Late last Thursday night I finally hit the key to send my manuscript to my editor. What a scary, scary moment. It was such a hard thing to do.
Since then I've been reading reviews of other books on similar themes. Some of the reviews are not so favourable and now, although I'm desperate for my book to be published, I'm also dreading its reception. Will it get poor reviews or, worse still really, no reviews at all? Will it sink unnoticed into what's increasingly looking like an overcrowded field? What's so special about my book anyway? Isn't it sentimental and self indulgent? Why would anyone want to read about my specific experience? The publisher accepted the manuscript on the basis of the first ten chapters, which were all I'd written at that time. That was exciting then. Now I worry that they'll hate the rest of the book.
All this has taken me by surprise. I stupidly believed all my self doubt would be gone by now. First there's the worry that you can actually finish your project, then the worry that it'll be accepted for publication. I thought that those would be the big ones and that afterwards I'd be full of confidence, but it's not like that at all. And still to come, I'm sure, are concerns I haven't even thought of yet.
I don't know how long it will be till I receive the marked up manuscript. Meanwhile I remain in limbo, worrying.