As the innards of my upcoming book are analysed by the soothsayers of my publication team (YAY!) I reflect on what it means to release another book. What legacy will it leave? What will it mean for me – and more importantly, for my readers?
In putting together the contents I question what I want to present to the world from my inner self. My inner critic weighs in, telling me I’m not good enough or worthy enough or whatever – I’ve learnt (and am still learning) to disregard that inner voice that puts me down. I greet it quietly, acknowledging its presence, then choose to ignore it … and this helps me build the confidence to put myself out there in the public sphere, presenting my authentic self to the world.
In letting the world see my innermost thoughts I am vulnerable, and I choose to make myself vulnerable by publishing in the first place – the buck stops with me when I am presenting my work that comes fully from me, on my own terms – there is no ‘other’ or ‘other people’s regulations’ that I can hide behind if my book doesn’t make the cut, if it is judged (by external forces and standards) to be unworthy. And on the other side of the creative coin – I can rightly take any and all praise.
The process of writing is, of necessity, selfish: it becomes a balance between selfishness and self-care when I lock myself away in my office and let my imagination run wild. It feels like I’m putting my needs above those of the people around me – which my inner critic loves to pounce on, showing me that others are more worthy of my time than I am. I guess it depends on whether I view my writing as a hobby or a job, because my inner critic has no qualms in my exhausting myself by spending hours on my work-for-money!
Time will tell … we’ll see if this baby floats … flies … makes the impact I dream it will …