The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside.
Couldn’t keep it in, Heaven knows I tried.
Don’t let them in, don’t let them see.
Be the good girl you always have to be.
Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know.
Well, now they know!1

Let it go, let it go!
Can’t hold it back any more.
Let it go, let it go!
Turn away and slam the door.
I don’t care what they’re going to say.
Let the storm rage on.
The cold never bothered me anyway.

“Let it Go” from Frozen, songwriters ROBERT LOPEZ, KRISTEN ANDERSON-LOPEZ, EMANUEL KIRIAKOU

OK, I have a soft spot for Disney movies.  Indulge me because, like a Disney Princess, I have been on a long journey. Exasperating, arduous, sometimes hopeless. But the long slog through the endless winter of my journey to become a published author has finally begun to bear fruit.

My novel, In the Heart of Texas, will be released in October of this year by She Writes Press.

Well-meaning friends and loved ones don’t always realize or understand how difficult the dynamics of pursuing publishing opportunities has become.  Why it has taken me so long to get to this point.  Was I just making excuses or pretending to be working on something to pump up my ego or justify my existence or worth?  No.  It is hard to explain, and I no longer try. I am just grateful that my unwillingness to give up on my goal to become a published author remained my primary focus despite the obstacles, the doubts, the self-doubts, the head-scratching, the countless rejections and roadblocks.

Now that I have a (new) publisher (long story), the latest “hurdle,” though that may be too strong a description, is actually putting my story in print and letting it go. Some will love it, some will not. Some will criticize the work, some will criticize me personally. Some will send me praise and support. It feels like I’m about to walk naked down Main Street. I was a reserved kid who expressed myself better in writing than with spoken words. Despite shaking off my shyness in adulthood. I still am sharper and more quick-witted in print than in voice (hence, my comfort with social media). Revealing my fiction writing to the world, my authentic inner voice, is like disrobing – scary as Hell, and possibly revolting to others, but liberating.

Perhaps this is the perfect point in my life to “let it go” and let my work enter the public ether. For I finally have reached the point where I have little shame, where I can accept judgment and continue to move forward, where its more important that I have taken a risk on myself and “done my thing,” for better or worse, than doing something with the purpose of pleasing others.

It’s scary, but exhilarating and in sync with what I feel in my gut.  Which has to be a good thing.