I finally finished the first draft of Behind the Red Curtain, and I don’t really know how to feel. As soon as I typed the last words, I got depressed, and still haven’t recovered from that. I feel more pressure with this book than the first, mostly due to it being real now. The first time was an accomplishment, now it’s my job. If I don’t impress, will I have to fire myself?
I really don’t have a clue if the story is any good. I am sending it out to alpha readers, so I guess I’ll get some good feedback, but right now it’s a complete and total mystery. There are definitely some strong elements in there, but whether they come together as a whole – who knows.
I want to feel that elation again. The bright glow of accomplishment that makes me walk on my toes, but instead I feel a sense of dread. Impending doom. Like at any moment, I am going to find out that I am a hack. Lindsay is great obviously, and she seems to like it, but what about the rest of the world – or the itsy bitsy piece that I claim?
I doubt this feeling is going to subside until I get some feedback, which means I’ll have a couple more weeks of it. On top of that, I am going to have to tell someone who was very nicely coming up with cover designs for me, that I am going to go with my own. I hate telling people that all the work they did for my benefit was for nothing. Fucking guilt man.
My IndieGoGo campaign finished up, and people are generous, beautiful, and wonderful. When the funds come in, I have a whole plan of marketing and such to execute. I will also be completely overhauling this website. It’s gonna be puuurty.
I’m out. Things to do. Stay gold pony boy.
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