My wife went to a music festival in Orlando last fall. Alone with the dogs for the weekend, I decided to do something I had always wanted . . . to start writing a novel!
After roughly two months, I had finished the manuscript for The Fifteenth of June. I had initially titled it Stuck in One Spot, but my fabulous editor, Laura Mae Isaacman, persuaded me to rename it, and I’m glad she did.
Typing the first keystroke to self-publishing my debut novel took about four months in total, even though it felt like an eternity at times. Almost every day I told myself, “This might turn out to be the worst novel ever, but it’s worth a shot.”
I think I repeated that to myself so often because the thought of someone reading my work—let alone choosing an editor to dissect it—was terrifying.