I’ll start with a confession: I’ve been guilty of this myself. I’ve called a book my “baby.” I’ve felt defensive when someone critiqued it. I’ve poured months of energy into a manuscript and treated it as fragile, untouchable, something to be protected at all costs.
Here’s the thing though: that’s the wrong mindset.
Your book is not your baby.
Love It Like a Professional, Not a Parent
Yes, writing a novel is a labour of love, but it should be a love akin to that of a professional chef for the meals they make, not the love of a parent for a child.
A chef loves the meal they’ve created. They’ve trained for years. They’ve refined the recipe, tested the ingredients, plated it with care. When they serve it, they hope you’ll taste the care and skill, and yes, the love in every bite.
Here’s the difference: if you don’t like it, they know it’s not personal. They don’t take it as an existential attack. They probably don’t even adjust the recipe, especially not from a single diner’s feedback.
They might listen to you when you say why it wasn’t to your taste, and they might take that on board to improve the dish and serve again tomorrow.
The Danger of “Baby” Thinking
When you treat your book like a baby, any criticism feels like someone’s insulting your child. You get defensive. You resist edits, or any sort of change. You convince yourself the book is “special” as it is and don’t even consider that it needs to be changed.
That’s not protecting your art—it’s sabotaging it.
A book isn’t meant to stay in the crib. It’s meant to go out into the world. And out there, people will judge it. They’ll poke holes in it. They’ll have opinions. If you’re too protective, your book will never survive that journey.
Treat It Like a Product
This doesn’t mean stripping the soul out of your work. It means respecting it enough to finish it, shape it, and prepare it for the world.
A product has:
- A function — it’s meant to do something for the reader (entertain, move, challenge, inform).
- A design process — drafting, testing, refining.
- A release date — because endless tinkering is just delay dressed up as care.
When you think of your book as a product, you stop asking “is it precious enough?” and start asking “is it ready?”
Hypocrisy, Admitted
I know that this is easier said than done. I’ve been there, clutching my own words like they were irreplaceable. Even now, I sometimes slip into that mindset.
Every time, I’ve been brave enough to let go—let someone critique, cut, or reshape—it’s made the book stronger. Every time I’ve treated the manuscript like a project rather than a child, I’ve moved forward instead of stalling.
The Takeaway
Your book isn’t your baby. It’s your work.
Work you love, sure. Work you care about deeply. But it’s still work. It deserves to be treated with respect, honesty, and professionalism.
So stop protecting it like it’s fragile. Refine it like it’s worth improving. Then release it into the world.
That’s how books grow up.
That’s how they find their readers.