After six months, I am still waiting for my some of my readers to return critiques of my book. Out of about 12 people who willingly agreed to read and comment, I’ve received comments from five. Though, I’m disappointed that more have not responded, I want to thank those five for taking the time and giving me much appreciated feedback.
This disappointing lack of response brings me to another writing reality: Unless one is a successful author with readers waiting in line for a next book, finishing a manuscript is simply not a big deal. At least, it is not as big a deal to those friends and family and neighbors who know that you are writing a book because you–I–have been faithfully apprising them of the book’s progress for–in my case–ten years.
People are busy with their own lives. Reading about my life is not an overwhelming priority. It is time to for me to move on, to go with what I have and believe for the best. I should also keep in mind that it’s been so long since I’ve written some of this stuff that I would probably see my own “forest for the trees” writing as new content written by a stranger. Sentence structure, telling not showing, grammar, and other inconsistencies will probably pop out and I will be able to fix the problems immediately.
The moral of this story: Believe in your work, but do not expect other people to love your baby as much as you love your baby.