I’m writing this when I should be wrapping up the final edits of my novel. I’m not wrapping up the final edits of my novel because I’m easily distracted, always on the lookout for a ready diversion. I’m writing this because this is one of those diversions at the ready, ready to save me from the brutality of having to read through my novel–AGAIN. I’m working on the third revision and my fourth draft of a story that I’ve been mulling over for many, many years. I’m at the point now where the more I read over it, the worse it gets.
I probably could get away with blaming all my self-doubting and editorial suffering on the emotional prednisone roller coaster I’m on. I don’t remember ever feeling like this about the story before I began polluting myself with drugs. But the better place to lay the blame would be on the fact that the release date is nigh.
This probably is not the confession I should be making two days before I am supposed to be releasing the story. I guess that’s one of the beauties of being an “indie publisher” (This is the term that I’m starting to see more and more in place of self-publisher…I guess it’s because there’s too much of stigma attached to self-publishing.) Going indie holds me accountable only to myself and any potential reader. If I don’t make a deadline, I only have myself to blame. The chain of command begins and ends with me. It’s up to me whether to put myself on report, or not.
Okay, enough with the bellyaching.
Enough with the diversion.
Back to the pain.
See you on the 19th…I hope. [Unfortunately, the book release has been delayed; but, hopefully, not for too long ~ kurt]