One month out from releasing RESEMBLING LEPUS (don't try and say that when you're hammered!) into the wild.
This li’l dude…
Just like a wild rabbit, uncontrolled conditions and reactions are in its future. Some will be stellar, and some will be 'meh' and some will be scathing. Not every book is everyone's cup of tea. I write for me. I'm happy. That should be the end.
Going further down that rabbit hole - last bunny pun I promise - I often ponder the frailty/robustness of artists' egos. I mean, even those of us who shy away from attention - any attention; birthdays, public speaking, small talk, Karaoke - are still trying to put books out there into the hands of strangers who all have platforms on which they can shout out their opinions. Nothing wrong at all with posting stuff you're passionate about. I always post about things I've enjoyed and love.
I might just have to switch off the socials for a bit, though, while this book enjoys its first forays in the big, wild world. My ego is pretty good, but I think many of us have imposter syndrome and who needs external doubt to add to that which is already bouncing around in our skulls? Not me. I got other stuff to write. (Ghost story this time!)
One month to go.
How much overthinking can I get done during that time? Plenty :)