As followers of my blog will know (and I’d like to take this opportunity to wish both of you a Happy New Year), I published two books last year. While neither tome is likely to feature heavily in the best-seller lists (and Jo Rowling’s millions appear – for the moment – to be safe), I am very proud of both.

But, they are not perfect.

As every author knows, there comes a time in all the drafting, re-drafting, editing, re-editing, re-re-drafting, seeking feedback from relatives, and re-re-re-drafting that you finally have to pull the trigger. Enough is enough. Much like an IT project, “done is better than perfect”. And when that moment arrives, it can be quite daunting. Knowing that the typo on page 73 (I’m not going to look), or the slightly awkward phrasing on page 112 will be forever enshrined in print can cause a hesitation of the mouse-click even at this late stage.

But, eventually, the time is nigh, the loins are girded, and you hit the button. Whether that’s to send the final draft manuscript to your publisher or to actually launch a self-published book on Amazon (other retailers are available), the moment provides a visceral thrill. Too late to change anything now.

Publish and be damned.

Which is why it is always wonderful to get feedback: fully independent feedback from someone who’s seen the book, paid their hard-earned money for a copy and taken the time to read it. And then they’ve posted that feedback publicly. Not because they are a mate, or because I’ve asked for some private pointers, but because they think it’s worth doing, because they enjoyed the book or found it helpful, and because they think that others will, too. It’s wonderful because, until that moment, you’re never quite sure whether the book is any good. In authorship perhaps more than in any other format, it’s hard to be objective. Everything you read on the page has been put there by you. Facts will be clear to you; opinions will resonate; phrasing will be pleasing. I suppose it’s like the stand-up comedian about to deliver the punchline they’ve delivered countless times before. They know it works. But the first time they tried it on stage, they only had trust in the process and their own opinion to back it up. That first burst of laughter must be like ambrosia to their ears (and not the rice pudding variety).

And the great thing is – I now know what this is like as it happened to me for the first time this week. Yes, I got some feedback on the second book (“The Wise Business Analyst”), posted on LinkedIn for all to see. Thankfully (and as you might guess as I wouldn’t be posting otherwise), it was very generous and positive. It was great to see some more comments following, with a few contributors indicating that they would get the book themselves as a result. I sneaked a peek on Amazon shortly afterwards and my book had climbed to the dizzying heights of the top 60 of technology books, albeit only briefly.

But the adrenaline rush I got had nothing to do with the prospect of a (slightly) increased cash flow in March. What brought a tiny tear to my eye was confirmation: the appreciation of my peers, vindication from the community into which I had cast my work that this had been a book worth writing, a book worth reading.

So thanks James. My first critic. And if the book’s only half as good as you made it sound, I’ll be chuffed to bits.

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