I’m a lucky ass bastard.
I was very lucky to find an editor that liked my book, and I must recognize that it is a privilege that most writers don’t get to experience.
Writing any sort of thing is 10% talent, 50% exposure, and 40% luck. I know a lot of people who are a lot more prepared, a lot more creative, and, overall, a lot better than I am yet didn’t have the chance to publish.
It’s very strange, knowing that my name is relevant now. I mean, they’re talking about releasing it in over 100 stores nationwide and possibly publishing outside Latin America: It is insane.
Of course it is a privilege, but a very strange one. It’s not that I feel that I don’t deserve this, it’s just that I feel that some people deserve it a lot more.
A friend of mine always yaps about her notion of egoism around authors.
“How dare you write?” she said, with absolute seriousness, and I didn’t have an answer. How dare I assume my thoughts are worthy of exposure? The truth is that only someone who wants to be read publishes, and most people who write want to publish. So why did I write?
But maybe it’s more about the social responsibility of publishing something. Much like that stupid game from 2013, flappy bird, sometimes it’s healthier if we stop our monster from continuing its path than it is to let it live.
I’m very worried about the reviews for my novel. I of course want to see what people think about it, but I’m terrified that someone will see my bluff.
That someone realizes that I have no experience and that my book maybe doesn’t deserve shelf space. Maybe they realize that it’s nothing.
My literature teacher from 10th grade is one of those people, he could disarm my book in a matter of seconds. He’s a published author too, and one of many that are more competent than I am.
Did he ever get to 100 stores? Man, I doubt it, and it is a shame. It seems like the world is very unfair with some people and I can’t stand it. But I did dare to write the book, perhaps deep down I really just wanted to be told that it sucked in order to let go of my frustrated dream of being a journalist.
If it had happened that way, if the editor had shut it down from the first instance, I’ve be hurt... But I wouldn’t be worried that they let me publish in lieu of someone who might be better.