I worked nonstop this weekend and made all the edits to the book suggested by the editor person. In a little while I’ll print out the revised fourth draft. Because of the brief turnaround time it doesn’t feel like a full revision cycle, so I’m calling this go round the fourth draft, version two. Tonight I’ll drop the pages off at the editor person’s place and hope for the best. They promised a one week turnaround. That means I have some dead time, so I’ll probably add some more content to the site and finish up the outline for the second book. And blog.
I’m very happy about the last round of changes. At the same time, I’m well, terrified. This is almost it with the edits, showtime is coming fast. I gotta get ready to let my baby fly out there and mingle amongst the wolves. My love affair with the possibilities of what the book could be, must end. Whatever it is next week, is how it is. I have to move on to the next step.
The possibility of rejection is starting to feel pretty real. It’s on the horizon. When it comes down to it, writing a book is one of the few things you can do with such megalomaniacal overtones. The bet the writer makes is that someone will care about their book, but until they submit it and find out, they’re a minority of one. It’s a pretty isolating feeling. Really isolating. Still something pushes the writer to submit. What else could that be but some latent streak of megalomania or masochism? Of course they want my book! Yes, my chances of success are 100 percent. Law of averages? Doesn’t apply to me. I’m exempt you see. So like every writer who has ever tried to sell a book probably has done, I too must reassure myself. Anyway, I need to get my daily dose of caffeine…