My Book Isn’t Perfect

My book is NOT perfect.

image I picked up the hard copy proof of my first novel today. Yes. After almost two years of hard work, I now hold this glorious, glossy piece of work in my hands. I’ll try not to stroke it too much, but I can’t promise anything.

I did try to make it perfect. For a while. Until one day my husband said to me, “You know you’re book won’t be perfect.” He knows me and my obsessive ways all too well. He was trying to save me from myself and my tendency to nit pick at something until I’m bleeding from the inside out.

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The Dark Journey of Writing my First Novel

Why did I decide to write a novel?

Because, when I was a child, I loved to read. For a while during my adult life, I lost sight of the importance of always having at least on book on the go. Thankfully, I found my way back to reading again. And I don’t mean reading text books for class or news to stay on top of things. I mean reading a novel. I mean losing yourself completely in a delicious story that sweeps you away to another world and makes you forget about everything. There is nothing more wonderful than that. Now, I always have at least one book on the go. And usually several at a time.

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Because, I have always admired how great writing can make me forget everything that is going on. How it can sweep my imagination away and make me believe things that I wouldn’t in real life. How it can elicit emotions that ripple through every part of my being. How I can be taken on a journey and care so much about people that don’t actually exist.

Because, I see every book I pick up as a gift. And I wanted to give my own gift to all those that love to read.

Because, I longed for a challenging project. A new path in life. And to do something that I honestly didn’t know if I could.

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