When my publisher contacted me with the tentative offer of a contract, I got very excited. Which, if you know me, doesn’t really happen all that often. ‘Giddy’ isn’t an adjective people associate with my face. After the initial five minute high, though, I got to thinking. That’s what always messes me up, thinking.
I’d been working alone for years. My writing schedule was my own, my choice of project was my own, my creative decisions were my own. Once I signed that contract, though, I wasn’t alone. I would have obligations and timelines and other people depending on me and my creative drive.
That’s a huge change. Going from a one-man shop to part of a highly-specialized team. Could I do it? I’m not a hermit, in my day job I work with and around other people all the time. But this was my writing. My soul. Could I share it?
I really did have to consider this carefully, and it took me more than a day, including an almost completely sleep-free night. Getting published was my end-game. The ultimate conclusion to all the effort I’d been putting in. Of course I had to sign the contract. Right?
I did sign, and I know that things are going to change. I’ve entered into a partnership, there’s a quid pro quo. My hobby is now my business. I’m going to have to roll with the punches, and I anticipate I’m going to take a lot of punches. But the end result will be worth it.
Next – The Contract, part 1