SELF PUBLISHING

It’s Taken Eleven Years To Publish My First Book

On writing and self-publishing my first book, Resurrecting Motherhood

Photo by VD Photography on Unsplash

I was lounging at my desk, wearing my favorite cotton chemise, sipping my affogato appreciating the amazing progress I had made on my first book. I could hardly believe how easy this was. I just needed to create a plan, block off some time in my calendar, and put up my Do Not Disturb sign. In a few more days, this baby will be something I can hold in my hands and sell to the masses.

I check my carefully coiffed curtain bangs in the bronze-framed mirror adjacent to my bookcase. I like what I see. My bangs brush my high cheekbones, while the messy knot holding the rest of my hair back is picture perfect. I heard the old grandfather clock I inherited from my favorite weird uncle strike two, and suddenly I woke up from this beautiful dream with the grooves of a spiral notebook on my cheek and drool on my forearm.

Reality checks me like a narly dog running full tilt on a chain that suddenly comes up short in pursuit of that annoying kid who’s always taunting me with his food.

Reality can really bite.

Writing my first book has been everything fellow writers have been telling me — hard.