My fabulous betas still have custody of The Locked Room, so today I thought I’d share a text I wrote when I finished the first draft. It’s written August 11, 2016.
Today I finished my first book. Exactly one month before my 44th birthday, I finally wrote the words “The End”, preceded by 55217 other words making up my very first book.
There are no words to express what this means to me.
I’ve dreamt of becoming a writer as long as I can remember, but I never thought I was good enough. I spent years doubting myself, burying this dream so deep I almost forgot about it myself. And I never spoke to anyone about it.
But one day this spring my husband said: I think you should write a book. I immediately told him all the reasons why I shouldn’t, but he shot down every excuse I came up with, until all I was left with was But…but…
So in March I sat down in front of my computer, thinking it was time to start this book-writing-business. And five months later it’s done.
I don’t know if it’ll ever get published. I don’t know if anyone will like it. I don’t know if anyone will buy it if I manage to publish it. And if I think about it too much, I get scared to death to let other people read it. What if they think it’s crap? This is months of work, months of my blood, sweat and tears, and having someone say they hate it would be like someone saying they hate my baby.
But do you know what? Right this minute I don’t give a damn. Right this minute I’m busy being so extremely proud of myself for seeing this project through from start to finish. There was a couple of times I thought I wouldn’t finish, but I persevered. I soldiered on. I got the job done.
I finished my first book today.
Excuse me while I go cry. But don’t worry. They’re happy tears.