So I Guess I'm an Author Now? That Happened.

You know when you turn 10 and everyone asks you on your birthday if you feel older than you did when you were 9? And you feel exactly the same but you feel like you're supposed to feel older and somehow by not feeling older you aren't mature enough and maybe you don't deserve to be 10 so you lie through your teeth and say "Yeah, so much older!"

Nope? Just me? Okay.

That's kind of what being a published author feels like.

I had this amalgamation of words in an InDesign file and now it's published, and sure, I have physical copies of it now, but I still have the InDesign file and the illusion that it isn't complete yet. Not really.

Signing copies of my book. Is this real?

Maybe because I'm twenty-two, I don't feel like I deserve to be an author yet. I haven't earned that title. But how else would I earn it other than by publishing a book?

Maybe I need to sit down and talk to someone who has read the book and see what they think. Or maybe I need to see it on a shelf in a book store. Or maybe if I sell enough copies, I'll feel like it's actually real and not some giant joke I'm playing on myself.

But it is real. I just don't feel like I deserve the title "author" just yet. But maybe it's because I don't know what an author is supposed to feel like. Do you just wake up one day and feel like an author? I haven't stopped writing since the book was published, and I certainly feel like a writer. I've felt like a writer ever since the first grade; I just use fancier language and more semicolons now.

Screen grab from the adapted film

All I know is that the real work has only just begun. I have my character's story, and I owe it to her to make sure her story gets told. I know that her story has the capacity to change the perceptions of mental illness and relational abuse on an individual level, and I owe it to everyone who has ever suffered at the hands of either to make sure they know they aren't alone.

Throughout this process, I've continually referred to the last poem in the piece.

i am

I want the light in my eyes

To be contagious, want the

Sinew in my thighs to evoke

Another’s self-forgiveness.

I want my toes to teach

Her that it was never a sin

To dance. I want my neck to

Be held high enough to be a beacon,

I want my ears to believe that

Listening is life changing. I want

My heart to be an organ

That belongs to itself, not donated

At another’s discretion. I want

My fire to burn roses because

I am a gift unto myself.

I know so many people that need to whisper that last line to themselves often enough so they start to believe it.

If you're interested in hearing the rest of Cassidy's story, be sure to check it out on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

If you want to read more of the poetry before purchasing, check out the previous blog about the Crown of Sonnets based on Panic! at the Disco lyrics.

I really hope you enjoy this book that I've spent countless hours and tears crafting.

As always #supportstarvingartists.