As of late I have been revising and revising and revising. I found a few things that were contradictory and a few things that just didn't belong. For example I had Rayne arriving at her friend's house at noon and later in the scene she mentions she has to be home by 11...am. Okay what was that all about? Not everything was as simple as that to fix however. When I figured out there were/are things that are slightly more complex (*at this point I am nearly pulling my hair out*) I wanted to give up and was saying to myself, "What the heck do you think you're doing? You can't write a book. You're not an English major! (although I have taken more English classes than the average non-English major)" The rant continues with "What if nobody likes it? What if nobody reads it?" Then something dawned on me. I started questioning myself about why I was writing. I originally started writing for me and to develop any talent God gave me. Then casually as a few people I knew and met started getting interested I started writing for them as well, but somewhere along the line I started to buy into the thing about publishing for a lot of people and that is where I forgot about the real reason for writing this book--I love to write. Stories forming from dreams and thoughts that need to be put down on paper because they are nice to read and reflect upon later. Stories that I can explain better by writing than by speaking.
My recommendation for anyone out there writing their own book, is that you remember the reason you are writing and who you are writing for. The only thing wrong with hoping for your book to get published and make it big is if you sacrifice your love of writing.