This Eternal Journey

Reedsy Prompt 239. Travelling a road that has no end.

This Eternal Journey

Denise Nisbet 

So very well named, the title of my first book—This Eternal Journey. I was so inspired. Shining eyes, cheeks flushed, huge motivation, I sat that first day at my computer, the words falling from mind to page like a river in spate. I was writing my memoir with all the spiritual insights I’d gathered along the way. I lay awake at night forming new and perfect sentences, only to be forgotten by morning. Darn. Try not to do that. But those wonderful ideas were streaming out. ‘I was born in the best of times’ I wrote. I’m a bit uneasy about that word ‘born’ … is it a bit too primordial? Would it provoke bloody images of birth for my (many many) readers? Never mind, wait and see how it goes. I can always revise. Chapter one, chapter two,     chapter       three,      slower    and     slower …

What was this? I’m slowing down? I just knew that those first chapters were going to lead inexorably on to the following ones, right through to the ending that I actually wasn’t too sure about. Plot your book said the advisors. But I didn’t need to plot my book. This wasn’t a STORY or a NOVEL. This was a memoir of my exciting life, right up until now, written in chronological order and weaving its way through the five different countries I’d lived in, and the many travels in between. In this way one thing would lead to another wouldn’t it?

The title was a passing reference to my spiritual journey although this was still not clear in my own mind, but inspiration, SPIRITUAL inspiration would be my guide. Never mind this plotting business.

One thing I have learned is that we can often mistake coincidences and serendipity and even just ordinary events, for spiritual guidance. Enthusiasm is to blame. It fires us up and off we go, running and running to our goal; the goal we believe in so powerfully.

Here is what Amanda Edgar said in a Reedsy lesson:

‘I bet some of you have actually experienced what happens here — I've seen it in so many authors. What happens is, a lot of times when we set out to write, especially a memoir, you have rehearsed those first chapters in your heads over and over. I heard this just literally from a client this morning: “Oh my gosh, I did not know it was going to get so hard. Those first chapters, I knew exactly what I wanted to say before I even sat down.”

But as you get to chapter two, that's maybe a little harder. Usually, people are okay. When we get to chapters three and four, this is really when I see that people start to struggle.

And what's happening usually — it's what we're talking about today — is that folks don't have a plan.’ 

How did she know that what she described was exactly what happened to me? ‘I’ve seen it in so many authors’ she said, and I was certainly one of those. I had a plan. Inspired writing … and it turns out I am just like everyone else. How deflating.

Amanda wasn’t around while I was writing so I struggled on, and I did finish the book. I gave a sort of dumbed-down Eureka. I wasn’t pleased with it, there were lots of faults. Maybe many authors have that experience. I encouraged myself with ‘it’s good enough’. What next?

Having an editor was suggested, but I’d had my family and a few friends read my finished article. Of course this unbiased group gave excellent ideas and I actually used some of them. I encouraged them to be ruthless, I could take it. I do remember reading somewhere that these folks might not be the best possible judges; or no matter how much they wanted to give good criticism would still feel restraint in that situation; but I ignored that.

Next step? Self-publishing! The Holy Grail. I didn’t have to face rejection from those picky publishers. Hurray!

My self-publishing guides were wonderful. They nurtured the process along but it was soooo long and tedious. Search-enagine optimisation words. What? Categories. But my writing was unique! Trying to better other writers who had the same objectives? Having become a tiny little bit humble I took all those lessons on board. I search-engined and categorised and lied a little bit to get into obscure categories that would, therefore, rank my book higher. And they did, I got a Best Seller banner without selling a book! What’s next?

An editor was again suggested. Oh alright, I gave in. I chose the cheapest, and when it came back I complained. 

“All you did was correct a few words and tidy it up a bit” I grumbled. 

“But that is what you employed me to do,” was the reply.

“Well I thought an editor did a lot more than that,” I said, secretly thinking that probably my writing was so good that it didn’t need much more.

“I think you made a mistake. I am a proofreader, not an editor.”

“What? There’s a difference?”

I was told in a kindly voice that there was a big difference and that I had fallen into a common trap. Even though this very nice gentleman had explained, quite clearly, what he did, it hadn’t registered, and my book was still not edited.

Oh yes, I needed reviews, and again the self-publishing mob I worked with helped and I got some mighty nice reviews. Some of them were even truthful by focusing on what I did do well and ignoring the glaring flaws. Those flaws had been pointed out to me by several beta readers but I was in a hurry. So up it went on Kindle Direct Publishing and Kobo and several others to great fanfare (mostly from me). Now all I had to do was sit back and wait for the money to roll in.

What’s that you said? I should have advertised it on social media. Oh really? So grudgingly I did that in various ways and waited again for the money to roll in.

My free author paperback copies arrived. Every author knows how exciting that is. Wow. I sat and began to read and to squirm. I now had enough distance to realise for myself the truth of some of the comments I’d had. I wasn’t enjoying this at all, and still the money wasn’t rolling, or even dribbling in.

Forget it. 

Put it away and forget it.

I’d fulfilled yet another prophecy; that self-publishing, or even some of those publishing houses that want you to pay them to get your book out there, leads to a nice box of books in your garage. Finito.

So I am wondering why I dug the darn book up again earlier this year, and why I began correcting its many flaws. Again there is some sense of inspiration, but this time I also wrote a plan. And I have arranged to have an editor. And the book does seem much better this time around although, like the proverbial long and winding road, it still has no end.