I waited to write this post because I wanted the fullness of the ghostwriting experience, from conception with client to full-length novel publication. Publication is nearly upon us; and with it, I'm sure, the semi-neurotic mood swings all writers go through when putting words out there for public consumption. I'm prepared for them. Been there, done that. What I wasn't prepared for in this process was how liberating it was.
I no longer had to worry about marketability of concept. I'm not a marketer. I no longer had to worry about titles and pen names and cover art and the thousand and one other decisions that go into a fully-formed project. I no longer had to anticipate a media blitz, reviews and social media-ing myself until I was hugging my knees in the corner of the closet, rocking back and forth, a feeble "tweet, tweet," whispering from my lips. I'm not a publicist or a software expert or a saleswoman. I am a writer. I wrote.
And therein lies true liberation.
I often think I was born in the wrong age. A hundred years ago, when the gatekeepers to the publishing world were the only path, writers were free to do what they did best. Create. Edit. Ponder. Write some more. The current publishing climate is for control freaks and workaholics and jackanabes that subsist on every review morsel, be it nourishing or not. I know, because I am one of them. Or was. I can feel my diet shifting back to a healthy dose of what this gig is all about. Creating. Editing. Pondering. Writing some more.
And loving it.
If you're interested in my latest project, be sure to follow me on Twitter. I'll be providing a link the day it hits virtual shelves.