Nervousness

     Hello, anyone and everyone who runs across my blog. Today feels like it’s going to be a really good day. I just finished up with a brand new book, and I haven’t reread it to see how many errors are in it yet, but I think it’s going to go along nicely with my “Wrong” book series. It’s sort of a prequel but not really, if that makes any sense. I guess you could say that everything I write about in the past relates to the present, so it doesn’t feel like a prequel, even though that’s basically what it is. I’m getting excited and ahead of myself, though. After all, I haven’t even released my first three books in the “Wrong” series yet. I’m really excited to see what people will think of what I’ve done on June 21st. Honestly, I’m also a little scared, too. Writing a book is like a lot of different things, I would imagine. I would compare writing a book to a musician who writes an album that he or she puts all of their self into. It’s a story, and yes, it’s supposed to be designed to sell, but to the person who did it, it’s so much more. There are parts of that person sprinkled all throughout their album or book. When someone accepts their work, it’s like a weight has been lifted off of that individual. Their work has been justified, but in a way, who they are at their core has been, too. When someone rejects that work, however, you feel as if someone is rejecting you in the most intimate way possible. It’s like standing naked in front of a crowd. Are they going to accept you or ridicule you? Maybe my fear of being rejected is a little illogical. It’s not like anyone can truly tell me my worth or the worth of my books, after all, but that’s just how I feel. I want this to succeed, but not for money or for some kind of recognition. I just want to know that one of the only things I consider to be beautiful inside me is for other people what it is for me. I’m not stupid. Some people aren’t going to like it no matter what kind of quality it is. Everyone’s opinion differs, but still, I want to know that most people who take the time to read my books do enjoy them. In a way, I need that vindication as a person. I’ve always been more of a person who liked to think rather than do. I’ve dreamed rather than been what most people call realistic for most of my life. Those thoughts and dreams have now materialized into something very real. A part of me wants to know that it all means something good, and that who I am at my core fits into this world because I can’t turn that part of myself off. It’s simply who I am. If this doesn’t work, I’ll still continue to write and dream bigger and bigger dreams. Will it be stupid? To some, I suppose it will. Does any of that matter? No, it doesn’t. This is who I am in my soul of souls. Whether you believe that our personalities are a result of a bunch of chemical reactions, or you believe like I do that God made me exactly who I am, and that’s who I’ll always be, it doesn’t matter because deep down I think we all know there are some things we just can’t turn off. Some people may be natural born caregivers and others may be naturally athletic or artistic, but we’re all something that we don’t know why we are, but we just are. This is just me with my heart on my sleeve, and I need this to work out. Am I nervous? Yes, I’m beyond nervous. Am I excited? Yes, this is the first thing I’ve ever pursued with everything I have in me. Will it all come together, or will I look like a fool? I wish I could answer that now for my own sake, but at the end of the day it probably doesn’t matter. I wrote six stories in the time it takes most people to write one to two books. That’s something to be proud of, and even more than that, I have to look at the effect these books have had on me. I honestly believe the Wrong series may have saved my life. I based every character in that book series on a different part of my psyche. Strangely … as some of them healed, so did I. The Wrong series isn’t over, and it probably won’t be complete for quite some time. I still have some healing to do, after all. It’s a strange thing. I never read much when I was younger, and still to this day I only find certain authors interesting, but I never knew where a simple book could take me. I never thought I had anything good inside of me, but this proves that wrong. When I started writing back in January, I dreamed that something would come out of me that could turn into a career or at least make a little money on the side. I never dreamed that what I wrote would give me hope and a reason to go on.

     Wow, I didn’t realize how long I had been rambling on about this. I swore when I started this blog that I wouldn’t end up making it solely about my books, but today it can’t be helped. Today I’m tired, and I haven’t even been working that long. I have a ton more to do, and if I were doing anything else that took up this much time, I would probably hate my life right now. For the last few weeks, I’ve literally been putting in ten and twelve hour days every day. I don’t even take weekends off. It’s hard, and it’s stressful, but the reward I’ve gotten out of this makes every part of it worth it. Here’s to hoping that I get out of releasing these books half of what I’ve already gotten out them now.