My blindness to the difference between creating at the keyboard and formatting a document came from all the business writing I was doing. In 1997, I’d made a career change from server administration to software development. I’d begun coding, first on Lotus Notes platforms, and then on Java. By the turn of the century I’d switched jobs and was lead developer at a Fortune 500 company. One of my first assignments was writing an RFP, or Request for Proposal.
The first word processor I ever used extensively was WordPerfect, in high school. I’d write articles and my serialized story for the school newspaper, papers when I could (since I didn’t own a computer), and anything else I had a chance to write, since the experience was so much better than the typewriter I had at home.
Over the weekend, I started shipping books. This was something I’d planned for, and of course I wanted to maximize my efficiency in several ways:
Release day is finally here. Today, I go from “aspiring” novelist to novelist. There’s a huge leap between “aspiring” and what comes after that. One is a dream or a possibility; the other is the reality, which may not correspond to all the hopes and dreams that go with “aspiring.”
There’s a phrase people use when talking about a task they can do competently: if it were easy, everybody would do it. Publishing, and particularly self-publishing, is like that. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you can try taking the easy (and expensive) path: pay some service to do everything for you. I’m publishing my first novel, so you could argue that I don’t know what I’m doing, since I haven’t done it before. But paying a service to do it for me is not my way, as anybody who knows me will attest.