We finally made it to the holidays. I say finally, because this is the time of year I tend to force myself to slow down while at the same time, begin planning for the new year.
Publishing your first book, on a good day, is stressful but slap 2020 on it and it's next level. Between the corona virus and the presidential election, I strongly considered putting everything on ice and wait for 2021. To be honest, I'm glad I didn't. Not only would the world continue with or without my little debut but had I postponed, I would have been left with what helped me create Hardpressed in the first place, my overactive imagination. Only without writing, editing, revising, marketing and so on, I would have used that energy to fixate on the world falling apart around me, around us.
This year has taken a toll on my mental health and I think it's safe to say that many of you reading this right now would say the same. 2020 didn't create my anxiety but it has tested my ability to manage it. Anyone who struggles with mental health knows there's no quick fix, no magic pill and it's a daily struggle to find what works best for you. Any regiment, method I had in place, was turned on it's head earlier this year.
Somehow, I still managed to publish a book I'm proud of and a short story right behind it. I didn't get to have the party I'd envisioned when thinking about release day, no raising of glasses. Instead, when it went live, I released a breath I'd been holding for who knows how long and silent tears fell. I'd actually done it. At 44 years of age, I'd published my first novel. I hope to publish many more in my lifetime but no matter what, I will always look back on 2020 with mixed feelings but with ultimate knowledge that even with the world on fire, I made my dream come true and it's just the beginning.
Happy holidays to you and yours and here's to a brighter 2021!