Okay, PAUSE. Pull your mind out of that dark place it no doubt went to. What I did wasn't illegal or immoral. All right, all right...a little immoral. Or "not nice" is the term I'd prefer to use.
Last weekend I was at a Barnes & Noble with my three younger sisters, and I happened to see a book. But not just any book. This novel was a young adult twist on "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." And the writing was really, really good.
I will admit that I wallowed.
I collapsed in front of the shelf and stared at the book in my hands: traditionally published, pretty (if slightly creepy) cover, and four stars--FOUR STARS (do you have any idea how hard that is?!)--on Goodreads.
In this moment I questioned my WIP, "Underland," and the very framework of why I wanted to be a writer.
My youngest sister snatched the book out of my hands (title which shall remain anonymous) and put it back on the shelf. She then covered it with other novels. Out of sight out of mind, right?
Except I felt really guilty about it. I mean, what if that small act had cost the writer sales? She didn't deserve that! So, days later, due to my guilty conscience, I checked her book out at the library. Currently it's sitting on my nightstand, waiting to be read.
And I will be reading it. Why?
Because, after my brief plummet into despair, I realized something monumental.
So maybe her book is already published. And tons of people like it. Okay, so it has a similar premise to mine, being based off the same classic.
But you know what? I love my book, my characters, the world I built for them. Weirdly, I find myself missing (yes, actually missing) them when I'm not writing. I owe it to Jenny, Hatter, March, the Duchess, Dory, Theodora... I owe it to them to keep writing.
And I owe it to myself.
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