The Curtain Rises

I've been here before—a long time ago, when performance was all I lived for. I remember the way I'd hold my breath before the stage lights fell over me. I remember those precious few moments in darkness before I'd flash into view before an expectant audience.

I used to hate that feeling—of being on display, of having to perform, of my every move being evaluated by people who couldn't fathom half the work I put into putting on a show.

But this time is different. This time, the light isn't as cold. The audience isn't glaring back at me like a pack of hungry wolves. No one's voice but my own is whispering in my ear, and instead of warning me of all the potential failures and slip-ups, all I hear now is "Keep going. This is only the beginning." And this time, I'm not blocking out that voice.

I've dreamed of little else besides publishing since I finished the first draft of Unraveled in 2019. Back then, it was a passionate (if somewhat feverish), over-written, unpolished slew of 130k words; now it sits comfortably as what is my proudest accomplishment to date. The journey from Unraveled's inception to its publication is a long one—too long to relay in all the emotional details. But I can say this: 20-year-old me is screaming, crying, jumping up and down with giddiness right now. She knew this day would come. She might not have known when, but she always felt its presence looming somewhere in her distant horizons. Multiple times, when in need of a stern self-talk, she scribbled in her journal, "I can do this. I will do this."

Unraveled is more than a book. It is a window into my inner world, the product of many nights of doubt and frustration and desperate hope. This, in many ways, is a representation of who I am at my core. The subject matters I deal with in the Stormbringer Saga—identity, belonging, truths coming to light, forgotten or lost histories, rising above expectations and suppression—are woven into the seams of my real life. The bones of this story belong to me, my experiences, my wishes for what might have been.

Art imitates life, as the saying goes.

People have asked me in the weeks and days leading up to now if I'm excited, and honestly, I think what I'm feeling most strongly is a sense of peace. Buried beneath that is a myriad of emotions: debilitating fear, elation, shyness, self-consciousness, relief. Maybe it's because I'm experiencing all of these in such rapid succession that I feel so calm. Or maybe it's because some deeper, intuitive part of me knows that this is where I belong. That this is what I'm meant to do with my life. To write, to share words that connect with readers on a soul-level, to hold a mirror to the world's flaws and make it palatable by throwing a veil of fiction over it. There is a beautiful calmness in knowing, feeling like I'm following a path that was always mine to take. Even if it leads me where none of my friends and family have gone before, I don't fear the unknown. I only fear stagnation, and the publication of Unraveled feels like taking a bold leap of faith toward the life I want for myself.

I may discuss more about the makings of Unraveled in future posts if people are interested in the behind-the-scenes of it all. There's definitely a lot I would be happy to ramble about! But for now, I want to just bask in the excitement, the release, and the satisfaction in knowing that I did this.