Let me tell you something about being done with a book. You spend all this time writing the damn thing, then rewriting, then wondering if maybe you’d been in the midst of a hitherto undiagnosed fever dream when you fancied your book a page turner.
And then you ask other people to read it.
I gave my book to beta-readers with the full expectation that they were going to hate it. Actually, “hate” isn’t right. Hate it is too mild. It’d be entirely more accurate to say that I expected them to gather on my lawn for a cookout/burning of my main character’s effigy once they got a taste of the pestilence I’d cast down upon them. I imagine they’d even make s’mores over her smoldering carcass when it was over.
I’m happy to report that didn’t happen. The effigy, I mean. I can neither confirm nor disconfirm the making of s’mores on my front lawn.
Conversely, and in a most excellent turn of events, I’ve been getting very positive feedback. And no, it’s not the kind of positive feedback you get from people who don’t want to hurt your feelings, if that’s what you were thinking. This is the kind that is positive, but with constructive criticism. One of my beta readers even read the whole thing in a night and now wants the sequel which, incidentally, is done. Pretty bitchin’, right?
So now I’m happy. I’ve got some good notes, some points that my betas agreed were awkward or confusing, and thus a pretty solid piece of real estate from which to springboard into blissful rewriting joy. All in all I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself. Well, pleased and tired. But mostly tired.
Lastly, I am seriously looking into this whole Kindle Scout thing, because what the hell do I have to lose, right? Worst case scenario is they tell me, “Thanks, but no thanks” and the book continues to yield zero dollars in sales.