Sometimes I’m so overcome with doubt.
After all, what I’m trying to do is hard. I want to make a career out of my writing, but that’s – any way you look at it – going to be really, really difficult. There are so few people on this planet of ours who manage it, why am I going to be lucky enough to succeed?
I am writing constantly at the moment: creating and creating and creating.
But I need more than that.
Book marketing is something I know pitifully little about in any practical sense, but I’m trying to increase my knowledge, understand how it works.
I want to give myself the best shot, and to do that I need to have amazing product that I’m proud of, and the understanding of how to promote it.
But still I worry, as I pay for professional editing and cover design, that I might be taking food from my baby daughter’s mouth for no good reason.
Actually, that’s an exaggeration. I have a job and will always have money to feed and clothe my darling girl.
But if I do keep down this route and fail, she might wonder someday what I did with her inheritance.
I hope and pray not though.
Hopefully she looks at her old man with pride because he lived his dream. That, as much as anything else, is what I’m striving for.