My book arrived today, in the mail. Which ticks me off, because I should have been able to order Author Copies, but currently Amazon has turned that feature off. I was hoping to offer autographed ones in September, but unfortunately that doesn’t look like it will happen.
There’s a few things and edits that the book needs before it’s “perfect” but since I still can’t afford it, the only thing I can think to say is that I am really fucking proud of myself.
It’s not exactly how I imagined it would be, it’s certainly not what I hoped it would be, but somehow it feels better…does that make sense? Have you ever dreamed of something only for it to happen in incredibly unexpected ways?
That’s what I am going through right now, and it feels pretty cool I have to say.
I am learning to read my writing, but it’s difficult, reading my art after I’ve put it all together is really difficult. For any writer, but I am realizing that choosing not to do it is lazy. I never want to be accused of being stagnant. I want to grow as a writer, and that means doing my homework.
Seeing where I went wrong the first time so I can do better the next time is not my strong suit.
My mission, I am realizing is to make the dreams of my five year old self a reality. There is nothing I want to do less than let down the little girl I used to be, because while she may not need me, I need her.
I need my past selves to remind me of who it is I used to be, so I can remember who it is that I want to be.
I have spent my whole life secretly wanting to have my own business.
I have that.
I have spent the last thirty-two years of my life wanting to be an Author.
I am an Author now.
I made those dreams come true, through….a lot of bullshit actually. Through a lot of pain and suffering and oppression, I fucking did what I set out to do, even if it’s not in the way I expected or necessarily wanted.
I have no expectations of the future. Largely because I still believe that there is no way that life can get better than is. Being left alone to write is the healthiest thing for me right now, and the fact that I have time and space to do that is a fucking Godsend.
I am so grateful for everything, and that’s largely because of everything I’ve been through. It gives you this bitter taste in your mouth, because you’re grateful to be alive but you really shouldn’t have to be.
Being alive in of itself is a human right, and while we should all be grateful for what we have, our gratefulness should not come at the cost of our sanity and our connection to our higher power.
That’s the frustrating part. I am happy to be alive, but I am also terrified almost all of the time because I know what is out there now. I know the kind of evil that one human can inflict on another, and I am scared that I got off too easy.
If you call living, easy. Living is the hardest thing you will do, especially after you have been abused. That’s why I included four pages of help phone line numbers from across the globe.
It was fairly easy to find them, but I wanted to ensure anyone who had a copy of my book had the Brown Pages as well, so that they could reach for help if they needed it by going to their book shelf.
This book is the most important thing I’ve ever done, because it proves that I can do it. That I can be a writer, and now that I know that I get to start working on the being a successful writer part. Which if you ask me is far more exciting than sitting in my living room writing and watching King Arthur for the one hundredth time.
Sending all my love from Authorville,
Devon J Hall