Yesterday, my latest title was released and what did I do?
I edit for a living (and it’s not much of a living, let me assure you! Not like the old days when editors for the Big Six were paid good money to turn rough manuscripts into gold) and I’m under a deadline. So instead of savoring the particular joy that comes with seeing something I created released to the public… I goddamn worked. And did I put in the standard eight hours? I did not. I began at 8 am and kept working long into the night.
I remember the thrill I felt when my first title was released. That happened over a year ago. I couldn’t stop smiling, and I kept pinching myself and telling everyone, “Hey! I got published! Something I wrote was good enough to be offered for sale!”
There are several titles out there now with my name on them. I’m prouder of some of them than others but they are all my children, born of the magic that sets a brain on fire to make something new, something wonderful.
Such occasions should be celebrated, don’t you think? But yesterday… I worked. Phoenix Rising was released… and I didn’t break open a special bottle of wine. I didn’t go out for dinner on AJ. I didn’t take even five minutes to wallow in a feeling of accomplishment.
Somehow… that is very wrong, and it makes me want to weep.
How about this to cheer myself up?