Writing is like breathing, I've decided. The inbreath is the writing itself—a golden light that races through my veins, recharging my batteries like a solar cell in the sun.
The pause is the publishing. The 101 tasks that turn a manuscript into a book, a moment of anticipation before the next phase begins, complete with lots of muttering and some inevitable cursing.
Then, finally, the outbreath—the marketing. This is where I've often found myself holding my breath, unsure, uncomfortable and turning red in the face.
Book two, 'The Blessing of Crows', taught me a valuable lesson: there's little point in writing a book if you don't tell people about it. While there were extenuating circumstances (a seriously ill pooch and my own serious health issue), I still meet people at events who bemoan the lack of a sequel. It's lovely to be able to point at it on the table in front of me, but the lesson is clear. I was determined to do better this time.
Now, I'm five days away from launching book three, 'The Magic Keepers', and my lungs are screaming out for air. I've never been comfortable in the spotlight, and tiny as the beam of light is, I still squirm at every picture or video of myself. At a recent conference, I asked a fellow author for advice. They laughed and said, "Just get over it."
While blunt, perhaps there's wisdom in those words. I'm penning this quick blog post to give myself just enough air to keep going to the finish line. Here's hoping that one day the outbreath will be as comfortable as the inbreath.