Just start. Sometimes we get caught up in the promotion and the expectations for our books, because they are like children. We incubate the tiny human for nine months, they are painfully born and here they are! And before we’ve spent any time at all getting acquainted, we think, ah, this child will be a police officer, construction worker, cowboy or Indian chief. And we will be so proud. You picture the graduations from multiple universities. You picture yourself bragging to your friends about your wonderful child who is wonderful because you are the perfect parent.
This child will live all the dreams you were forced to defer.
This child will make the income that eluded you.
This child will take advantage of new technologies, new attitudes, and better fashion.
And on her second birthday, the child will demonstrate that no, no she will not. And all you are left with is sixteen years to get used to your dissapointment.
Yeah, writing a book is just like that. All those expectations about publishing? Like as soon as your book is published you will become younger, thiner, and richer? May not pan out. All those hopes for a transformative experience the minute the book is accepted for publication? You still must do the laundry.
And all those accolades? People don’t really care that much, they don’t understand the process or the effort. Oh, you wrote a book. I just won third place in the local rodeo for roping tanks. And the both of you stand there and you think, my kid said something about wanting to rope inanimate objects.
You cannot control the outcomes. Not for your book and not for your child. But as you know, you can control the daily interaction. You can listen to your child, you can take them out on adventures, you can love them.
You can be in every moment possible.
That’s how you manage any great big huge project.
Once you let go of the outcome (I know, sounds kind of zen, and it kind of is), then you can concentrate on the work. Decide what you want from the writing experience. Do you have something to say? Begin by saying it. Do you have a beef against the small cowboy child who yesterday roped the full coffee maker? Write about that.
You start because there is something about doing that will feed your soul. You begin because you are essentially raising a book and it’s all about the daily tasks and efforts.
Think of book publication as High School Graduation. You are finished with all the daily work, all the moments, all the concentration, all the homework. And now the child and the book have graduated – it’s official.
I would like to say that now the work is done. But it’s not. The work has just changed.
Believe me, it’s more fun to do the first phase, the writing phase, than the second, the post publication phase. As my friend commented, the hardest years for raising a boy is between 18 and 23, because all you can do is take the call that starts with “I’m okay”.