For the last three weeks I have carried around a draft copy of my book. It has accompanied me on car rides, sat underneath my desk in my office and in the entry way of my house. Never forgetting it is with me but silently scared to look at it again. To be critical of my work, to second guess and to wonder if this is a mistake. These were a few reasons I was avoiding this small but mighty book baby.
It feels weird. In a good way. To know my words, the idea and this brain of mine brought something to life. It’s filled with grit and courage. Like my daughter. Perhaps that’s why this book I thought would be a book written after many others is my first book. Written at a time it is needed most and for many.
We are a few weeks out from launch and I must say I am nervous as heck. Sure it’s been fun writing it and a lot of hard work, tears and blood have gone into it. Yes, literally blood. Picking at my nails while I anxiously critique every word, every design or page that has been written. I’ve picked. That stopped because my manicures cannot look as much of a hot mess as my mind is when I am being hard on myself.
What I realized last night in the midst of fully accepting my book baby as is, is that it is an accomplishment no matter what. This is my work, my goals and my dreams coming to life. And, there will be more things written because that’s where I often feel the most alive. Writing.
Until then… I' am happily carrying around my book baby without contractions. :)