And still I find myself being extremely anxious waiting for reviews of the book. To be clear, I don't expect any, but I'm anxious about it all the same.
I did receive a lovely note from a reader on Twitter, who said they loved it. Thanks, Julienne!
And so, I sit here, biting my nails for silly reasons.
I don't even know why I'm so anxious about it. It was good enough to be published, clearly. I should be fine. For some reason, however, I'm so much more anxious about this than I was about any of my other books.
Part of that, I think, is that so much of this is totally out of my control. While I'm still hustling to be seen in the writing world, I'm not the one chasing down review sites trying to get word out about my book. I'm not seeing the sales numbers, I'm not arranging for places to sell this book... So much of the process that I'm so used to doing myself, which helped give me at least the sensation of being in control, is missing.
There, I think, lies the source of my anxiety.
It's a weird place for me. Being self-published for so long and having everything on hand was actually a great comfort, even if it was a tonne of work.
I'm glad not to be doing all the work this time, though. Still, it's a struggle to keep anxiously pacing to and fro.
Right, I have to go now. Welsh lessons are calling.