On Begining Again

I have a confession to make, I love Mondays. There's something about the first day of the week (okay, I know technically Sunday is the first day of the week) that gets me motivated to start over and do better. Monday is a great day to re-start that diet, that exercise program (yes, I am writing this from my treadmill) or to dive in to a new project. It's almost like every Monday can be a new January 1st.

So, today I'm blogging again. I haven't blogged since the day BREAKING BEAUTIFUL released. I feel bad for that, but I also feel like I needed the break.

I firmly believe there is something called "post-par-tum book depression." When you release a book, just like when you have a baby, you have all of this anticipation that you have built up for months, years, even a lifetime. And then it happens. And maybe nobody cares about it as much as you do. And maybe your baby isn't as well-received in the outside world as you thought it would be. And maybe there's still a lot of work ahead.

Baby, or book, all of these things are true. (I've been through both.) Granted, my book didn't need to be fed every two hours all night long like my four babies did, but it has kept me up at night. On the other hand, no one will ever publicly post a one star review of any of my children (at least I hope not).

It's hard to come to the end of a journey. It's hard to release something you have worked on for so many months or years out into the world. Even if everything happens according to your expectations (and it never does) there is still a feeling of being let down. All this build-up for this?

In the middle of enjoying, agonizing, and coming to grips with all the realities of my first "child of paper"  shelves, I was writing my second book, so I was also experiencing "second book syndrome" angst.
Book two was way harder for me to write than book one. Maybe because I was writing it based on a proposal and on deadline. Maybe because I was afraid it would never live up to my first book. Maybe because I was afraid that this second book would expose me as a fraud. One book, sure, but two? Who does she think she's kidding?

Boy, it really sounds like I'm complaining. I'm not. I woke up this morning to a quiet house, (one of the benefits of summer with older kids) a beautiful summer day, and a head filled with new ideas to write about. For the first time in a while, the blank computer screen doesn't scare me. I'm excited to write. I'm excited to begin again.

Not that I didn't enjoy writing my second book. I love my second child of paper (as hard as it was to bring to this point) as much as I love my first. I'm excited to get edit notes and make it better.

But today, I'm excited to move forward. I'm excited to begin again.