Last week I handed my manuscript over to the editor, to weave their magic. I'm conflicted about this, in one way I'm excited for it to be made shiny and take the journey from manuscript to novel. In another its like handing over my first born to a complete stranger and hoping that they take good care of it.
At least there is now progress! It's hard to believe that this is real. It still hasn't sunk in that I'm a few short months away from being a published author. Some days I'll be reading one of my favourite author's blogs and getting a case of life jealousies - only to have to remind myself that this is all within my reach.
So while my first manuscript is getting its face lift I'm querying my second, and slogging through my third. So I guess that I've reached a point where I can call myself a writer, without mumbling it under my breath or blushing.
When I started writing my first manuscript, I didn't tell anyone. I spent a year living a secret life, because I was embarrassed about the dream that I was harboring. It was only once I had a publishers interested in it that I stepped out of the metaphorical writers closet, and I quickly wished that I could step right back in. People suck - not that, that probably comes as a surprise to anyone. But *seriously*. Here are an example of the reactions I have gotten when I've confessed I've written a novel.
"Paranormal Romance? So it's just like Twilight?"
"It's about vampires... Right?"
"It's not like Twilight? So it must be similar to Harry Potter?"
"You wrote a novel? Have you read Fifty Shades of Gray?"
Okay, so not everyone has been so negative. I'll admit the majority of people in my life have been supportive. And I'm very thankful for that.
It's my intention to do a better job of blogging. So stay tuned for more. Otherwise follow me on Twitter. The link is over that way >>>>
Rachael x
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