Yet again my novel is in the hands of my trusty number one editor: my husband. Hopefully my tired eyes haven’t missed anything, and I can finally pass the draft along to my little circle of reviewers. (If it needs more work, I think I might cry. Aren’t fifteen years enough?)
While the thought of feedback is reinvigorating, the truth is that the journey won’t be over yet even if everyone absolutely loves the novel and I am satisfied–if that’s possible. It will still be unpublished.
There are two ways to solve that problem: woo a publisher or publish it myself.
Several friends and family members have gone the self-publishing route. From what I understand, there are fewer hurdles to leap between submitting a manuscript and having a hard covered book on your shelf. At least one company is even associated with Amazon, making it easier (I suppose) for people other than my friends and family to purchase their own copy.
However, I’m leery of defaulting to that path. After fifteen years of work, I don’t want to sell myself short. Perhaps I could get a break. Perhaps some publisher out there will adore the novel and be intrigued by its unique elements. And for that reason, I don’t want to give up without even trying, even though it is the more difficult path.
Of course, it probably is still early to think about. After all, I don’t think my husband is past the second chapter yet, and there’s still a long way to go…