I'm not good at waiting.
Yesterday I took part in a free PR day hosted by someone who knows what they're doing. Experienced authors took part who all seemed savvy to what was happening. Then there was me...the newbie. I quickly realized I was probably about a month too early for everything happening, but I kept going anyway. To say I was out of my comfort zone is an understatement, yet an accurate description of how I felt.
Ask me about plot twists, character development, or pace and I'll have an answer. In fact, I'll probably have a long-winded and passionate response to those questions. I've got the writing down. I get it. Writing a novel or a non-fiction book is natural for me. It's my thing, my niche, my groove.
This stuff...this self-promotion lingo...feels weird. I know stepping out of my comfort zone and putting myself out there in the world is all about growing as a person, yet it's scary. I feel like a bird who's been kicked out of the nest...my wings haven't been tested so now I'm skipping in a zig-zag like pattern through the air praying I don't crash into the ground.
I'm learning, making connections, figuring it out as I go. Realistically, yes, I'm probably a month ahead of the game. Oh well. Now I know. The beauty of being out of my comfort zone is that I cannot fail. I can only zig-zag, dip, dart, adapt and aim for the sky.