Six months ago, I opened up my laptop and began to write. It was the day after my birthday, only nine days into the new year, and I was determined as hell. “This year,” I told myself, “is the year I’m going to write the novel I’ve wanted to write for as long as I can remember. This year,” I said to myself, “I’m going to write the book that’s going to change me as a writer.”
Six months ago, I made a pact with nobody but me. And I don’t break the promises I make to myself. Ever.
I’ve gone through the last couple of months of my life with nothing but June 1st in my sights. I’ve been on a single track, blinders on, determined to get to a destination that, six months ago, I didn’t even know existed. See, when I sat down to write Seed in January, I had no idea I’d be able to publish it myself. Since then, I’ve become an expert at a lot of things: e-publishing, self-promotion and marketing, blogging, hell… twitter. The road has been quick, but long all at once. Six months isn’t that much time, but it’s long enough to exhaust you if you’re moving non-stop. And I’ve been moving non-stop.
So what now? A little R&R? Maybe a vacation? No sir. I’ll be celebrating the release of Seed by pounding out the first few pages of my next novel. My deadline: the end of August. My hope: to publish two books this year… to publish, and to take another step toward (hopefully) making a living off of what I love to do most.
Will I be an overnight success? Probably not. Sure, I’ve fantasized about it. I’ve thought about waking up one morning to see myself at the top of the horror list, right there next to my buddy Steve. I’ve whispered to myself, “if Amanda can make it in paranormal romance, I can make it in horror…” And maybe I can. Maybe, just maybe… I’ll be that one lucky author that makes a splash others can only dream of. But I’m not betting on it. I’m not a gamblin’ girl.
What I am betting on is another first-draft sprint. I’m betting on nights where I sit in bed with my laptop and think “screw this, I’m going to bed”. I’m betting that on a handful of occasions, I’ll think myself a lunatic for trying to write and publish two books in a single year, single-handedly, like some sort of tireless magician.
And then the end of August will roll around. I’ll finish that first draft. And it’ll be awesome.
June 1st is a week away. Will I wake up to fame and fortune? I doubt it. Then again… maybe on June 1st of next year, or the year after that… I will.