When I finished writing “the book” in December of 2013, I knew it would be the first of my novels that I would publish. The other four, written between 2009 and 2012, would sit on the shelf and await their turn. “High-lariously,” I had thought those turns would come sometime over the subsequent three years, but here it is nearing the end of 2016, and I’m not even done with the final draft of book one.
In January, when I threw myself headlong into this publishing thing, I anticipated a summer publication date. Then I hoped for fall, but that’s not happening, either. And for weeks I’ve been really stressed out about that–so much so that my productivity did a bit of a nosedive. Progress has been gummy at best, and “non” at worst, but today I decided to stop worrying about it, because here’s what I know:
I have written a book, I am currently editing the book, and at some point in the not-too-distant future, I will publish the book. It may be late fall, it may be late winter, it might even be spring–all that matters is that I get there eventually and that I’m happy with the finished product. So, I’m still here, still working, and still have every intention of making this happen, but I’m going to do it without unreasonable expectations.