Okay, I'm starting to get over the initial paralyzing fear I felt when I sent out my advance reader copies to a some folks I know. By and large, I no longer feel like a fraud. Except when I try to talk sports, of course.

I've gotten some really validating feedback on what I sent out! Yes, it is an imperfect piece of fiction, and there are a few issues with it that I'm going to be addressing before publication day, but any negative feedback has been relatively small when compared to the whole. How great is that!? I'm increasingly reaching a place where I can be proud of something that I think I have grounds to be proud of. If it was becoming evident to me that a year of hard work had produced the same thing that I can buy in any Farm and Fleet to fertilize my garden, I might be contemplating a cessation to all authorly efforts. I can gladly say that is not the case. I'm going to continue doing this. And there will be better books and worse books that I'll inevitably crank out, but in the big picture I think I've got the chops.

It's nice; feeling like what you're doing is the right thing for you. Too few of us get to feel that way, I think.

Everything's still on track for June 30th, I'm happy to say. There's still plenty of time to get things ironed out that need it, put together the final digital and physical formats, and order a physical proof to review for myself to make sure it doesn't look like butt.

Yep, everything's thumbs-up around here. I'm even wearing my comfy, swishy pants today!

Yesterday wasn't great. I think I almost died twice, both times in my car. First, an elderly woman pulled out in front of me while I was cruising down my personal Main Street, and I was forced to swing wide to avoid her Buick. Being the nice guy I am, I gave her a forgiving wave as I passed her front bumper. I felt kind of bad for her...I could tell she was rattled. Lucky for me I've got some razor-sharp stuntman skills behind the wheel. (Can't parallel park, though. That's hard.)

The second scenario of potential fiery auto death was while I was parked in a left turn lane, waiting for the arrow. It was a small intersection in the middle of my modestly populated town, and I'd navigated it many times. THIS time, a dude driving a beer truck came swinging in from my right, making his own left turn that would bring him by my front left headlight. I guess this guy was supremely confident of his beer-haulin' skills, because he didn't seem to slow down as he took the turn. The truck wasn't super long, but it was long enough that the rear of his trailer only missed me by like a foot or something, even though he took it wide to compensate. He didn't even look down to register my distress. Come on, man...I know you think you're Tom Cruise in a truck, in that Tom-Cruise-in-a-truck-movie-that-Tom-Cruise-never-actually-made, but you are no TOM CRUISE IN A TRUCK, OKAY?

Sheesh.

Anyway, at the end of the story I'm still kickin'. That's all I can ask for, I guess. Shutting up.

Back to work.

For me, writing is a pretty introspective process. Maybe that's obvious...I don't know...I only know how I do it. I'm not sure of the extent that I can, or should, speak to what makes good writing, but I've been thinking about it recently, and this is my blog so I can talk about whatever I want.

Man, I'm kind of bristly, today. Sorry. No, I'm not!

I'm of the belief that everyone who comes up with a story has something amazing sitting in their head. It doesn't really matter how complex or detailed that story might be; if someone has put at least a half-assed effort into creating it, and they are any manner of excited about it, then I have no doubt that it's incredible, and should be shared with everybody.

Stories are awesome in their primordial, raw form. I'm talking about that undulating, juicy ball that first rolls out of our internal creative matrices. It's more a feeling than a sequence of events...not so much a sophisticated web of characters and plot, but rather the emotional impact of such. If others could experience it in its purest incarnation, everyone would be infected by it and utterly subservient to the rolling mountain of its will.

Yet, there are a bajillion books written every year, and quite a few of them fall far short of their potential, in my opinion. I realize I'm saying this as a guy who's embarking on a first effort that is, as-yet, unproven, and that I could join the very ranks I'm talking about. Still, I think I understand the reason for awesome stories that ultimately emerge as mediocre books.

So what's the explanation? Why exactly do a lot of those stories fall into the suck-bucket?

I think it's the translation. If any message is translated poorly, then the essence is lost. We are forced to use this crude medium, the very one that you are absorbing as you read these words, to define and describe the soul of something that it has no chance to express with 100% efficiency. Maybe the very best novels are written to...what...85% efficiency of that original essence? Maybe 90% at the very best? Meanwhile, I suspect that even most moderately successful books float around the market, somewhere in the 40% or 50% range if they're lucky. I'm not saying they're crappy, really, just that they aren't as high of a percentage of that thing that lives inside the head of their creator as they could have been.

One day, I'm going to invent a neural interface that transfers 100% of the primordial form of a story over, make a billion dollars, and put every metaphor-loving, language-using author out of business. Until that glorious day comes, I guess I'll be content to shoot word-bullets at feely-targets like everyone else.

I sound like I'm disparaging language. I don't feel that way. Language is a beautiful tool, and wielding it is a stimulating, enthralling puzzle that we should keep twisting to push that efficiency metric up as high as we possibly can...to chase that horizon.

See what you did? You got me all contemplative. Don't you dare do that again, you hear? I have stuff to do.

Back to work.

P.S.  Do you guys think it's possible to practice running backward so much that you can get better at it than running forward?

Okay, I know I'm supposed to remain professional and “authorly” and all that stuff, but you'll have to excuse me of that whole business for a moment so that I can say HOLY CRAP, I've finally come to the end of my final edit on The Footsteps of Cain! That is to say, I've gone as far as I think I can fixing the stuff that wasn't working...logic issues, inconsistent formatting, emotional bolstering where important stuff was falling flat.... At this point any of the other extrospective things that my tunnel vision won't show me will have to be screamed at me from my ARC readers, the first eyes to see the book beyond my own.

I'm super-psyched, though. Can't believe I'm finally here. I've used the words, “yeah...still working on it...just need more time” as an answer to anybody who's ever asked me “how's the book going?” for so long, I'm sure they started to doubt that it would ever happen. Yeah, well, I'm shedding my fraud-skin today, you guys! Well, the first layer of it, anyway. I guess there could be deeper layers to my fraud...um...ness, that we'll all discover together as we go along.

Fraudness. Yeah. I've decided that's a word.

Yeah.

Now, we're on to formatting. Turns out that once you're done with the source document, it's important to actually massage it into a version that is visually appealing to a reader's FACE. I mean, I've been formatting it according to my own standards from a writing perspective, but now I need to make sure I have a tool to help me ensure that the print and ebook versions look like they're supposed to. Basically, I don't want to make potential readers' eyes explode when they open up the thing. My own, piercing intuition tells me that exploding eyes will NOT SELL BOOKS. The more reviews I can avoid that say “Made my eyes explode and now I can't see anymore. Would not buy again.”, the better.

So I'm researching some tools this morning, so that I can have something produced by the end of the week. Time's a-wastin', my curiously grizzled hillbilly brain is telling me, and so I gotta get this thing in the old outbox folder and shove it out into the world!

Life is great! I feel like I have the whole world in a headlock! But, not in a “I'm a bully and I'm taking your lunch money” kind of way...more like a “I'm a big strong matador and I'ma gonna wrastle this here bull to the ground, yo!”. (I don't know why my matador character is equal parts country AND urban, but it's MY CHARACTER, and I can do what I want.)

Okay...reigning it in, aaaaand...

Back to work.

Just got back from a physical therapy appointment, trying to toughen up the old Achilles a bit. The problem is, she keeps making me do things that actually make me work, and move my limbs and stuff. I was under the impression that the P in PT meant “petting” or “pie” or “pillow” or something like that. I envisioned myself flat on my back, eating complimentary comfort food, having my hair stroked, and being told that “everything will be alright”. Yeah. I think that kind of stuff would really help my Achilles. Hugs and donut holes. (By the by, I just found out that my spell checker didn't know the word “donut”. My disappointment has driven me to seek a new word processing solution.)

OOO! OOO! Psychosomatic Therapy! PT! I'm going to open up a clinic and bring patients in by promising them the power of the mind over the body. They won't have to do any actual work, and I can sell my motivational speaking audio series! “Come down to Derek's House of Happy Thoughts, where thinking you feel better is probably enough!” I'm totally writing that down in my “Derek's Rich Plans To Get Rich” notebook.

Was I saying something? No. I guess I'll do that now.

I sent the Big Word out yesterday concerning the June release. Hopefully those awesome people that signed up for the newsletter on the site have received a Super Special email informing them of this new post. Thank you guys so much for signing up! It's super gratifying to see interest in something that I've worked so hard to produce. I really do love doing this, now that I've persuaded myself that I can, in fact, do it. Stare out the window, daydream, and work at the same time? Windows are, like, my favorite things to stare out of! I've been doing it my entire life! I love that there's a career that exists where that matters on a resume!

I also wanted to say a word about the delay to June. Initially I had a February release in mind, but that was before I'd done the proper marketing research. As it turns out, you can't just write a book, throw it onto Amazon, and expect anybody to care. Evidently that's like taking a small pebble, chucking it into the ocean, and hoping some fish notice it.

(Derek, don't call the people “fish”. They don't like that. They won't want to read your book if you do stuff like that.)

(Oh. Right...good point.)

...I meant, hoping some really smart and good looking fish notice it!

(Nice save!)

So, I guess you actually have to reach out to people ahead of time, if you want to sell a book. I know! I was shocked too. As a result, I'm trying to take the smart road and get the word out before Publish Day. It's absolute torture to have to wait, but I'm a big boy and I can take it without an unreasonable excess of weeping. I mean, my body only has so much water in it...right? Right!

Thanks again, so much, to everybody who saw the site, or my Facebook author page, and chose to follow me on this frightening thing. It really means a lot. I'm sure other people have told you that something “means a lot” to them, but things mean four times as much to me as they do to other people, so, suffice to say, it's a pretty big deal for you guys. Everybody's a winner, here!

Back to work.

Alright! Being on the cusp of actually putting my work in front of others' eyes, I've officially entered into the “scared-shitless-of-rejection” phase! I did it, you guys! I'm a real author!

This is all quite a mind-job. To go from being fairly confident of a decent quality book when it's in front of me, to completely bereft of confidence when I'm away from it...well, it's undesirable, to say the least. I mean, if I was perpetually self-assured, then my state of mind would persevere regardless, right? Even if the book sucked, I'd at least be comforted inside my cocoon of narcissistic denial, and so everything would be great! RIGHT?

Sadly, having self-confidence is like grabbing at lemonade. Most of it slips through your fingers, but there's a sugary-sweet, sticky residue that doesn't completely go away. So that's...good?

That was weird...I don't even really like lemonade.

I guess doubt is a pretty good anchor for grounding someone, no matter how unpleasant it might be. It's hard to imagine reaching a level doing this were doubt becomes a thing of the past. Every new endeavor is brand new—unique, as per the ideal nature of creation—and so how does anyone become fully confident of something that's never before seen the light of day?

Each story is different, probably derived in some part from somewhere else but still unique in its own way. Each one a string of symbols thousands long...letters and numbers and punctuation...all linked in such a fashion that renders it utterly original, at least from a perspective of the bare sequence. The story or characters might be similar to others, but no one on the planet has ever put all those symbols in that very same order, and so in that regard the work is unlike any other.

Kind of like a person. Unique.

It freaks me out, thinking like that. I know I shouldn't. It makes the gulf of error a wide one. It evokes a feeling of utter loneliness, like a single explorer out in uncharted lands, and it's scary as hell. So, I guess I'll just stop thinking like that. Y'know, because changing oneself is that easy.

One hundred manuscript pages to go on what I'll call my final edit. This word-bun in this word-oven is getting all nice and toasty. I'm putting together my list of ARC candidates, and very soon I'll be formatting and distributing the ARCs themselves. Haven't nailed down a final publish date yet, but I think we're looking at late June.

Life is terrifying.

Back to work.