On Self-Publishing My Debut Poetry Book

One of the first stories I ever wrote was titled First Time I’ve Seen You. I must have been around 7 years old. Storytelling and drawing were hobbies of mine as a child, so I suppose you could say I was born a writer. I didn’t choose it; it chose me. 

I still have the story, which I wrote and illustrated on construction paper and bound together with string. My grandmother surely helped me; I doubt I could have come up with such a complex contraption on my own. It remains one of my most treasured childhood possessions. 

The story itself was sweet: a boy (Julian) met a girl (Jean), and fell in love at first sight. He asked her if she wanted to “go out for a while,” and she said yes. The world’s longest first date ensued. First, they went to a “drink shop” and had an ambiguous drink together. Then, they went to the movies and ate really good popcorn. After that, they went rollerskating at the park. Then, they went to “an ice cream store,” and had a lot of ice cream “because it was good.” 

Finally, they noticed a dancing contest taking place nearby, and they decided to enter. They danced all night and then won the contest. Elated, Jean grabbed Julian’s hand and gave him a big kiss, to which he fainted from joy. Then, Julian walked Jean home, and at her door, she hooked an arm around his neck and gave him another kiss. He fainted again. The end.

There are so many things I could say about this. First, how precious was I, a child, imagining my perfect first date and cramming in every activity I could think of? Now 34 years old, I’m exhausted just thinking about it. 

Second, it isn’t Julian who kisses Jean – it is Jean who kisses Julian. Twice. The fact that I, that young, wrote a story about a girl who takes that initiative – and a boy so thrilled about it, he faints – says a lot about me. (And what does it say, exactly? That I really am an Aries Venus, whether I am proud of it or not.)

That story was only the beginning of the stories I would write. As I grew older, I became interested in Sailor Moon and Magic Knight Rayearth fanfiction, and I even published my own work on Fanfiction.net. When that got dull, I wrote a crossover. In those stories, the girls always rescued the boys. Then I decided I wanted to write my own fictional story, which I completed when I was 14, and started working on a sequel in high school. Even that story followed a similar theme. 

At some point, I shifted to poetry. I still have my poetry notebook from age 14. There was something about the music of it, the brevity, that I enjoyed more than writing fiction. I loved taking little bite-sized, even sometimes painful moments from my life and making them sing. 

Fiction, fanfiction, nonfiction, poetry, journalism, copywriting — curious as ever, I’ve tried it all. I am every kind of writer. Always have been. 

This fall, I will be releasing my debut poetry and prose book. At the risk of sounding dramatic, it is a culmination of my life’s work. I even wrote some of the pieces in my collection as early as age 14 (and so far, no one has been able to tell which – which I think is a good thing). Others, a month ago. The whole thing feels a bit like a museum to me. While most readers won’t have this context, it’s hard for me not to sort each piece into multiple different timelines and muses: This one, this one, and that one are about this guy; this one, this one, and that one I wrote after my dog died. Etcetera. 

Still, I can’t help but imagine myself at age 7, 10, and 14, scribbling away on construction paper, or typing away on the computer in my basement, where I had the most quiet and privacy. I fashioned my own book together with string; I edited each piece myself, then uploaded it to the internet, one chapter a week. I never asked for permission or wondered if I could – I just did the thing. 

Self-publishing my debut book feels a lot like that to me – something 7 and 14-year-old me would have done in a heartbeat, not worrying about what anyone else thinks. Being criticized and misunderstood were fears of mine that only grew as I got older. Younger me never worried about such things. 

Knowing the feeling was mutual, and as perceptive as ever, my female characters, including Jean, and myself in later years, kissed first. They didn’t wait around for the magical thing to happen. They made the magical thing happen themselves.

I can’t wait for you all to finally read my book this fall. Title, cover, dates, and more info soon.

If you’d like to read the entirety of First Time I’ve Seen You, and support 7-year-old Megan’s little story and big dreams, you can read it here on Ko-fi for the low, low price of $3. Plus, you will get access to over 60 exclusive blog posts (including behind the scenes book publishing progress), several vlogs, my Newsletter archive, and more. Younger me thanks you.