I Stood in the Arena

Important information to understand this post: Kirkus Indie is a company that reviews books. As in, you pay them a fee, and they offer a critical review of your work.

That’s right, everyone. I paid someone to sift through my novel and criticize it.

And whether or not you live with anxiety, depression, or any other mental illness, disorder, or neurodivergence, you can understand the intensity of the review process, right?

This piece of your soul, an offering you made with honest hope and emotion and feeling, something that at times ripped pieces of you long hidden into the light, is handed to a faceless, nameless person that, for all you know, hates fantasy.

Or romance. Or women authors.

Or has an ex that wrote fantasy. Or only gets their next promotion if they suffer through a genre they’d rather not read.

You get the picture. My brain has been a messy place this last month and a half.

It’s the same way I feel about the impending performance review at work. How it felt waiting for paper and test grades in school. The way I counted the days after submitting my thesis for publication.

But I could have chosen another path. I did not have to get a Kirkus review to publish.

I did it for the credit, for the acknowledgement, for the broadening of my audience.

I did it a little bit for my internal critic, who hates everything I wrote with a fiery passion and constantly whispers about my inadequacy.

Because sometimes I hope that one more positive comment will make the voice quiet (it never does).

So yes, to me this felt like putting on armor. Choosing a sword. Waiting at the gate into the Coliseum with my heart in my throat.

The fight wasn’t perfectly executed, but I did it! And I came out victorious on the other side.

That’s right! The review came back positive. Not glowing or perfect, but distinctly positive.

They loved my romance and (from a notoriously harsh reviewer) thought my intimate scenes were genuinely steamy (cue the girlish squealing of delight).

And they could have called me ‘promising’ or ‘developing,’ but Kirkus said instead that the book is ‘well-written!’ Multiple times!

I won’t ignore the criticism. They noted that my novel doesn’t have a ground-breaking plot line. That it’s another woman on a heroic journey with magic powers.

I wish I could tell them they missed the point: I never set out to break the mold with my story line. But this is a review company that focuses on plot especially.

The Dark Mage was never about unusual time-travel or breaking conventional tropes.

Ren’wyn was always meant to discover who she is. She was meant to find a new family among people that love and value her. Her magic is supposed to grow and increase as she discovers freedom and confidence.

And most of all, the unique parts of the novel are her chance to heal from trauma and abuse, her desire remain soft and gentle while acknowledging her deadly internal rage, and the exploration of what it looks like to share soul-deep love with someone that accepts not just the good but the dark and dangerous pieces of ourselves, too.

So yes, I was disappointed that the critique focused on the plot because that was never the point of the novel.

At the same time, The Dark Mage won’t be for everyone. There will be plenty of people who are bored with the plot development or who don’t value a main character struggling with mental health.

But I do. I love Ren’wyn. I love her journey and her inner strength. She has allowed me to embrace my own rage and anxiety with gentler hands.

And if we’re being honest, I’m scared. I’m critical. Most days I struggle with feeling like publication is a silly dream for a silly girl. What is the point of adding another book to a saturated market?

But I stood in the arena. I chose to be a gladiator and face the nameless opponent. I fought and survived my own internal fears.

Here I am, a little bloodied, already anxious for the next round (hello, BookLife review), but still standing, sword in hand.

May you find your own victory today, whether in something small or large. Stand and face those fears, don’t be afraid to get a little bloody, and when it’s over, haul yourself up with bruised, scraped knuckles to face the next one.

Go and find your pride, reader friends. I’m fighting beside you today.