Pre-Launch Anxiety

Happy Thursday, everyone!

In five short days, my book will go live. Which is awesome and terrifying at the same time. It's awesome because, well, shit... I wrote a book. It's terrifying because, well, shit... I wrote a book and people might read it.

This is where we all talk about imposter syndrome, right? Right.

It's that feeling that you and what you've created are crap. It's like you're just hanging out near the "big kids' table" at dinner pretending to be one when, in reality, you're still a kid wearing too much cologne trying to talk about politics with your Aunt Barbara and you have no idea what you're doing. Then you worry that one of the real big kids is going to overhear you, put you in your place, and make you feel awful about existing.


That's where I am right now.


I've never written a book. I've only ever been published once... ironically, it was the short story that then grew to become Alone In The Light. And it was under the same name back in... 2005 I think?  It was the Canvas Creative Arts Magazine at Indiana University. Not a huge publication, but it was nice for me to see my words in printed form.

But now... sheesh. I'm about to show potentially tens of people a work that is 330 pages of my inane ramblings. Okay, not ramblings, but my thoughts jotted down on the page. And I think my big fear isn't if people will like it or not like it... but what if they nothing it? What if they finish it and are just "meh" about the entire thing. I think that would be the worst.

Another fear is that people will go into this thinking it's a war story. It's not. It's a homecoming story. It's about coming back home to find your favorite things no longer feel or fit the way they should. It's about closing off from the people you love and the things you love to do... and it's about trying to overcome that through drinking. Which, minor spoiler, doesn't work that well.

This story comes from my many nights of sitting on my couch, smoking cigarettes, watching Stargate SG-1 reruns until 2am, and drinking a lot of alcohol trying to get certain things and images out of my head. This story comes from the idea of thinking college was the greatest thing in the world, but after going to Iraq everything seemed muted. It was like the color was sucked out of the world and I didn't know why... or how to deal with it. I came home and practically RAN back to college without giving myself time to adjust. For better or worse, it has worked out for me in the long run. I love where I've ended up in life. I love my wife and kids. I love our house. I love our neighborhood... I hate my commute, but that's a different story.

So... here we are. Five days away from having people potentially read my story, and I almost want to call the whole thing off.

Am I alone in this anxiety? Or am I just another in the long line of wannabe writers trying to sit at the big kids' table and not knowing if I'm ready or even able to pull up a chair?

I guess we'll know soon enough.