Writing a book is hard work, and it is fun, and frustrating, and…so many things. For alot of authors, writing the book isn’t the hard part. My book started life as a thesis for a Graduate Diploma, and my mentor suggested it would be worthwhile giving it to a publisher to look at: it fell into a niche, as more and more people were looking at small degrees of self sufficiency. Writing it was a pleasure (I got an HD!). I compiled a list of publishers and sent the manuscript off to the first one on my list, and he wanted it!
It wasn’t about what the book was, I think, but about what the manuscript wasn’t. It wasn’t a large, heavy text or a holier- than-thou-how-to. It was a small easy to read, self deprecating tome that hopefully encouraged people to leave their comfort zones and try to do something they had no experience of. That was two years ago. Then came the editing, the agonising and letting it go. Not as much fun, let me tell you. A year ago, it was published and launched. The first print run sold out in 5 months! Very cool – but the agony of marketing, of letting people read it – wanting to know their thoughts and NOT wanting to know, at exactly the same time was excruciating. Remember those dreams you had as a kid where you go to school and realise that you forgot to put your undies on? Scarier than that. It turns out, writers are not thick skinned. They want to be, they try to be. They SO aren’t.
Writers write. Some publish and chat on telly and do book tours, but generally that isn’t what writers do. Writers write and can often feel quite uncomfortable doing anything else that brings into question the work they have written. That’s why it is so overwhelmingly wonderful when somebody does a real book report, publically, like Voice of the Turtle, that I feel all bashful and a bit teary. Writers are soppy and awkward and weird too.
Just so you know.