For the first time in my life, typing “The End” felt like a huge relief rather than an epic accomplishment.
Looking back, I have to appreciate what an incredible personal accomplishment this was. A year ago today, I was checking my email daily, waiting for responses on my submissions while working on a dystopian novel (that is still only in fourth draft form)
They wanted me to come up with two more novels, write, edit, and submit within eight months; while working at a break-neck speed to release and market book one in a “window of opportunity”.
If you’ve been here a long time, you know I rarely balk at a challenge.
Looking back, though, I think if I am ever faced with such an offer again, I might try to push out the dates to five or six months for each book.
Can I write a clean book in four months?
Yes. This little adventure has proven that. But I’d rather have more time than I need, and submit early, than hit a bump in the road (like I did in the middle of book three) and have to ask for an extension.
Yeah, I may be dreaming, because I am a little fish in a big ocean, and some publishers won’t budge. But at least now I will know what I am getting myself into.
Would I do it again?
Yes. In a heartbeat. Like I said, a year ago my debut novel was sitting in query cues, and still getting rejections. Now that same book that I was considering “shelving” is a three book series, with decent sales and great reviews on book one.
Yep. I have to admit: It feels good.