Emotionally
drained, and creatively crippled. It’s the best way to describe how I feel
about now. It seems no matter what I try to do, no matter how patient I wait or
understanding I am, I cannot feel any less than taken advantage of. I know and
understand life happens, I live it too! And yet when one thing after another
occurs beyond my control, I cannot help but feel helpless.
In
truth, I have had a quarter of my yearly income sink into my book for purposes
of making it a better story, to have it become something more than I couldn’t bring
it to be. Promise after promise was made, and I understood, I didn’t mind
waiting a few weeks more, a few months more. Yet, when it comes down to the
wire, when it was PROMISED to be completely… I felt betrayed.
GREATLY
betrayed.
Did
I not give enough notice? Was this all my doing?
How
could someone who has a book for nearly a year not have it ready?
Am
I nothing more than an unknown author, whose project could wait another day as
other, more established authors get their work completed? Did they even really
start on this project or was this a back burner deal? Was it because I had no
choice but to pay in installments, and yet still worked my ass off to get the
money to them as fast as I could with the sense that my work would be treated
the same way?
It
has become a harsh lesson and experience for me. Whether or not I will be
requiring this editor’s services again will depend on the book itself when it
finally returns to my hands and I see a difference in it since sending it on its
way. I have come close to breaking down in tears, for those who know me, it’s
not something I do. Yet time and time again, I have come close. Even as I write
this I can feel the tears welding in my eyes.
Over
14 years of work, 14 years of my life has gone into that single book, that one
piece of work. I only feel denied to have it.
I
cannot hold any negativity in this, it does me no good or anyone else. I will
not go on and smear the name of the editor I hired. As I said, life happens and
I do not hold it against them.
I
only wished that they didn’t constantly get my hopes up, make me promises not
even they could keep. If they had too many project to do, I would have
understood instead of preparing to have books ready for this single event I
plan for months in advance.
I have great intent on going to a local comic
con this year with the book in hand to gain hopefully some sort of interest. I
don’t even know if it will happen anymore. There are people I admired who never
come to Canada, and yet they are here for the first time in ten years or so
doing public appearances. The one time I have to give them a book as a thank
you for the inspiration, the years of creativity and for being an unlikely
muse.
I
may never get another chance like this.
It
was the whole reason I took time off of work, despite my hours no longer being
there. It’s the reason why I paid the extra money to go for a day or two more
in hopes of seeing everyone I wanted to see and giving my thanks. It is the one
place I have on making connections and hope to farther my book for the better.
I
need a miracle.
Simple
as that.
