Self publishing is, as I have mentioned before, an adventure. With my first book, I blundered about blindingly, publishing on a wing and a prayer. Due to this fact, there were mistakes. Mistakes with editing, formatting, and even some technical mistakes within the book that I failed to catch. At the time it was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, like riding a horse flat out across an open field, mane whipping in the wind about your face. Hmmm, I can almost feel it now and I can't help but smile. I learned a tremendous amount along the way, and continue to do so every day. Each day that I work on my writing, in whatever capacity I do so, be it marketing or editing or actually writing, I learn and I love that. It is one of the things I find most endearing about writing and the whole process that surrounds it, including the publishing.
Now, I am on the brink of self publishing my second book. I have the ISBN numbers (which is a drama worthy in and off itself!) and the synopsis, the covers, and the websites from which I want to publish it. I even have a resource to have the books printed as well as publishing them as eBooks. Once again I find myself excited and frightened, about to leap off the cliff of having a work to myself and putting it out there for the world to enjoy (hopefully)! This time, however, I find another emotion swirling within me, impatience. While I wait for books to get uploaded and available for sale, printed copies to be printed and sent for approval, and links to become active, I find myself getting restless. It seems everything depends on something else to get done. I have to wait for the book to go live before actually announcing it. Before I announce it I would like to build a Facebook page for it, but I can't do that before a link is generated. I have so much more that I want to do for this book, which in turn will hopefully help sales of "A Convoluted Tale" as well. I am excited, but also impatient, nervous energy makes my leg bounce up and down as I write this. I am eager to get this book out, but cautious in that I don't hurry the process. I want everything to be just right, but I also want it done. I have new ideas flickering in the back of my mind like headlights in a rear view mirror, reminding me they are back there and are coming up fast, in their own type of hurry. Stories that are desirous to be told, and anxious that I get to it, also contribute to the crescendo of impatience I'm feeling.
Once again I am reminded, however, that writing is continually teaching me. The lesson of patience is one I have been trying to learn for most of my life, perhaps it took writing to teach it to me.