There’s something no one tells you about the self-publishing process.
It’s exhausting. Not just, worked all day and sore kind of exhausting, but never learned so much, stretched so far, reprogrammed thoughts or pushed so hard. It’s rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, organize, socialize, research, fact-check, network, market, rewrite, rewrite, edit, track down and filter collaborators, fundraise, rewrite, then REPEAT.
Most importantly, when you’re first starting out, there’s the gather information and sort it process.
Filtering is exhausting beyond all measure. Vast quantities of information, much of it conflicting, requires more in-depth research to find as many facts as possible – to then weigh the best possible options and make an informed YET artistic choice. Separate truth from egos, agendas from generosity and predators from prey. Good information, poor information, right or just plain wrong. You have to take in all the information, and make your best call.
If you want to make a living at it – which I do – then you know you’ve got to get it right. For me, the stakes are higher than some and while less than others, I know this is likely the best shot I’ve got so I know I need to make it count.
No pressure, right?
The hardest information to filter for me, turns out to be the changes this choice has created in my day-to-day interactions. The decisions and choices that make up the fundamental character that is considered – me.
This is an unexpected development. Something I neither read nor heard about and have been totally blindsided by the alterations in my personal daily grind.
Yes, I knew it would be more work than I’ve ever done on any project before.
Yes, I knew it would be the most serious test to my limits yet.
Yes, I knew I would be tired, weepy, blown open by the possibility of finally achieving something I’ve always dreamed of, while also be terrified of failure and also the responsibility of success.
Yes, I know it might collapse in a burning ball of failure.
Yes, I know I might be over-reaching, expecting or hoping for too much.
Yes, I knew there would be days of lying on my floor, sobbing under the paralyzing fear that I might not be strong enough to pull this off like I hope.
Yes, I admit there are some days I wish I could have found an easier gig. Wished I’d never been born with the need to write. Wished I’d never been curious or stubborn or foolish enough to think I could do it on my own.
Yes, some days I wish I were an accountant or a dentist with no aspirations of world travel or personal adventures or evolution.
This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I hope this isn’t the last time I get to make that claim, because…
No, I haven’t really wanted to give up.
My days are different now. There’s no way around it. My sleep schedule is different, my social schedule, creative flows, and even the kinds of music I want to listen to is changing. I’m not sure I could have done this much shifting while still working the heavy hours of finance – in fact, I know I couldn’t.
In this peddle-to-the-metal race to the finish, it’s my full-time project sometimes 80-90 hours a week. Each night I’m exhausted, sometimes heart-worn, always bone-heavy and sleep is interrupted with creative imaginings and plotting for the next day’s workload.
This week, after my edits came back from the editor and I had some quiet space to unravel before the next leg of the project, I sat down.
Just sat and tried to shut my brain off for just a couple of days.
Because something no one told me about this new lifestyle, this new career that is a way of living – is that you can reach burnout. Fast.
And I can feel it pushing against my boundaries. Forgetting dates, losing blocks of time at the computer, misplacing things, neglecting basic chores, forgetting obvious niceties, frayed patience, checking the clock frequently but forgetting what day of the week it is.
Early signs to bigger issues, so I’m going to slow it down for a bit. Just a bit. Still have deadlines to meet and a book to deliver on time. But I think for a few days, I’ll just shut the filter off and process the heavy things later. I’ll eat some junk food and go for a few walks.
And when a few days of not stressing have unclogged the filters – I can return to light speed and get this book launched.
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