Andrew and I finished our first novel together.  The name is The Wind is High.  We have worked ourselves raw for six weeks, and yesterday sent the manuscript to the first beta readers.  I am happy to give it to anyone who asks.  I will post the first chapter (the weakest chapter, unfortunately) soon, here.  We finished the first pass of editing yesterday.  I read every sentence of that book over and over until I was happy with each and every word.  

Andrew is already getting ideas about the second book in the series, The Sun is Death.  He promised me a week of rest before we would begin work on it.  I am hoping he will remain pacified with notes.  I am so tired.

I would read ‘About the author’ blurbs on books as a child and always thought their lives sounded so idyllic.  I wrote ‘Author’ on my list of dream jobs.  Now, Andrew says I can call myself an aspiring author, or even just a writer. 

He has been watching me work extremely hard for weeks now.  I am reading our book through for the first time.  It is quite good – I would read it if I found it on a shelf.

I think it’s good enough to get me hired.  I think it will get published.

Aspiring author.  Am I worth that much?  To aspire?

The process is slow and the road is long and winding.  I have a feeling in my heart that I will be signing on with an agent before my third book is written.  I feel like that will prevent the third book completing at the same rate as the first two.

I have no reason to believe that besides the evidence of the quality I see before me.  It may not happen because I don’t really know the future.  Only a 95% success rate on such feelings.

There is, of course, the danger to having hope.  When reality does not rise to meet it.  Rejection letters are a matter of course and authors wear them like badges of honor.  The writers on Reddit were talking about having their rejection letters framed.  I prefer to frame my artwork.

I do not think worry is an effective inoculation against despair.  I prefer Andrew’s method: Move goal posts, claim victory.

Worst case scenario, I continue to write.  It is the same situation I find myself in now.  Even if this first book does not strike the right chord, one day one will.  The more books I have to my name, the more chances I have to play the odds.

I have proven my capability.  I now have the right to call myself a writer.  To progress to author is certainly one to aspire to.  To ask that my book be bound and packaged for competition next to my heroes.  It is an act of pure arrogance.

I will dare and I do not even doubt my worthiness.  I’ve seen others who line those shelves.  I have read my least favorite books, all printed and bound next to my favorites. 

I may not yet be writing my greatest work, but the only way to ever find out is to keep writing.  When I am not working on books, I am writing in my journal, writing for my blog, writing notes and annotations, writing my dreams and writing my fears.  When inspiration comes calling, it will find me writing.