No, I’m not one of those writers who have to write because it’s my passion and/or it compels me … in fact, it doesn’t come easily to me and I don’t like it.  English was my least favorite subject in school, and I dreaded writing papers!  At this point, I suspect that all of the self-ascribed graphophiles have already written me off, but if you’re still with me, I’ll explain how my personal chaos transformed into my self-published healing.

According to materialistic and social standards, I had it all going for me:  a flexible job with good pay and benefits, time off with travel, a comfortable life with luxuries, and loving relationships—romantic, familial and friends.  However, I felt empty on the inside … unhappy and unfulfilled.  Why was I sabotaging my good life by behaving against my better knowledge?  It finally caught up with me, and I wanted to understand.  Despite my best efforts on my own, I didn’t have the tools to auto-correct.  Desperate, I sought professional help, and by the grace of a power greater than myself, I found the guidance that I needed.  After delicately handling my stories with care, my therapist asked me if I’d ever consider writing my stories, to potentially help others.  I was reluctant, for the aforementioned reasons about writing, but mostly because I felt fucked up.  How could I possibly help others, when I needed it most?!  He gently encouraged me, and I trusted him.

Oh my God, even just the thought of such an undertaking daunted me!  I started by brainstorming a list of possible stories which I thought might be interesting/entertaining, and from those, I eliminated the ones with which I wasn’t comfortable sharing.  Of course, as I progressed, the original list fluctuated as I added and deleted according to introspection and the general development of the theme.  Being an obsessive perfectionist, I had to force myself to heed the wise counsel of writing everything from the heart, without simultaneously editing.  I purged, and almost abandoned it altogether several times, especially after the emotionally painful catharsis.

It seems so unfair, how rushed the publishing process is (once initiated), compared to the slow, arduous work of the writing itself.  The fast pace of deadlines and expectations took me by surprise, once I committed to birthing my baby.  I had read an in-depth insider’s guide about publishing, and realized right away how difficult traditional publishing can be.  I wanted a publisher renowned for, and a leader in the genre of mind/body/spirit.  As I researched websites, the difficult hustle of traditional publishing was confirmed, which helped me decide to self-publish.

My healing through writing was reward enough itself … but now I had conviction of its potential—knowing that if my vulnerability could resonate with just one other person, that it would all be worth it.  I simply wanted to get my book out there, and let it go where it may.  The overall impetus was not wanting my personal stories to be in vain … to do them justice by sharing what I had learned, in the hopes of it resonating with others whom it might help.

Having written everything free-hand, my first edit was typing it all into email form (yes, email, as I didn’t have a word processor).  Then, I sent the manuscript draft for a consultation, which was super beneficial.  It was like a personal coaching, which was humbling, yet constructive to improve my (lack of certain) skills.  I’m so glad that I incorporated the suggestions, especially not having trained to write (avoiding writing altogether).  However, before I could revise anything, I had to learn how to use Track Changes at the library.  When I finally collaborated to self-publish, the pressure was on!

No more procrastination and/or excuses … I was held accountable by others, with timelines for each stage of the process.  I had no idea what I had gotten myself into!  I thought that after I had written the manuscript, that my job was done.  It was a rude awakening, but I had already put my money where my pen was—committing myself to its completion.  At times, I was miffed that I had to write what I thought was their job, but I quickly realized that it would be me writing personal extras such as:  cover text, sleeve text, author biography, galley additions, etc.  Granted, I was anxious to finalize everything, so the work of more writing was not a fun surprise.  How naïve I was, expecting someone else to take over and treat it like their own.  I was exhausted and wanted a break!

Meanwhile, the manuscript was being passed back and forth between (them) editing and (me) revising.  The most enjoyable part for me though, was deciding on the book cover image.  There were thousands of images in their gallery from which to choose, so I started with certain colors in mind (based on their meanings), which narrowed it down to a few hundred (you can filter by specifics).  Then, I let my intuition eliminate the ones which didn’t speak to me.  As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one.  Not only the colors, but the details of the image also represented personal significations.  Page count determines the size of the book, and details such as:  page color, font, decorative style preferences, and format can all be selected according to desire.  (All three formats:  hardcover, paperback and e-book cost more than just a single format).  I greatly appreciated the meticulous, back-and-forth process, which helped me to hone my copy, ensure quality content, and ease my obsessive mind.

I’m grateful that I chose to self-publish because everything was in my control, which was important to me, dealing with my life.  Plus, I retain copyright, with which to decide however I wish in the future.  Above all, was the invaluable evolution from rough draft to published work.  I’ve been forced to learn as I go, so much that I never expected, but necessary for my end goal of promotion after publication.  It would be a disservice not to mention that after publication, (if chosen) is the on-going process of:  marketing, publicity, media, events, self-promotion, more writing, et cetera.

It was an emotional event—holding my book for the first time and seeing my name on its cover!  The journey—the stories themselves, all of the time, effort, emotions … I wept.