It Sounded Better in My Head: Which Road Should I Take?

Right now, I am reviewing the audio version of my book—and it sounds nothing like the book I heard in my head.

In my imagination, it was fabulous.

Now, hearing every word read aloud, I cringe. I notice the repetitions, the stories I could have told better, and the lessons that suddenly sound too obvious or trite. Part of me wants to pull the book back and spend another year rewriting it.

I am not a trained writer, and I am mortified by every mistake. I keep asking myself: Who am I to write a book?

Do I really want to publish something people might criticize—or even ridicule? Do I want to expose my imperfect writing, my imperfect stories, and, ultimately, myself?

The book is so close to being finished, and there is already so much momentum carrying it forward. If I stopped everything now, would I truly rewrite it and make it better? Or would it sit on my shelf for another year—or forever?

Would another round of editing make it perfect?

Of course not.

At some point, rewriting can become another name for hiding.

So I have decided to move forward—complete with the occasional repetition, imperfect sentence, and passage that may make me, and possibly you, cringe a little.

I decided to write the book, and now I am deciding to let it be read.

I keep returning to Marianne Williamson’s reminder that when we let our own light shine and free ourselves from fear, we give other people permission to do the same.

I hope The Whistler’s Daughter touches people—not because it is perfectly written, but because it is honest.

Maybe someone will recognize a piece of themselves in my story. Maybe it will encourage someone to try something frightening, begin again, or stop waiting until they feel completely ready.

More than half of Americans dream of writing a book, but only a small percentage ever finish one. I comfort myself with the fact that I finished mine. I took the memories out of my head, put them on paper, and carried them all the way to publication.

The book may not be perfect, but neither is the life it describes.

And perhaps publishing something imperfect is one more way of living its message:

Do it afraid.