Yesterday, I held my debut novel in my hands for the very first time. “Night & Day”, by Sherrie Hansen. I’ve been waiting to see my name in print on the cover of a book since well before I started actively writing, over 10 years. In my child’s imagination, it has been my dream since I was about ten years old.
So, why, now, when it is a “done deal”, am I feeling less than thrilled? Why, when this is what I’ve always wanted, is the thought of my words being read by family, friends and strangers alike making me feel so naked that all I want to do is run, get into bed, and hide under the covers?
For a few hours this morning, I have the power to say, “Forget it. This was a mistake. My book isn’t ready to be published. I’m not ready to be published.” Then, it is out of my hands… out there… released… in print… awful, undeniable print.
These are my words. I was not delirious when I wrote them. I take ownership for them. I have worked hard to make them the best they can be. In my better moments, I am extremely proud of them.
So why, now, at the dawn of seeing my book in print, am I having this crisis of confidence? Why is the night so black? Why is the thought of daybreak so frightening?
It’s midnight in Minnesota and daybreak in Denmark…
I have always been a Creature of the Night. A Night Owl. A Dreamer. I’ve seen thousand of sunsets, only a handful of sunrises.
Night & Day, by Sherrie Hansen, who like Jensen Marie Christiansen, is so reticent of change that she wants only to cling to the dark night of the way it’s always been.
It’s the dawning of a new day. This is what I’ve always wanted, isn’t it?