When I started writing books, it was for the pure love of writing and reading. It was truly one of my wildest dreams. I never in a million years thought I would one day see my name on a book, in a bookstore.
And now, it’s about to happen. It’s quite possibly the coolest thing in my life since I met my husband and had my kids.
Interestingly enough, I can compare the entire process of writing and having a book published with having kids, and parenting in general. Not because writing a book is like birthing a baby (I’ve never liked the comparison because I’ve done both, and let me tell you—during the process of writing my book, I did NOT have to let someone handle my boobs, poke and prod every inch of my body, and I didn’t once have the weight of an entire human life on my shoulders.)
But the reason I feel I can compare the writing and publishing journey with parenting is because it is WAY harder than anyone can ever prepare you for, and there are SO MANY highs and lows—more than I ever would have imagined. And, oddly enough, the people on the inside aren’t telling us newbies about the gritty stuff. (Thank you? I think?)
It should be simple: I have a book about to be published and my lifelong dream is coming true. I should be grateful, ecstatic, thrilled. And I am. I definitely am.
But the part nobody tells you is coming is that you’re going to get some bad reviews, and you’re going to feel very embarrassed and think your book sucks, but you’re also going to have to keep promoting it in shiny, happy social media posts, when what you really want to do is dissect your book and see if what the bad reviews are saying is really true.
They also don’t tell you that you’re going to doubt yourself. Big time. You’re going to wonder if you’re ever going to work in this town again. You’re going to wonder if the bookstagrammers giving you a bad review will give your next book a shot or if they’ve written you off. You’re going to wonder if your friends and family will hate your book because of the handful of bad reviews you’re getting. (And you’re going to cringe whenever you think about talking to them about it.)
They don’t tell you you’re going to have to figure out how to navigate the business side of something you did for pure art and enjoyment’s sake. Or that there will be major disappointments and that complaining about them will be very annoying to most.
I get it. I used to think it was slightly annoying when I would hear published authors or someone with writing success complain. What do they have to complain about? I would think to myself. They have everything!
And the part I’m trying not to talk about is that I don’t have a literary agent, so I’m always comparing myself to those who do. I’m trying not to talk about the lists I’ll never make, or the awards I’ll never win. I’m not openly discussing how I’m stressing over things that are out of my control because I can’t help it; that’s who I am.
But maybe I should be, because it’s all there, and it’s all part of my journey.
The truth is, we should all be talking about it so that we can feel a little bit more human and a little less alone.
I almost didn’t write this. I worried it would sound whiny and like I was complaining when I should be celebrating. But whenever I’ve felt at my most vulnerable and wrote about it, I found there were readers out there who felt the exact same way as me. And that helped.
So if you happen to be out there struggling with these same feelings about your art and yourself—if you’re at a stage in your life where you think you should be happy for everything you have, but still can’t help but let the negative get you down—you’re not alone.
It’s hard being a sensitive human. So, let’s talk about it.