Last night, as my fellow writers and I celebrated the end of our romance-writing class as we know it, my thoughts turned towards my post-editing prospects.
I already know that I’m taking a huge, huge risk with my attempt to self-publish this manuscript; nothing scares me more than the prospect of not being able to afford the publishing costs. I’ve already taken a risk with getting an editor to read my work, with no real guarantee of compensation other than a profit-sharing agreement. Just looking at my prospects on CreateSpace scares the crap out of me.
And don’t even get me started on the query-letter process. I know I’m going to do it. I’m getting there.
Then there’s the matter of a second book, which… well, I know I want to do it (poor, pitiful Paul Carreon, is all I’m going to say) but I don’t know if I would still have it in me to write it, knowing that I have two more years left of residency in the PhD program. What used to be so logical to me – writing fiction alongside my doctoral work – now fills me with “what-if” questions that often end up leading to me questioning my worth and my credibility.
The biggest question right now in my heart isn’t “What next?” but “Should I do it?”
I know, I know – I should take this one day at a time, as it should be. I’m just worried that all of the mistakes that I’m going to make from here are going to cost me.
What do you think?