I thought nothing could beat the feeling of holding my debut Young Adult novel in my hands. Though I wasn’t far off (it did indeed feel incredible) it didn’t compare to the tidal wave of love and support I’ve had since Oh My Gods hit shelves. Ex-colleagues and old schoolmates sent me pics of my book in shops and on their shelves with their congratulations. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and I went to bed on release day with a headache from smiling so much. Nothing prepared me for how wonderful it would feel to see readers excited about my book.
But let’s go back a little. Back to when the thought of seeing my book in the hands of excited readers was simply a daydream. I’d wanted to write for years but always found a way to put it off. When I did sit down, I had to deal with the little monster in my head telling me it was a waste of time. Nothing I write will ever come close to my favourite writers, so why bother? Combine that with a full-time job, relationships to maintain, the lure of Twitter... Before you know it, working on that book slips to the bottom of the pile and months go by before you write another word.
At least, that’s what happened to me. I would resolve to write and scare myself away before I’d even opened my laptop. I talked about the book idea I had, listed writing as a hobby in my online dating profiles and described myself as an ‘aspiring writer.’ Yet where were the words? Something had to change, otherwise, this story I wanted to tell would stay locked in my mind forever.