V. H. King's Ink

The books are printed!

The labels have arrived!

The anxiety is spiking!

If I’m going to panic about something, it might as well be about something I love. As I told my dad the other day–I’m always going to have anxiety. I might as well do what I love, even if I have no idea how it’ll turn out.

It’s so easy to say. When I’m filling orders or editing a draft for the thousandth time, it’s harder to hold on to. Because what if? What If? wHAT iF??? Those two words don’t even make it through my head. There’s just the feeling of ??? plus two helpings of !!! and my own weak reminders to take a deep breath and trust everything will be okay.

Why the anxiety?

Anxiety doesn’t need a reason, so reasoning my way through it often feels like a waste of time. It’s easy for me to spend a lot of time worrying about the worst possible outcome. The best possible outcome–or something better than what I can imagine for myself–usually feels just as terrifying. So many people seem to have big dreams for me. Is it better or worse than high expectations? I don’t consider myself to be great, but I don’t want to let down the people who are so sure that I am.

I could try to ignore all of my feelings, but that’s just as bad as only focusing on my fears. I’m going to try to take comfort–and even joy!–in the fact that people want to read my words. I hope they enjoy them, and I’m glad for the opportunity to share my work. And with that in mind, I’ll keep working–because I have plenty of projects that need my attention.

I hope to share more of my work soon, even if these jitters keep bugging me. At the end of the day, I don’t write to fulfill other’s expectations. I write because I have to. I write because stories were given to me. Sending out this first shipment of Between Cracks in the Concrete is a reminder that my stories don’t have to be perfect in order for me to share them with you.

And you know what?

I don’t have to be perfect either.