I Did Something for Me, and the World Didn't End

I thought maybe today I would take the time to talk about the decision to publish. Let me tell you, it was a bananas experience!

I guess I should set the boring stage: it was quarantine, and we weren't doing much of anything. Hence the boring. Like most of the people in the world, I had a lot of time on my hands. Sure, I was still working full time and still had my kids, but the fact that we couldn't go and do the stuff we were used to (including visiting my dad and grandpa which we were used to doing often) was making the whole family a little stir crazy. To remedy that in my head, I tried everything: cell phone games, baking, cooking, you name it. After I refined most of all I tried, I was left to just stew. I don't like to stew. I don't sit still well.

That's when I came across a site that you could read amateur writings on an online app, and I got kind of hooked. But after my "free allowance" of chapters was used, and I refused to spend money on a free app, I looked around for what else it had to offer. Then I came across the fact that they would let you write, and if you were good enough, they'd even contract you. There were also writing contests with prize money.

Who doesn't like extra income? Well, I feel a very particular way about it. About two years ago, I left my job of twelve years where I was a supervisor with good income for a job that paid less but was better for my health, sanity, and family. That being said, as the only income support for my family, I naturally felt guilty that we had to keep dipping into savings just to meet expenses each month because of what I did. Don't get me wrong, it was the best decision of my life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. But still...

Anyway, I heard my mother's voice in the back of my head. She had pressured me many times to write as she thought I had a knack for it. I just saw the prompt for the current contest (a story with a "zombie" element), and I put the phone away. I sat in my bed as the television played some movie I had probably seen a million times, and a little tiny spark happened. Before ten minutes, I had a story. And I said, "Heck, I'll do it."

After I finished my work, I didn't know what to do. Here was this thing, and it took me some time to finish. I didn't get anything from the app I was creating it for, and I didn't want that to be the end of it. Even though I was WAY too scared to think about actually publishing it, I certainly didn't want it to sit in a computer file somewhere for no one else to see.

I also had a good friend that was reading it as I was releasing each chapter on the app. He was immensely supportive, and he made me believe that it was good. Like really good. He believed it shouldn't stop here either. And I thank you, Tyler.

You know that little voice that says you're in over your head or you're not good enough? That voice in me is not so little. At times, it is full of smoke and shadow and it is always clearer than my own self-confidence. Even through therapy and encouragement from friends and family, I still have very immovable issues with it. It took a lot of convincing and acceptance of the many consequences potential or otherwise, but I finally decided.

To HELL with that little voice.

That damned little voice has been the death of more things that I love...So much talent, so many songs cut short and pictures left unpainted and stories left untold because of an evil, malignant voice.

I was going to actually do it. Even if I fell flat on my face and looked like a hopeful idiot, I was going to publish this book. Even if it only sold to me and my immediate circle (if even that), I was going to publish this book. It wasn't as easy a decision as flipping a switch, but in a way it was. The moment I decided I would do it, there wasn't any going back. There wasn't any fence teetering or anything. When I realized my story's journey couldn't end in an app, I knew that there was only one way for this to go.

So it's weird how there were so many things I was willing to take a risk on before, and yet with a skill I was often told adamantly I had in abundance, I always stopped cold. I wanted to act on the stage and screen (don't laugh), and even though I got support, deep down I knew I wasn't anything that would stand out against all the prettier and more talented Latina actresses around, especially in New Mexico. I wasn't ever going to get my break in acting, and I spent a lot of time fooling myself that I might. I wouldn't change the time I had for anything, mind you. I can honestly look back and say I tried with all I had, but in the end it was just fond memories and lost money.

And when the doctors handed me my first baby, my little man, my whole world changed. I learned to love truly in a way I never fathomed before. And my risks and aspirations would have to be put on hold. I needed to make the securest home for him in the whole world. I felt it was my job to do anything it took so that he didn't ever want for the basics: a home, food, and security. I believed it was my job to do all within my power to make all of this happen even so far as to suffer for my family.

But after nearly losing my second child to a fall at work, losing hours and money as a result, and getting stress induced near strokes, I decided to do something I saw as selfish and leave that job for a slightly lesser paying one.

And the world didn't end.

I did something for me, and the world didn't end. So why not keep it up?

And in the Quentin Tarantino style, we reach the beginning of our post. And now I'm looking out for author interviews, podcasts, indie reviewers...anything to get this going further. My story is worth all the effort I can give it.

I'm worth all the effort.