The great Alex J Cavanaugh once dreamt of a world where folks like me, the unstable, wishy washy, highly sensitive writer could vent their fears into the world without fear of reproach. Yes, that’s the same Alex J Cavanaugh whose novel, CassaFire, is just $.99 this week.
As for me, I’ve been waist deep in revisions for some time now. I’ve been piddling with this story for a few years now – and complaining about it for almost as long.
The reason I’ve been mired in endless revisions, which show no sign of ending, is that I have hit upon a story that I like. I mean, that I really like. So I keep rereading and tweaking things over and over again in hopes that it will be to other people, all the things it is to me. Which is great.
But with that, I think, comes a whole new level of insecurities. I’ve been trickling out short stories for a couple of years now, just tossing them out when I feel like I’m not really going to find a better home for them.
But this, this is different, this is my heart and soul, and a (intermittently at least) a few years of my life. Not constantly working on it, but constantly worrying about it. If this is the best that I can do right now, then any less than stellar rating I get for it will be a reflection of me, as an artist, as a human being, and as someone that spent a few years working on a thing that will most likely be met with a collective shrug from the world.
So I’m pensive, nervous, and am procrastinating. Latest target for overall readiness…. End of March. We’ll see how I feel about it then.