I just got the first copy of my first novel, Faking It (yes, you finally have a title by which to refer!), in the mail.
Wow.
It's a mixed feelings kind of moment. And that goes with the whole self-publishing thing. On one hand, it really is something to hold your own book in your hands. I've re-written and re-read this thing a hundred gazillion times, and yet I want to open my book and read it page by page, cover to cover, because I can. On the other hand, tt doesn't look professional enough.
Take the cover, for one thing. It came out pretty in front, but it doesn't look like a chick lit book. It looks like a sexy thriller. Here's where impatience may have gotten the best of me. Maybe I should pay someone to do a better cover design. Ditto on the formatting. Also problems in terms of professional grade. Methinks I need professional help there, too.
Bottom line? I don't wanna put this puppy in the window for sale until she's fully groomed and ready. Not even for friends and family. Heck, why not do it right? Or do it as well as I can, at the very least? Because now that I'm holding this book in my hands, I want others to be holding it as well. And I want them to be proud.
It's worthy. So am I. And so are you.
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