The question that has plagued my mind since I began to take this writing thing seriously is “When should I publish?” Asking ten of my closest friends brings thirteen different answers. I tend to be my own worst critic. When I look at what I have written and compare it to the stories I enjoy reading, I don’t feel like mine rise to the same level. Don’t get me wrong, I think people could enjoy what I have written, but I still need to grow in my skill.
Part of me feels like if my work is not up to my own standard then I shouldn’t be trying to sell it. But another part of me feels like stories are written to be read and to have them sit on my hard drive is a waste of creativity. And another part of me feels hungry and wants people to buy my stories so that I can eat Chik-Fil-A and sushi every day.
In the end, I realized that I have not chosen to publish yet because of fear. I’m afraid that people will think I’m not a good writer. I’m afraid people will try to lock me into a genre. I’m afraid someone will regret spending .99 for my words and that the hours I spent crafting them will have been a waste. But fear is rarely rational. And it makes a horrible master. So I have published my first book and kicked fear in the balls. If you have read this far then let me ask one last thing of you. If you buy my book, tell me what you think. Be honest. I want to learn and grow still. And I want sushi.
You can purchase A Skip in Time here or by clicking on the image at the right of the screen.
Being in an interrogation room did not scare Sam. Seeing no cameras concerned him a bit, but he would not go so far as to say that scared him. What scared Sam was the fact that he had arrived there through the back of a maintenance closet, down an elevator that he never knew existed, and into a floor that was not on any set of blueprints he had ever seen. If he had been kept in the dark about all this after 12 years as Chief Engineer, what other secrets did CoreTech hold?
The gray hallway seemed different than Ben remembered it. Had they changed it since last time or had it just been so long that his memory was playing tricks on him? It was hard to tell with the flashing light. He looked around awkwardly, trying to avoid eye contact with the others that had been forced out of their home units by the evacuation drill. Ben studied the others and quickly found that most were playing the same game of “avoid the others” that he had been, but they would not be allowed back in until every one of the 3,400 or so residents were confirmed as being out.