If you were here with me at the beginning, you remember the pure, unadultured excitement I had for publishing my first novel.
It’s been my dream since I was little. If you asked 7-year-old Annabelle what she wanted to be when she grew up, she’d say “author.”
I never wavered. I starting writing novels when I was 11, and wrote Far Below Human Eyes when I was 12. Though the story now merely borrows the bones of what I wrote back then, I’ve always been a writer.
So when I blinked down at my cracked android phone screen in the basement of a childhood home, reading the words “CONGRATULATIONS” from a publisher called Morgan James, the words almost didn’t register. The moment didn’t feel real. Couldn’t be real. I remember laying down on our crusty basement carpet, blinking up at the popcorn ceiling, having a moment to myself before running upstairs to tell my family. Was this real?
It was. And my life changed.
On top of homework, soccer practice, and musical rehearsals, I juggled editing under tight deadlines. Upon submitting the final copy, the work transitioned to marketing. I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was that I was excited.
During this season, I felt like a midsummer dragonfly, zipping through the cattails. Nothing could stop me. I had ambitions to become a bestselling author, do book signings every weekend, and grow my Instagram following to influencer levels.
On my pub day, I felt the most momentum. Classmates and teachers celebrated with me – a friend brought me a cookie, another flowers. I’d never felt so celebrated and loved. The family I babysat for threw a surprise party that night with all my friends. I cried and cried (happy tears). I did a book signing shortly after, at my (very supportive) high school. It was finally happening. My dream.
Then I graduated. And the momentum slowed down.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful support system and I’m incredibly blessed to even be published at all. I don’t look at what happened next as a failure or a downfall. I look at it like just another part of the story.
But quickly after I graduated, I got a job, and real life hit me. I didn’t really sell any books. The buzz around the release died. And I didn’t know how to become the bestselling author I always wanted to be.
I poured into my career. Met a boy and got married 7 months later. Built a home in a van and lived in it for 9 months. Got an orange kitten named Creature. Learned how to be an adult.
All the while, Far Below Human Eyes sat on my bookshelf, once a symbol of great achievement, now a symbol of guilt and forgotten dreams.
A couple of times, I tried to sit down and read it – get my feet wet again. It felt too painful. I found spelling mistake after spelling mistake, plot hole after plot hole.
As an adult, I now know the editor we’d hired did not do the best job. So many issues slipped through the cracks, and my teenage mistakes were now permanent as ink on paper.
On top of that, the publisher I worked with follows a hybrid model, which means they don’t do any marketing for their authors. I signed up for this, so it isn’t a criticism. It’s more a lament that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. A 17 year old doesn’t know how to market herself and sell her own book. Looking back, I was doomed from the start.
I began to fear what my debut novel had done to my reputation. I still had ambitions of publishing again as an adult, but what if publishers saw my debut novel never got any sales? Would they ever consider my future works?
These anxieties hung over my head for years.
And then I woke up one January morning, early this year, and decided I was tired of the storm cloud hanging over me. I would not lie down and let this situation define me. I would start asking questions.
I didn’t even know if it was possible, but I asked my publisher if I could rewrite Far Below Human Eyes. At first, they were confused. But graciously, they agreed to work with me. So I got writing.
For 6 months, I painstakingly deleted and rewrote, erasing the plot holes, adding depth, and changing the story.
The other challenge? I couldn’t just delete and rewrite. My new version had to be the exact page count as the old version, which meant my edits had to equal out, down to the page.
The more I changed, the easier it felt. I stopped treating my book as a pair of shackles, and instead started viewing it as a joy. The pressure to become a bestselling author had dissipated – I know I likely won’t make money from my books, or be able to dub “author” as my main gig. But as a hobby, being an author suddenly felt more enjoyable and less hurried, more real and less forced.
I also decided to redesign the cover. It needed some serious help. I worked with an incredible artist (@merand.art on IG) and it turned out so amazing. Here’s a before vs. after for reference:
Don’t get me wrong, it’s far from perfect. If you read it, you’ll probably find a mistake and think “Ha HA she missed something!”
But I’m letting go of perfect.
As of September 2026, Far Below Human Eyes relaunched, and the updated story is officially available. You can find it anywhere you shop books online – Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc. Shoot me a DM and I can even ship a signed copy your way 🤍
Whether you’ve been with me since the first chapter, or joined me just as I’m starting this new one, I’m ever thankful for your support. I’m honored to share my stories with you, and I’m excited (in a calmer, more grounded sense) for what’s next:)
To the next chapter 🥂
XOXO,
Annabelle