There was a joke in one of my first joke books that went something like this:
A competition was announced in Jimmy’s local pub to see who could down a pint in twenty seconds. Hang on five minutes, I’ll be back to enter, says Jimmy, jumping up and running out of the building.
A few minutes later he came back and announced he was ready for the contest. He sat down in front of the newly pulled pint and sank it in twenty seconds.
“That was amazing,” said the amassed audience. “But where did you go?”
“I nipped into the pub next door to make sure I could do it.”
Even now I don’t think it’s not a very good joke, and back then I didn’t get it at all. But anyway, I feel a bit like Jimmy now, only with books. I wrote a book. And then I wrote two more to see if I could do it again. The good news is they keep getting better. I can tell.
And next I need to write the real one. The one I’ll send to the publishers again, because for me, self-publishing is (hopefully) a stepping stone, not the end game. Can I do it again? Or is three times the end of the charm?