Book, Interrupted

I've finally taken that step. The link above this post is proof.

ABSOLUTION'S CURSE is published.

After dreaming up this story idea eight years ago while working one night (what else do you do on third shift?) all the effort is finally over. Plots. Drafts. Edits. All behind me. The pieces have come together to form one solid novel.

I can't begin to tell you how many versions I have stashed away in various folders on my PC. A few weeks ago I found one of the earliest files. I read it and cringed, much like I'll probably do in a few years when I look back at this book.

So all that's left is to upload and watch.

We all know that statement is delusional on so many fronts.

First, the upload part. I've used this experience to invent a few new worty-dirds that I'd prefer not to type here. Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords have done amazing things to allow non-professional publishers to put their personal works of art into the public domain. Yet, each one had their own issues. Multiple times over the past week I've leaned back in my chair and relaxed, certain the job is done, only to find a few minor and occasionally major flaws. I imagine some format reviewer at Amazon is laughing each time they see my file return for another try.

Second, the work has only just begun (why did Karen Carpenter's angelic voice just echo through my brain?). I'm not very good at promotional stuff. I'm trying to learn twitter but still feel like an alien monitoring foreign communications. This blog has been fun to write but I still wonder what I'm supposed to say and where that line between interesting and disturbed lies. I've read writers doing guest blogs and received tweets from websites proclaiming they can boost sales figures. I'm still trying to figure out where I fit.

Third, the journey gives that strange drive to keep going. I play softball every weekend because of a push from inside even though I know my knees will bark at me for days. That same unstoppable, insatiable thrust has arrived in the form of a keyboard and blank page. I know the commitment required, the pain from rejection, the doubt, the overwhelming fear that all this is for nothing and it would be better for all if I just pulled away from the writing desk forever.

Yet, that voice keeps whispering. That tiny cry from somewhere undefinable won't let me stop.

My idea, born from a simple desire keep my mind busy during long dark drives into work, is published.

Now the real job begins.


C.L. Blanton