'End' is Such an Empty Word

End. As I finished typing the word, I fell back into my computer chair and stared at the screen. The cursor blinked on the document page as if it were tempting me to write more like it always had, but this time there was no more.

I rarely finish things, so the blinking of the cursor didn’t seem as foreboding as it used to. It usually foretold of long periods of time staring at an unfinished story, the cursor beckoning to me to just do something. I had started writing today with that feeling, but I ended it with just three simple words.

I finally finished my first longer piece of work. 135 pages in Google Docs, 55,796 words, and page after page of an emotional rollercoaster. It all started as a dream I’d had one night a year or so ago, and it ended up blooming into this gigantic, complex, crazy world. I never thought I would see it to the end, and I can’t say I won’t miss the journey.

I feel a bit empty now that my biggest project is finally complete. I’m so used to unfinished things that I always felt complete in that vastness of incomplete work. I always had something to do and some work to look forward to.

Now? I hear crickets. The tension has left my muscles and I am breathing calmly, and I am staring at three simple letters that have caused me so many emotions.

It may seem silly to be so excited over this. There are authors out there who have published several books and continue on to their next project, not skipping a beat. But for someone like me, who has little to no self-esteem or faith in myself to accomplish anything, to finish this book is to accomplish a huge goal I set for myself.

The next steps will probably be much harder. It always is as you climb up the endless ladder of goal-setting.

Now, to edit all of these pages. I have to go back through it and make a second draft and a third, and possibly a fourth. Then the formatting, the query letter, the summary that’s good enough to sell, and submissions to agents with no prior experience of my own to speak of.

I’ll need one to navigate this hell I’ve just opened up for myself. I’ve already attempted to gather beta readers, close friends and friends from afar, but I've yet to hear anything back.

I decided to take matters into my own hands since my support system is so small. I’ve accepted that I’m likely on my own for this one and no amount of teeth pulling and pestering is going to get me a response — aside from the usual defensiveness or endless reasons as to why no one can seem to find time for my manuscript, that they volunteered for, but have hours to post memes and watch endless Facebook and YouTube videos.

If I sound bitter, I admit that I am. Not so much bitter as I am hurt.

I wish I possessed the key to unlock this magical support system I see so many with. Reaching out for help has mostly resulted in silence. I see others receive answers where I am ignored, and I see friends uplifting and promoting other friends’ work but not mine.

At first, I was afraid it was because I was no good as a writer, but I can't possibly know if no one will take the time to just skim what I've written.

It genuinely makes me feel undervalued as a friend, and I wonder what my friends’ friends do that is worthy of their support but for some reason, I am not.

I promote others and help where I can. I support all of my friends when I can as well, which usually means sharing their art, reading their writing, or sharing their business posts. I've even purchased items from friends, but I do it all because I genuinely want to. They're my friends, so I should want to support people I love.

It stings to not feel that love back. I can be humble until I’m blue in the face, but in the end, it gets frustrating when you put hours or a year or more into something and no one will bother to open the document, and this is despite their claims of the synopsis sounding very interesting and good. I’ve gotten that opinion across the board when I give the synopsis.

So why, then, can’t I get anyone to open to the first page?

Maybe they genuinely don’t care. Maybe I’m not worth their time. Maybe I am fooling myself and people are just being kind so they don't hurt my feelings. But I can't get answers if no one will tell me anything, good or bad. Other writers who have written things that aren’t up to par get feedback somehow.

It’s endlessly frustrating and I’ve found myself close to screaming out in frustration.

How do you figure out how to not be invisible? How, even though you speak so loudly, approach people directly, and try with all your might to do everything in your power to be heard, even among loved ones, only to be ignored? My whole life I have felt like a ghost drifting amongst people, and at times I feel only a few can even see and hear me.

Being invisible when you work so hard to not be is exhausting. I know I started this entry with a positive outlook, and I still have that, but it brought up so many other feelings I’ve been dealing with throughout this process. It doesn’t feel good to know you have something you’re very proud of to tell the world, and no one will listen.

To end on a lighter note, I am proud of my work. I am proud of myself for accomplishing the feat of writing an entire book to completion, and I am happy that I can continue to write even though I may be the only one reading it. I can only dream that one day I won’t have to say that and I can have others enjoy these things with me.