I haven’t finished my book yet. I’ve mentioned it before, but here’s a recap: I’m working on a four-part YA series. My goal was to have finished book 1 by the first of June. Obviously, that hasn’t happened.
I have the entire series planned out, and right now, I need to fill in the last third of the story (final scene already nailed down, subject to change, of course), rewrite one particular chapters, and fix stuff I did earlier on that I knew wasn’t quite right.
I can’t concentrate. I can’t believe in myself in the face of all this J.K. Rowling hype. Now, I have nothing against her personally, but when I think of her, how she wrote the first book when she was dead broke and look-where-she-is-now…I can’t face it.
That’s never going to happen again. Even if I do get published, the whole world is not going to go insane for my book. They’re not going to hold vigils waiting for installments 2, 3, and 4; there will be no dissection of my stuff on the net; there will be no fan sites; and critics are not going to say “Hallelujah: [MyReal Name] has changed the face of YA literature!”
And if I don’t get published at all…then what? Maybe I’m not that good. Maybe no one wants to hear my voice. I’m 33; maybe I don’t know what makes teenagers tick. I wasn’t a normal teenager myself, after all. Maybe there’s not enough conflict in my story; maybe I’m not using the specific gimmick enough; maybe I’m too preachy.
So why am I intimidated by her? Because she’s fixed it so that there are no worlds left to conquer? Because she has more money than the Queen? Because I’m afraid editors will say, “It’s okay, but it’s no Harry Potter”? Because I should have been finished by now?