar with the publishing industry, even more so than I am – will possibly shake their heads at this point and use such words as ‘folly’, ‘ridiculous’, ‘foolhardy’ to describe my endeavour and that is their right, I guess, but at no point will I let such sentiments poison my spirit. There is a danger when considering the business side of the project, duly granted, but there is so much more to consider at the same time.
Although I have been stressed this week, I have also felt more…vocationally satisfied than I have for a long time. Something, a hunch, is telling me that I have made the right choice; that it will all be okay.
Which is enough to get me through.
Because, technically, to be in the stores by Christmas, I have to sign on the dotted line for the printing company by the end of March. And I don’t know if you’ve realised, like I just have, that its freaking FEBRUARY already.
Once I’ve signed, its past the point of no return.
And that is a sobering thought.
But I have faith.
I think.
Gah! Who am I fooling?!
It’s terrifying!
