I set some lofty goals for myself last year - and when I met them, I thought - huh... Certainly not the reaction I expected.
I think it all started with a little premature panic - but let me back up a bit.
My writing experiences last year were nothing short of awesome. I joined a new writing group, met up with an awesome critique partner (now partners), attended my first writer's conference, met some incredible writers on social media, and kept writing and reading and editing and learning so, so much!
And - in an end-of-year push, I completed my "final" rounds of self-editing - yay!!! I should be celebrating, right? Instead... Cue the panic attack:
Am I ready for beta readers? For any readers? And what about publishing? How should I do it? Oh my gosh - do I even want to publish? And why did I write a cozy anyway? I mean, I like cozies and all... Should I make it darker? lighter? funnier? more (gasp) literary? EEEK!!!
And then I took a deep breath (huge writing cliche), and said - huh...
Despite all the questions I need to answer and the decisions I need to make, I'm still writing. It's not as though I can stop - it's what I love to do. And much like my own journey, I need to find out where Bobbie's takes her. So, while I temper my terror and conquer my confusion by researching the various available publishing options and the steps I need to make to move forward, I am also reading through my messy draft zero for Book Number Two and reworking the plot to create a compelling second story.
And just to complicate things, I have ideas rattling around my brain for another project. But that's a topic for another day.