I can’t write that on my blog…

At first I wasn’t going to tell this story. I was like, I can’t write this on my blog! I can’t let people know my book’s less than perfect. My blog felt like a lover I had to confess a potentially game changing secret to. I actually went back and forth over several days, should I tell, should I not tell, but ultimately, I decided to come clean because the point of me starting this blog was to detail my writing process.

So, having quelled my Virgo need for perfection, I can now freely admit – deep breath – I’m going to revise my book.

It all started when a known hard ass reviewer gave me the option to NOT have her review my book until after I do some work on it. I didn’t cry, but I did pull my book down off of Amazon. If it had just been one opinion I might have ignored it. But there’s also my new critique partner’s (CP) comments, and those two refund requests I saw in Kindle Analytics.

I suppose there’s any number of reasons why someone could have asked for their money back, but the bottom line is they did. They asked for two funky ass dollars and 99 cents back, and that’s serious. THIS is serious. I’ve had to acknowledge that my job likely has skewed my perception. I keep wanting to hunt those two refunds down and yell, I’m an award-winning editor! I’m good! But success on my job apparently does not translate to automatic success as romance novelist.

To add to the drama, a woman wanted me to be the featured author in her Sept. newsletter. Thankfully, when I asked to be the October author spotlight instead – since my product isn’t ready for public consumption – she agreed.

My CP told me not to push the panic button. And I’m not. I’m just realizing that I haven’t devoted nearly enough time to honing my dream. Certainly not the same amount of time I’ve devoted to my career.

Things could be worse. It’s almost like the fates set things up for this to happen since my new, not even two weeks old critique partner has agreed to help me whip this thing into shape.

It’s like the time my purse was stolen. It was like I’d subconciously planned to get robbed. I took my checkbook out before I left the house that night, and I had my keys and various other important tidbits zipped into my jacket pockets. In this case my CP and several books comprise the stuff I zipped into my pockets.

There are multiple lessons here. One, even editor’s need editors. Two, the learning curve never stops. Three, when you realize you’ve shortchanged your dream, don’t cry. Get help, revise, republish, and then call the hard ass reviewer back and tell her now you’re ready for her to do her worst.

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