Sending My Baby Out to the Slaughter


Today I sent my novel, Tabeth: Opening Eternity, out to an editor. I feel like I sent my baby out to the Slaughterhouse. WHAT DID I DO! She wasn’t ready! She should have been gone over at least five more times! How could I DO such a thing?? How could I be so cruel? Why didn’t I wait? SHES BARELY STANDING ON HER OWN!!!!


Truth is, I know Tabeth will be far better off for the slicing and dicing she will receive. The real reason for my mild panic attack is the fact that another human being, one that is knowledgeable and educated in both the technical side of writing and the organic pleasure a work of fiction is meant to bring to the reader, is actually about to… READ IT.


As long as it’s Top Secret, nobody can kill the fantasy, right? Yet I remind myself that the Dream is to share this with the world. The Dream is to have people read it and somehow open their eyes to alternate possibilities Maybe even learn something of themselves. Those are the truly good books, right? Entertaining, engrossing, and touch your soul in some way that makes it impossible for you to ever forget it. THAT is the Dream, right? (I nod to myself, yes this is the DREAM.)

To get my baby to that grand point, I know I must shove it in the Slaughter-House door. Even if it comes back looking like this:

Text correction elements

I must welcome the red ink and not so flattering comments. I must chew, then swallow, the suggestions so generously given.  I must then pull the raw, red-hot metal out of the forge and beat my poor baby into something at least resembling the sword I Dream her to be! And when that day comes, when I see a sword instead of a raw lump in the shape of a sword, then I will thrust her back out into a Killing Field full of copy editors, beta readers, and finally….. GASP! readers. Most likely with another whiny post bemoaning my loss as I chew all my fingernails off.


Special shout out to my Editor: Trish Jackson

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