I’ve always been a careful person, but never nit-picky enough to qualify as a “perfectionist.” I’m not neat. I’m not organized. I’m convinced that if the mess in my bedroom can make itself, it should be able to clean itself up as well. However, I’ve always been confident in my ability to do quality work, and especially in my ability to write (That being said, I really hope this post is grammatically correct or I might be something of a joke). I was always eager for teachers and professors to read my term papers and essays, because I knew I had done a good job.
I am really, really, really excited for people to read Cemetery Tours. I’m confident in my book, my story, my characters, all of it. I was a little nervous when my teacher and my friend read it, but having passed the test as far as both of them are concerned, I’m ready to share it with the world. I like it, and I really think readers will like it, too. I wouldn’t be talking about it so much if I didn’t! Trust me, I do not like being embarrassed. I’d rather be in some kind of physical pain than be embarrassed. And there are things that I’ve written that, yes, if they got out, I would be SO embarrassed. Fortunately, Cemetery Tours is not one of them. I am really, really proud of my book.
Turning the final version into my printing company, however, was probably one of the most nerve-wracking things I’ve ever done in my life. I just know that something’s going to be wrong with it, even though my editor edited it and my high school literature/English/grammar teacher edited it and my genius author/valedictorian/Summa Cum Laude/double major/law doctorate friend edited it and I myself read it through about a hundred bajillion million times. I am still convinced that something is going to be wrong.
Apparently, this is normal. All independent authors and publishers have talked about “polishing that manuscript.” Well, this one has been polished, painted gold, spit-shined, and then polished again. Still, there are no guarantees that there’s nothing wrong. We are human, and to err is, unfortunately, human. But I can’t edit forever. No one can. At some point, you have to take the editor’s cap off and replace it with the publisher’s bowler hat (For the record, I’m not sure publishers actually wear bowler hats). You’ll never be able to move forward if you’re always second guessing not only yourself and your own abilities, but those around you whom you’ve trusted with one of the most personal and precious things to an author; your manuscript. I never, ever thought I’d let anyone read something so personal. If I was willing to take that step, I have to take the next and trust, once and for all, that Cemetery Tours is good enough and it is ready to be shared. That goes for all manuscripts out there being primped for publication.
This is the home stretch, y’all. I’ve been waiting for it for so long, and I can’t believe it’s finally here. Thank you all for your support. Please say a prayer, not only for me, but for all the indies out there. We don’t ask for much. As hokey as it sounds, we’re just trying to make our dreams come true.
I’m finally ready.
A Platform of Sorts 