I wrote a book. There. I said it. I've officially outed myself from the author's closet. I'm a writer and I'm not ashamed! *whew* That was harder than I thought it would be.
So why all the secrecy, you might ask? It's a bit more complex in my head than it will actually appear as I completely out myself. I've always had interesting stories in my head that I would have loved to jot down on paper. I tried a few times, but never got very far. A year or two ago I was throwing around an idea that I had tinkered with right out of college. The story grew in my mind and eventually consumed my waking (and sometimes sleeping) thoughts. After countless nights of staying up until 2:00 in the morning, I had in my hand, a completed book. Needless to say, I've been hesitant to shout out my accomplishment to the world. Oh heck, I was as proud as a peacock. The main problem with telling anyone about this little hobby is this: You walk up to someone and say, "Hey guess what? I wrote a book." Responses may vary, but in the most part the reactions go one of two ways. First, you have the typical doting family member or friend with delusions of grandeur. These people (mostly family I've found) are quick to put you on a pedestal and project their own dreams of fame and fortune upon you. In their eyes, the book could never fail and will inevitably become the next 'big one' of our time. They assume you'll be the next J.K. Rowling. These people, though filled with good intent, are your delusional supporters. Secondly, you have the more realistic but severely disappointing response. They roll their eyes and assume you are just another drone in the masses who actually thinks they can write. They assume, in actuality, that you are just as good a writer as you are a trapeze artist. (This is of course, unless you actually are a trapeze artist.) They don't take you seriously at all. These people are your skeptics. Oh sure, there are those in between the lines, muddled into the shades of gray. These are the ones that I call 'polite'. They don't knock your book, but they don't build it up too. I prefer the shades of gray.
Here's the truth. I've been researching the publishing world. It's a mad, crazy world where caution is thrown into the wind one day and dreams are crushed into a fine pulp the next. It's a vicious cycle of blindly putting yourself out there only to be kicked out the door into the mud while doing so. I have been attempting to get an agent and let me just tell you that each denial letter you get is equally frustrating and increasingly disappointing. Do I believe I will get published? I'd like to say yes right now. And if I had my trusty golden protocol droid standing here he'd say:
I can't help but to hope that Threepio is wrong. But the deeper I dig into the writing community, the more I fear my dear golden buddy here is right. Sorry about the Star Wars reference. Writer or not, I'm still just a geek. For now, I'll leave you to chew on my unexpected announcement. Whether your rolling your eyes or signing up for my fantasy fan club, I hope you wish me luck. I'm not looking for fame and fortune. I'm just hoping for a partial manuscript request. If fame and fortune follow, I'm probably dreaming.
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