Send a Raven: Newsletter #13

Holy shit, I'm a published author.

Happy (post) May long weekend, Ravens!

Do Americans have May long weekend?? Now that I think of it, I don’t even know why Canadians have May long weekend, and with the whirlwind it has been trying to get my ducks in a row (or crows, rather) to release my debut novel, I don’t care. Because as of yesterday, I am officially a published author.

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Yes, you heard that right, folks. A Raven Among Crows #1 is officially available!

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And how the hell am I feeling about that? Great question…

Somehow, I’m feeling everything and nothing all at once; like I need to sit and stare at the wall, but also like I need to scream from the rooftops, which seems to be the theme this year…

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Let’s start with the basics, shall we?

How has the final part of the process been?

As much as I want to say it’s been stressful and overwhelming and more work than anticipated, it hasn’t. I mean, it has, but I’d fully anticipated a final push (maybe not 15 hour days, but you live and you learn). Thanks to my anxiety-induced mania, I’d done enough research about self-publishing and formatting months ago that I kind of knew what I was in for, so any kinks I had to work out were pretty simple.

What has surprised me the most?

The fact that I actually did it. After so many re-write attempts and concept revamps, the idea of actually completing one kind of just turned into a pipe-dream.

What did I learn?

Aside from everything I’ve spent the last year preaching about… That deadlines are now something that I can rely on to motivate me rather than hinder me (really, that I can rely on myself), and that everything will work out. Against all odds—a new relationship, a looming surgery, and a plethora of medical appointments—I got a majority of this book re-written, edited, and formatted in the time that it used to take me to simply read it. And as far as everything working out, all the things I was allowing to stand in my way are things that, by the end of it, are no longer even concerns (the page count, the inability to hold a copy of my own book, that people won’t accept me as an author, etc.)

What am I going to take away from this?

What I know I’m going to take away from this is to continue shamelessly putting myself, my work, and my truth out into the universe, because it is absolutely worth it. What I hope to take away from this, is to truly soak up the feeling of accomplishment the best I can. I want to feel proud, not relieved. I want to feel like I achieved something, not that I was obligated to complete it.

What’s next?

In the spirit of soaking up the feeling of accomplishment, I want to be careful not to move on too quickly. I plan on spending the next couple of weeks relaxing, working on getting paperbacks made, and slowly moving my monster of an outline into Scrivener for a more seamless planning/writing experience once I move onto book #2. I’m hoping that by keeping my toes in the ARAC universe, diving back into writing from scratch won’t be such a shock to my system after years of focusing solely on revisions, but there is absolutely a part of me that is nervous about falling back into old patterns. After that? You just have to keep your eyes peeled…

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I started out this year on a very intentional journey of discipline: figuring out what works for me, when I can push myself, and when I need to take a break. And though that journey has led me to the achievement of a goal that I viewed as unattainable for so many years, I still feel like I’m just beginning.

And it wasn’t until a conversation with my dear friend (and eternal grounding force)

Ara Zapanta

, that I was able to see just how far I’ve come…

ARAC was born from a place of grief, anger, and loneliness (but you know all about that); things that crippled me to a point of barely functioning as not only a friend, sister, and daughter, but as a human being. Discipline wasn’t even a word in my vocabulary, let alone something I would consider practicing.

The teenager I was back then wouldn’t have been able to do in a month what I now do in a week. The young adult I was a year ago would’ve ran from the challenges that I now tackle head-on. And the woman I am now does it all with a grace that would make any of those girls proud.

So, do things get better? Or do we get tougher? I don’t necessarily think it’s one or the other. Sometimes it’s both, sometimes it’s neither. Death provides something to be reborn, and in turn, something reborn promises to die.