For the past few years, my professional world has been shaped by the words of others. I’ve beta read, edited, and even ghostwritten stories for countless writers, and I’ve loved every second of it. There is a certain magic in stepping into someone else’s imagination, helping them sharpen their characters or restructure a chapter so the heart of the story beats stronger. It’s work that has taught me discipline, patience, and the joy of collaboration. Yet while I have guided others through their own publishing paths, there has always been a quiet voice inside me whispering: When will it be your turn?
That voice has grown louder over time, until I finally decided to answer it. This year, I reached a milestone I’ve been dreaming about since childhood: I finished my own novel, The Wild Rover.
How it all began…
Every writer has their own origin story. For me, it started with a love of storytelling that never really went away. Even as I worked on manuscripts for other people, I always had scraps of ideas floating around in the background. I kept notebooks filled with characters, half-written scenes, and snippets of dialogue. But like so many of us, I told myself I was too busy, too focused on “work writing” to give myself permission to commit to my own project.
Eventually, I realised that the only way forward was to stop waiting for the perfect time. There is no such thing as a perfect time to write a book. There is only the decision to begin. So I carved out moments between editing jobs and family life. I wrote on quiet mornings, late evenings, and every stolen pocket of time in between. And slowly, what began as scattered notes turned into chapters. Those chapters became a story.
The Wild Rover took shape over many months (although the actual writing took just 2 weeks!) with moments of pure joy and moments where I wanted to throw the whole thing into the bin. Writing your own novel is not like editing someone else’s work. There is no distance, and every sentence feels personal; every choice feels like you’re making some high-stakes gamble. But I kept going, and one day I reached the words I had always wanted to type: The End.
Letting other people read it
Of course, finishing a draft is only the beginning. As an editor, I knew better than anyone that a book is not truly finished when the last page is written. It’s finished through the refining process.
Handing over my own manuscript to beta readers was far scarier than I ever expected. I’ve been on the other side of that exchange so many times, but when it is your own work, the vulnerability is something else entirely. Would they care about these characters the way I did? Would they see the flaws I feared were lurking between the lines?
The feedback was honest, kind, and most importantly, constructive. They spotted holes I had been blind to, but they also told me what resonated with me. Piece by piece, draft by draft, the story grew stronger.
That is the beauty of community in writing. We often talk about how solitary writing can be, but really, it thrives in collaboration. Without the fresh eyes of others, no book can reach its potential.
The leap of faith
The real test came when I decided to send The Wild Rover out into the world. Submitting your work is an act of courage. You pour your heart onto the page, polish it until it shines, then place it in the hands of people whose job is to judge whether it fits. It is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
I went in with realistic expectations. The publishing industry is notoriously competitive, especially in romance, where there are more hopeful manuscripts than there are slots on any list. I knew the odds, but I also knew that if I never tried, I would never know.
To my surprise and delight, my manuscript caught someone’s attention. That in itself felt like a victory. To have a story I created considered seriously, read carefully, and discussed at a professional level is something I once thought was far out of reach.
And that is where I am now. Waiting. Hoping. But also recognising that whether this journey ends in a ‘yes’ or a ‘not this time’, I’ve already achieved something I once doubted I could do.
Finding joy in the process
When you are on the outside of publishing, it is easy to believe that success is measured only in book deals, launch parties, and glowing reviews. Those things are wonderful, of course, but they are not the only measure of achievement.
I’ve discovered that the real success is in the process. It’s in finishing a draft when you once thought you never could. It is in receiving feedback and being brave enough to make changes. It is in pressing ‘send’ on that email, even with your heart pounding.
For me, the most exciting part of this journey has been rediscovering the joy of writing for myself. After years of shaping other people’s words, it feels empowering to finally prioritise my own voice. Whether this novel ends up on bookshelves or not, I know it’s been worth every moment.
What I have learnt along the way
As someone who has worked on both sides of the page, I want to share a few lessons I’ve learnt so far:
- There is no perfect time. Waiting until life calms down or until you feel ‘ready’ will keep you waiting forever. Start with the time you have.
- Feedback is a gift. Even when it stings, it helps you grow. Choose readers you trust, and listen with an open heart.
- Rejections are not failures. Every “no” is proof that you tried. It means you were brave enough to put yourself forward, and that alone is a step many never take.
- Celebrate small wins. Finishing a chapter, fixing a tricky plot hole, or receiving encouraging words from a reader all matter. Do not wait until the big milestones to feel proud.
- Enjoy the journey. Publishing is unpredictable, but the act of creating is always in your control.
So, what now?
So where do I go from here? For now, I wait and see. If this opportunity turns into a contract, I will be thrilled. If it does not, I will still be proud. Because I now know that I’m capable of writing a book and putting it into the world, and that is not something I’ll ever take lightly.
I used to think that writing my own novel would feel like standing at the edge of a cliff, paralysed by fear of falling. Now, I see it differently. Writing has been more like stepping onto a path that stretches into the unknown. I don’t know exactly where it leads, but I know I’m not walking it alone.
More than anything, I want this to be the beginning of many more stories. The Wild Rover is only the first step. I have more ideas waiting, more characters tugging at me, and more late nights with the keyboard ahead.
This is just the start of my publishing journey, and I’m ready to see where it leads. For the first time, after years of helping others on their paths, I can finally say it is my turn.
Hannah Baller RSLM 
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