I project that I am going to be finished writing my first draft by the end of the month, and I am so excited. I was really feeling it yesterday, as I was approaching the 67K word count, and for the first time since I started writing either of my stories, I felt a true sense of hope. I’m doing this. It’s happening. It’s real. Nanci Behseresht is almost finished building the chrysalis around her, and later, when she breaks out of it and spreads her wings, she will be Chanel O’Hara. Right now, however, I’m still an ugly caterpillar. But a happy, auspicious caterpillar.
Of course, I know it’s still a long time before I get to publish it. I’m going to have to sit on it for a month, then begin editing the damn thing. From what I’ve read from other authors, this part of the process is not so much fun. Re-reading my own story, pretending I’ve never read it before sounds okay from a reader’s standpoint, but then when I read something that sucks, I’m going to cringe and then berate myself for writing something so stupid, or cheesy, or whatever adjective pops into my mind at that moment. This will be me in my cramped confines, going through my transitional state. It’ll be gross. It’ll be brutal. It might even kill me.
If I survive my own editing ordeal, I am going to have to hire an editor to read it. I already have her in mind and she is a great writer herself. It’s good because she’ll be a subjective person giving me valuable feedback about character development, story arcs, and plot, as well as them finding all the grammar and auto-corrects that my spell check misses. I don’t misspell words. I can’t. Auto-correct, however, makes my life miserable by changing words. Anyway, she will hand me back a copy of my work – or email – and it will be full of red marks. I’m going to no doubt have a sheepish look in my face while I go over my edited manuscript, and be thinking things like, ‘how the fuck did I miss that?’, ‘oh my God, I actually wrote that?’, and ‘how embarrassing!’ Then, I’ll get down to business, fixing what needs to be fixed, enduring my confines, which will then be feeling cramped, but I’ll be a step closer to getting the hell out of my prison. Like William DuBois said, “a budding writer could not emerge from his chrysalis too soon.” Well, I’m a her, but you get the picture.
When I am finished polishing the damn thing up to a high gloss shine, I will be ready to start working my way out of my shell. I will be just about ready to put it onto CreateSpace. Super exciting stuff, because I get to create a publishing name – which I already have – because I will be a publishing, and therefore becoming a publisher, as well as an author. This will open up even more doors, as I could publish other authors under my publishing name, and help other upcoming writers fulfill their dreams.
Before I put it on CreateSpace, though, I am going to have my trusty girls read it again and get their last minute opinions. Maybe even send a few copies to volunteer readers for honest reviews. I need to be doubly, triply sure it’s good before I put my name on it and send it into the world. I’m even going to post something on here asking for volunteers, so if you like crime romance, keep that in mind. While I wait, I will be slipping out of the shredded remains of what was once my protective layer, and working on spreading my wings. Once I am satisfied with those opinions, I’m going to publish it, and unleash my story into the universe.