This is not so much a post as a kind of public journal entry by someone who doesn’t keep a journal. For that reason I’m turning comments off.
So…what is this collision of realities? It’s that odd moment in a writer’s life when she hands a physical copy of her book to someone else, for the very first time.
The books are the original proof copies of the Innerscape saga and the someone else is my neighbour. He’s a very nice man and a voracious reader, but I have no idea whether he has ever read a sci-fi book in his life. More to the point, I have no idea how he will cope with some of the scenes and language in the books.
I decided a long time ago that I was not going to self-censor my writing on the basis of what others might think of me. I kept to that pledge for Vokhtah, and I kept to it for Innerscape. But. It’s so much easier being devil-may-care about a relative stranger than it is about someone you see when you put out the rubbish or go to check the mail.
I’m not exactly worried. Just a little…unsettled. I’ve dreamt of handing my books out to real, live people for a very long time, but of course in those daydreams, the people are all adoring fans and they think the story is wonderful…
Ouch. Now I remember why I’ve never liked keeping a journal. Some egotistical imaginings should never see the light of day. In any format.
Okay, well I’m not deleting this so I’ll just pull up my big girl pants and live with it.