The fact that I published my ebook Finding Faith, Finding Safe, Finding Potatoes a year ago last June astounds me. How could an entire year go by so fast without having produced at least a 1st draft for full-length book number two? I expected that by now–eleven years after starting the book–I would have signed with a literary agent, wrapped my hands around a printed book with my name on it, gotten carpel tunnel at the dozens of book signings my publicist coordinated, along with an aggressive speaking schedule from sea to shining sea where I would win the hearts of my fans and inspire America to healthy faith.
I have written perhaps three query letters this past year. At least I could have been self marketing my book, but even that effort has fallen to the wayside. I’m like many other writers. We write but we don’t market our writing. But in this day and age we must.
After reaching the momentous goal of publishing my ebook, I was emotionally pooped. Spent. Exhausted. Non-cerebral activities seemed more inviting–gardening, watching reality shows on television,reading other people’s books, cleaning house, dog whispering, and sleeping as late as my body demanded.
I am allowing myself to transition organically into the non-writing phase of my life. I accept that I am just one more wanna-be-successful author looking for an audience. I am talented but not the most talented. I write well, but I’m not the best. Many people have read my book, but more have not. I am not the most popular, the most celebrated, the most sold, but I am the most me.
Nobody can do Marsha like I do Marsha. Profound, isn’t it?