On Dogs and Kickstarters

I spent the better part of October and November stressed out of my mind trying to get things ready for my Kickstarter preview page to go live. Part of the stress was simple unknowns, but others, admittedly, was because I underestimated how finnicky even a modest budget breakdown could become. I've always been something of a perfectionist and I was determined to...well, make everything perfect, for both myself and my readers / potential patrons. (In some respects that hasn't changed, but more on that in a minute.) I was nonetheless glad when I managed met my self-imposed deadline, yet in the decompression phase thereafter I began to reflect. In that reflective week, two things happened.

The first was a conversation with a friend, one of my ARC readers. She and I went to college together, albeit in different majors, and shared a home for nearly three years during that time. In other words, she knows how much my writing career means to me, and expressed pride in what I'd accomplished. Specifically, she said, "I remember how writing made you feel and your love of it".

This may not seem like much, but I was a little taken aback at first. I'd spent so long engrossed in the business of my book – and let's be under no illusion that it isn't – that I'd forgotten why I'd written the thing in the first place. It made me look back at a private log I update here and there detailing my self-publishing journey, the latest entry of which I'd recently completed and signed off with a "I really hope it [the to-do lists, stress, and inevitable disappointments] won’t spoil the joy of holding a physical copy in my hands for the first time." It was like an out-of-body experience – how had I come to feel this way?

The second was quick on its heels. Our anxious and sweet Shepinois, Molly, will be ten years old come March. For big dogs like her, that's getting up there. She's happy and healthy, with the exception of a (benign) fatty tumor on her side. It doesn't hurt her and isn't a danger, but it can't be anything but uncomfortable and has grown larger, to the point where it is undoubtedly the first thing you'd notice about her. That it's grown means that if we don't do something, it is going to start affecting her movement. Getting it removed will be a major surgery and will cost a significant chunk of change. 

Dear Reader, I cannot in good conscience prolong her discomfort, at her age, for the sake of materials for a crowdfunding campaign I do not need in order for my book to come to life. Because the book will be published March 1st, come hell or high water. The campaign was intended as both a way for me to do something special for my first readers – a little virtual party, as it were – and maybe generate a little buzz before the book arrived in the spring. While it would have been nice to have that party before launch, now that I've taken a step back and re-prioritized, I see that I may have been able to make it work, but it wouldn't have suited me. This book is for the love of it, not chasing someone else's ideas of what I need to do in order to have a successful launch or start my career.

This isn't to say that I won't have a campaign later. I'd like to, very much, and I'm glad I went ahead and had the learning curve with the set-up. But I think I will do us all a bigger service by waiting. Not only will there be more of us at this party, but I'll be able to offer more than I can right now. It also doesn't mean I have nothing planned for the run-up to March, because I do! Again, though: the heart needs to be in the right place, otherwise it'll be a hollow victory. 

Stay tuned, and send some good thoughts Molly's way!