It hit me today. I’m no longer a Deb. I mean, I am and always will be a Debutante in spirit, but in the strictest sense of the word, I no longer qualify. My “debut” has passed – my “debut” novel, GOOD THINGS, came out this past February. I didn’t realize how much I would miss it, now that it no longer applies. *sniff*
But you know how it goes – with every ending there is a new beginning. The reason this hits home today is because I am wading through edits of book #2 (wading being the operative word here – picture yourself in big rubber boots trying to get through a knee-high puddle of muck and you’ve got it), which will be sent to my editor in a few short days. Already book #3 has started to write itself in my head. A year ago today I couldn’t see this far ahead, and now, suddenly, I’m here.
What I didn’t expect was how hard it would be to move forward. I’m so close to the end of this book, and yet it’s like I’m dragging my feet. I have never been more distracted than I have been these past few days. The big wide writing world is out there, and I have to say that leaving the debut turtle shell is kind of tough. In theory, it’s not (“Bring it on!”) but in reality? Yikes.
I’ll get there, like we all do, and then there will be something new around the corner, like there always is. But at the moment? The place I’m in feels almost … itchy. I’ve got lots of nervous energy boiling up.
But I’ve learned that one of the best ways out is through, so I’m off, wading through the muck just a little bit longer, a bit nostalgic about what’s past and a bit anxious about what’s ahead. Who knows … maybe I’ll pick up a snazzier pair of boots and see if that helps.