Finally, my cover reveal! …and other musings

My cover reveal!!! FINALLY!!! This moment has been a long time coming. (Cover art by gukkhwa!)

The official cover for FIRE TO THE STARS!!! Available for preorder now. Releases August 4, 2026!

For those who don’t know, my debut YA fantasy novel was acquired in August 2022. My release date has finally been set: August 4, 2026. Standard lead times are 18 months to two years. By the time my book releases, it will have been 4 years.

What happened?

Honestly, I don’t fully understand, and it’s probably not wise for me to blast any details (especially because I don’t intend to blast any people. Corporations are the beast that grinds us all). What I will say is that when I signed my contract, I was not prepared for the extent to which publishing can hold an author’s dreams hostage, despite doing everything right.

Luckily (?), I’d already been in therapy for PTSD while this was going down. I’d experienced a traumatic injury that impacted my ability to enjoy my favorite sport, and I wanted that joy back. Coincidentally, the healing process gave me perspective not only on publishing, but on deeper traumas within myself, and how to find power in a seemingly powerless situation. (My amazing agent helped pull strings toward smoothing things over, but regulating my mental health was and always will be my responsibility.)

Thanks to this experience, I want to share two big lessons I’ve learned about mental health in publishing.

Disclaimer: I’m probably going to ruffle some feathers here. That’s okay; my perspective doesn’t need to be applicable to everyone. It’s my truth, and it only needs to work for me. If it helps even one person, I want to share it anyway. But if you’re in a place where mental health advice is not productive, please set your own boundary to protect your space and step away.

Lesson 1: This dream job is… just a job.

Maybe it’s my pre-established freelancing career that got me to view my contract this way, but a book deal isn’t a lottery ticket. It’s a contract for work for hire. I am not an artist, once money is involved. I’m a product developer. For this reason, it’s easy to understand why the publisher “didn’t care” about the delays they caused me. They weren’t living the dream with me. They bought the rights to distribute my product. Yes, it’s a cool product, but they will do what’s best for their business. I must do what’s best for mine. I can (and will) take steps to ensure I’m not so stuck in the future, but there comes a point where I need to accept the fact that I sold control of my product. My agent is my business partner, so with him on my side, we’ve identified many ways to leverage the situation (such as inspiring the publisher to give us perks/speed up other areas of the contract based on the “honor system” to keep the relationship healthy, gaining early consideration for my next manuscript, or taking my next manuscript wide to explore options at new publishers). Of course, none of this fully makes up for the delays, but like with every job, bad phases occur. Anger and punishment aren’t productive. All we can do is move forward.

For some people, the business side will kill the joy. This is OKAY. The point of writing is to be happy doing this thing we love, so there’s no shame in bowing out of the business machine to take that power back. Again, it’s just a job.

Lesson 2: Imposter syndrome isn’t normal.

If that claim gave you a visceral reaction, pause for a moment. Breathe deep. Hold for three seconds. Exhale. I know exactly how you feel. I felt that way too, when my therapist first said it. If imposter syndrome wasn’t normal, why did I feel it? Why do so many creative people say it’s normal, and that we just have to work through it whenever it rears its head?

This might be hard to read, but… therapy taught me that imposter syndrome is the result of a much deeper wound: internalized shame. A LOT of people suffer from it, even without realizing it.

Internalized shame, though? Me??? Overachiever Morgan J. Watchorn? Honestly—YES. That was so hard to admit to myself, but once I did, I couldn’t unsee it. I felt physically unsafe doing things wrong. I couldn’t validate myself unless I was told it first. My internal voice that said, “Do you really belong here with so many talented authors?” was my brain’s way of suggesting, “You know, it’s so much safer if you bow out. You won’t fail or be judged if you don’t participate. You won’t learn the truth: that you aren’t perfect. Won’t it be so peaceful if you leave the land of judgment?”  

But if we take emotion out and look at the facts, I earned my place by making mistakes and learning from them. I put in the work to find lessons in my failures. I did it a million times with my upcoming debut. I could do it again, again, again. Even if the same writing “tricks” wouldn’t work on my next book, I learned to sit with the discomfort of not knowing what to do next and just…made peace with it as a part of the process. That discomfort of “Is this scene good enough?” “Are these characters boring?” “Is my premise weak?” “Will this live up to my first book?” didn’t have to extend to my self-worth. Remember: authors are product developers. Of course our shit’s gonna stink sometimes! We just need to keep trying until we find a way to Do the Thing in a way that works, like we always do.

When the way I spoke to myself started changing, my confidence started changing. I’ve completely stopped judging myself for getting stuck as I write—and for getting stuck in life.

Think of it this way: If we get lost in a forest and can’t find the trail, what do we do?

We keep poking around until we find it.

It’s uncomfortable. Scary. But in the forest, we don’t tell ourselves that getting lost means we never deserved the adventure in the first place. So why would we tell ourselves we don’t deserve to be an author?

If I get stuck in my writing (if I stop ENJOYING the process) that just means I’ve gotten lost in the forest. That’s okay. I can double back. I can trudge forward. Either way, I’m moving. No one is coming to help me, but I’m an adult. No one is going to punish me for making a mistake, either. So long as I take a deep breath, accept where I am in the process, and keep trying, I will find my way.

Once I improved my relationship with myself, imposter syndrome melted away.

Do I still get frustrated? Sure. Angry? Yes. Confused? Absolutely. Do I question whether my writing is headed in the right direction? Yes, yes, yes. But my trust in myself and my skill level doesn’t waver. I don’t freeze. Edit letters? I LOVE them. I LOVE receiving critique. I LOVE the opportunity to find the holes in my work and do what I do best. And if I get haters? Meh. I already have them. My book isn’t even out yet and my Goodreads page already got dinged with one-star reviews. Let them stay! To me, that’s a compliment. It’s attention. I’m relevant enough to someone to interact with! Here’s how I see it: haters care. Frankly, I appreciate the passion! Passion sells books, whether positive or negative.

But it took some seriously difficult introspection to get here.

Thanks for reading! As a treat, I’ll share with you the FULL JACKET WRAP ART!

Jacket art by gukkhwa