Tick Tock Tick Tock

Since handing off my copies of my manuscript for Hunted to my beta readers yesterday I feel as though every passing minute has pounded a beat on the back of my skull in a maddening, never ending tattoo. The following is a recount of some of the thoughts that have meandered their way through my head. Some  may or may not be 100% accurate.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

It’s only been 20 minutes since I hit send. How is that even possible? It feels like a lifetime has passed.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Okay, it’s been over 12 hours now, why hasn’t anyone written back? Why haven’t I’ve been flooded with congratulations for penning the next bestseller?

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

I think I’m starting to develop a twitch in my right eye. I’m sure it’s nothing, but my cubicle neighbor keeps looking at me weird.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Maybe their email isn’t working. I’ll send them the manuscript again, just to be sure. And copy myself on it to make sure email is working.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Hmm. Email seems to be working fine, so why no reply?

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Okay, it’s been 13 hours since I sent them finished masterpiece. WTF?! Are they just doing this to spite me? They must be jealous of my genius. I didn’t think about how reading some an amazing piece of work might make them feel insignificant. Hope none of them feel suicidal. That must be it. They must all be too busy crying over their own failures to write back. Should send them all some tissues.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

15 hours! That should be ample time for them to come to terms with their own shortcomings and get to work on reading my novel. Why is no one responding? Why aren’t they all flocking around me, cheering my name? They should be lining up begging for my autograph and some small nugget of wisdom. How dare they besmirch me, their queen, their goddess of awesome?! Puny humans, I shall smite them. I shall strike them down and make them rue the day they ever sought to undermine my awesomeness. BEHOLD PUNY HUMANS, GAZE UPON THE FACE OF AWESOME AND QUIVER IN FEAR FOR I AM YOUR GOD!!

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Hello shiny happy people. A.J. here… hope I didn’t worry any of you with my little outburst. I feel much better now. Mr. Awesome Sauce found me some little blue pills and I feel so much better. A little sleepy. I think I’m just going to go lie down for a bit…

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Tick tock, tick, tock…

Tick tock…

Tick…

Tock…

Here comes the hard part…

Once upon a time I believed that finishing a novel was an immensely difficult task. I recently proved to myself that that is not the case, and spent a day or two basking in the glow of that revelation. Then the oh-so fun task of editing commenced. Ugh. I hate editing, but am pleased to say that it went better than I anticipated and I finished my first round of edits 5 days ahead of the schedule I had set for myself. It wasn’t until I was done with my edits that I discovered that the truly hard part (as in wanting to tear out your hair and scream to the heavens) of this whole process is handing that beautiful, glorious finished creation, or what I like to call my word baby, over to someone else and let them actually read it.

Gasp!

I know, right? Terrifying!

What if its absolute drivel? What if they don’t like it? What if they do?

These and a dozen other questions are currently running through my brain, slowly driving me crazy… or more crazy than I am already am. Whatever.

I know that Mr. Awesome Sauce is an awesome editor, hence the nickname, and would never be mean or abuse my word baby, and yet every time he begins a sentence with “I was thinking maybe we should tweak…” I feel myself begin to tense as if preparing for a strike. I want to cry “There will be no tweaking! My baby is beautiful and perfect! Thy eyes should burn in the presence of such perfection, and thy body should tremble in abject adoration! Bow down to me mortal, and worship all that is I!” Ahem… yeah, or maybe just “But I like it that way it is.”

I have no doubt that he’d never hurt my word baby, but I still feel like I’m steeling myself for an inevitable spanking. The logical side of me, which granted is usually buried under a dozen layers of craziness and neurosis, understands that I need the assistance of amazing people like Mr. Awesome Sauce and my beta readers, to help my word baby grow into a strong, beautiful novel. Their feedback is not criticism or a personal attack, it is just an opinion that in the end I can chose to ignore if I really want to, though that does kinda defeat the purpose. I’ve got a wicked awesome support group of people who are as excited for the book to be released as I am, and want to see me succeed. They’re happy and excited to be a part of the process, and they’re taking their roles seriously. But still the fear is there, and I’m not sure it ever really goes away.

All I can do is wrap my word baby up tight with my hopes and dreams, and pray that it doesn’t get spanked too hard.