Run Away...

A week from today, I'll be packing for one of the biggest events of my year--the ACFW conference. I've been to conferences before, some absolutely huge (try MLA--Modern Language Association--for starters). I've presented my writing at the College English Association conference, several local university-based conferences, and even in front of semi-drunk people at a open mic night. I've invested well over a thousand dollars of hard-earned money into this conference. I've lined up roommates for hotel rooms, carpoolers to split fuel costs, and even a few author friends to try to meet up with for lunch sometime. I've done extremely heavy revisions on my novel and I know (by English professor standards) that it's in pretty good shape. It seems like everything is falling into place perfectly.

And I'm terrified.

I do get nervous before big events where I'll be the center or part of the center of attention. This is different. I'm having massive doubts. I look at my novel and think, "You're a nonfictionist. You have no formal training in fiction, at least not at the college level. There's probably still a handful of head-jumping moments in there. The writers or high-level readers you've asked to read the book have never gotten through it. You'll never be able to sell this thing! No one is going to want to read this! Who are you kidding?"

Yeah, pretty brutal. What's worse is that it's partially true. The few people with good writing skills haven't finished the book--although they have also been extraordinarily busy lately. I didn't take any specialized fiction courses in college. I know there are still aspects of fiction that I need to learn, more that I need to read, more that I need to study. I know I don't manage my time nearly well enough to accommodate three jobs, a church family, a boyfriend, my own family, and my writing. With the economy, I know first-time authors are a dime a dozen and my chances are naturally slim. If it wasn't for all the promises I made, arrangements settled, and money invested, I'd be highly tempted to hide out and make excuses for not following through.

Seriously? You can still see me? Dude...need new hiding place, like now!

A Daughter's Heart is not in perfect condition. I know that. It's probably not the best novel I'll ever write (I think my trilogy in the works already is shaping up better). But it is a good story. It does have real issues with trust and faith to be worked out. It does have good grammar and syntax (I am a professor, after all). It does have great potential. As much as I wish it could be better, I'm also proud of my novel baby. Not everyone actually finishes a novel...and not to toot my own horn, but not everyone can piece a story together well. I'm not saying I'm superb at this, but it's better than a lot of things I've read.

Still the fear and anxiety niggle at me constantly. What if no one likes it? What if no one gives me a chance? What if I get so nervous I pick the wrong words to speak? What if I completely ruin my career as an author before I even start? Is the fact that I have a completed manuscript enough to begin marketing it, or should I wait until I'm more advanced as a fiction writer?

If your questions and doubts have gotten so big that not only do they make a fairly comfortable sitting place but you are also hard-pressed to figure out how to get down without twisting an ankle...it's time to do something about it.

I can hear the twisted logic in my fears and questions, but that doesn't soothe the anxiety much. I want so badly to be published, to start this next chapter in my life (insert pun-groan here). Right now I could use a good dose of courage and strength...the real stuff, not the kind mixed into chocolate and other sugar-happy food that I so depend on.

Although there are limits as to how brave chocolate can make you...

So I'm off to pray, to hand God my worries and concerns and fears. I'll stop being somewhat of a hypocrite and practice what I preach--God is in control, not me, and it's better off that way.