There are books in this world, wonderful, powerful books that have shaped the minds of generation after generation. Many of these books took a lifetime to create, and the writer’s effort clearly shows. Others of these books may have taken several months or several years, but they too have earned a place of respect. Right now, I have no intention of creating a novel that can compete with these works. I simply want to create a story that young teens will read, relate with, and enjoy. I also intend to write many books over my lifetime with different characters and settings until all the stories in my mind have been told. But each day that ticks by, I feel a great anxiety to finish my first novel and begin my journey as a professional writer. This goal of mine, a goal I’ve had since the second grade, is sometimes motivating and sometimes overwhelming. Today, it’s overwhelming.
I have spent years taking an idea in my mind and creating it into a real novel. I am proud of every word on my pages, but I also want to keep making them better. So, when is enough enough? When do you print your precious pages and send them out into the world to be met with enthusiasm or criticism?
Part of me wants to hit print this very day and take that step, but the other part of me thinks my work may still be in its teenage years, and may still need the love of its creator. The other part of me wants to sit patiently waiting as I create each book in the series until it has reached the closest state to perfection that it can reach. So, I’m torn. I take precious minutes when I can and continue to polish my work, too afraid to make a choice either way, and yet, just by continuing this process it seems I’ve already made my choice.