Press Send. We’ll Fix the Typos Later.

Press Send. We’ll Fix the Typos Later.

I published a book. And now I’m working on the sequel.

It’s still weird to type those words: I published a book. Not someday. Not almost. Not “I’m working on it.” I wrote it. I formatted it. I designed the cover. Created the table of contents.

And then—I pressed send.

I didn’t post about it right away. I needed a few days to let it sink in. I kept checking Amazon just to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

This was a dream for me. For years, I made getting a book into the world feel bigger than it needed to be. I believed it was too complicated, too impossible. I kept holding it up to someone else’s version of what “real” publishing looks like… until I’d talk myself out of doing the very thing I most wanted to do.

But this time, it was different. I didn’t wait for perfect—or for someone else’s definition of success.

I just… pressed send.

I waited the standard 72 hours for the book to go live. When it finally appeared on Amazon, there it was: My book! My words!

And also… a formatting error.

Ugh.

I hadn’t seen it until that moment. But here’s the miracle: it didn’t rattle me. I didn’t panic. I didn’t throw my hands in the air and wonder why I bothered. I just said, “Oh, I know how to fix that.” And I did.

I had done the work. I had learned how to do the work. So now, I could do what needed to be done. It took about ten minutes. Resubmit.

The question I brought to this book project was: Can I really self-publish a book?

I’d done some research and gotten some quotes. And that sparked something in me—a desire to use this book as research. I wanted to get my words into the world, but I honestly didn’t think it was possible on a shoestring budget. I’d been told I’d need thousands of dollars just to have someone else do the “real” work. That I couldn’t do it without a launch team. Without the “right” process.

Along the way, I discovered something else. I could learn how to do it. And I did learn. (Although I’ll tell you—I’m still learning.)

Each step made me a little braver. I learned to format. I learned to design my own cover. I learned to trust my own words.

But the biggest thing?

I learned to let my dream look like my dream—not someone else’s.

And just when I thought that was the biggest lesson… I learned something I think I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life:

We live in a world where fixing typos is easy.

I mean that literally and metaphorically. This isn’t a world of thousands of pre-printed copies anymore. This is a world where we can notice an error, make a change, reupload the file, and keep going. This means we don’t have to wait until everything is perfect. We don’t have to panic if we miss something.
We don’t have to make a single mistake mean we shouldn’t have tried.

Because mistakes?

They’re just part of it. Fixable. Teachable. Human.

They don’t ruin the dream.
They refine it.

So if you happen to find a mistake in my book—message me! I’d love to know. Truly. I know I can fix it.

I’m on the other side of this dream now, living in the space where I’m a woman who wrote a book.

I used to be the woman wanting to write a book. Then I was the woman writing a book.
But now?

It’s past tense. It’s done.

I’m the woman who figured things out. I’m the woman who pressed send. Somebody already bought it—before I told anyone. Before the blog post. Before the newsletter. Because it was there. Because it was real.

So, whatever your dream is… here’s my challenge to you:

Press send.

You can fix the typos later.

I’ll be cheering you on.

—Paige