I’m my own worst enemy, my own monster. At seven years old I decided I would be a writer when I grew up, I didn’t know about confidence or hard work or that someday I’d have two children that I would be responsible for. Unaware that as I got older, my problems would be bigger and harder I didn’t know that we don’t always get what we want.
I had two plans; Plan A and Plan B. Plan A was to be just like Stephen King and write for a living. But no one told me that to do that, I should just write. I attempted to start books, but I always fell flat after Chapter 1. Plan B was to work as a writer at a company, any company that needed a writer. That way I was still doing what I wanted and getting paid for it. I did that for a while and then the kids came.
Thinking I always roll with the changes, I got caught up in that life. Running the kids from school to activities to friends. I lived through infertility, a bad pregnancy, the death of a child and eventually a career change. But when my lost decade was over, I woke up and realized it wasn’t me. With the lack of confidence to truly be an interior designer and make the jump to my own business, I floated around a mother to older children and a desire to start working again. Feeling a complete and utter failure, heavier than I had ever been and not accomplishing anything in my life, I attended my twentieth class reunion. To make my low self esteem even lower, I met another writer (she wrote non-fiction) and I found myself jealous and angry at myself for allowing my dreams to die and for the first time in ten years, I realized what I was missing.
It was then that I wrote my first book. It wasn’t that good, I hadn’t any idea of publishing or selling it but it was finished. And in the four years since I first self published that book, I’ve learned a lot about the whole indie author lifestyle. I wish I knew then what I know now, but rather than regret or dwell on it, I had to move forward.
I don’t sell many books. I haven’t been pushing them hard because I’ve rewritten the first book and restructured the series. It’s hard for me to hear about everyone else’s success. I’m on a roller coaster ride of emotions. I fight back by improving my social media, I’m trying hard to put together a fun and supportive blog. But it’s still there, my worst enemy, my monster, myself. Everyday I work to convince myself I’m an author. It’s not always easy and I have to work really hard to shut down that voice that tells me I’m a failure. It hangs over me my like a black mist, enveloping me and choking me. And yet, here I am, writing my blog, planning for the re-release of book one and the first release of the new book two. I can’t give up because that would me the self doubt and the fear will win.
I’m not sure who I’m doing this for anymore. Sometimes I think I’m doing it for my girls, so they have something to be proud of me for and sometimes I think I’m doing this for me because a seven year old still resides inside of me and she really wants this badly. But mostly I do this for me because I really, really enjoy what I do. I’m hoping someday that I find the audience that can enjoy what I do as well.
I kill my demon with a pen not a sword and someday, I hope to win.