Writing a book feels like wrestling a giant squid sometimes—messy, exhausting, but weirdly exhilarating. My first draft was a disaster, full of half-baked ideas and characters who changed names mid-chapter. What saved me was treating it like a daily habit, even just 200 words before bed. I scribbled on napkins, voice-recorded dialogue while walking, and devoured books on structure like 'Save the Cat Writes a Novel.'
Publishing? That’s a whole other beast. After 37 rejections (yes, I counted), I finally landed an agent by obsessively tailoring queries to each agency’s vibe. Meanwhile, my friend went indie—hired an editor from Reedsy, designed a cover on Canva, and now runs Kickstarters for special editions. Both paths require thick skin and celebrating tiny wins, like when a beta reader gasped at your plot twist.