Bookselling and Bravery

I have a book coming out on Tuesday!

Whew. I have a book coming out on Tuesday.

This book release feels a little different to me than the others. It’s the second in a series, which means it doesn’t have the excitement of the first book or the finality of the later books. It’s about growth. About taking what you were taught and deciding how you’re going to relate to it. It’s about figuring out if all those traditions you were given really make sense in a world that’s been completely transformed by world events.

Sounds kind of familiar, doesn’t it?

Ever since I decided not to wait for a traditional publisher to buy my books, I’ve tried to approach the whole process like a small business. Each book I release is like a new product line. I spend months developing it, working with outside consultants to make sure it’s just right, and then I release it to fanfare, all while working on another product in the background.

Each time I do this, I add one new layer of marketing – first it was a blog, then Instagram and Facebook, then timed price promotions, and this time, professionally designed covers! Like an entrepreneur, branching out while weighing risks and rewards, debriefing and always, always learning.

Can I be honest? I don’t love this part.

I love sitting at a table covered in notes, a hundred tabs open from museums and the Library of Congress, trying to figure which station in 1920s New York had direct trains to Baltimore. I love putting in meaningful details six chapters before they matter, wondering if you, the reader, will notice them. I love editing a paragraph, thinking over the words to make sure they say just the right thing.

And I love learning and getting better at that, every day.

The marketing stuff? Not so much.

I do it, of course, because I want people to read these books. I don’t even care that much about selling them. I just want them read. And they have been read – beyond my wildest dreams. If you had told me five years ago that thousands of strangers would have my book on their (electronic) shelves, I would have laughed in your face.

Then I might have cried. That’s a lot of people reading a story I made up in my head.

Right about now is when I start asking myself why I bother with the whole publishing part. I could just write the stories in a journal, leave them to my kids in my will, and hope they don’t get thrown out in the trash. But something calls me to finish the process. To do it properly, even if the very idea brings my shoulders right up to my ears.

I think a lot about seasons. Of the year and of life. Maybe that’s what this season is about for those of us in the middle of it all. About taking all the learning that we’ve done, and finishing the job. It’s scarier now, isn’t it, since we know how big and vast and cruel the world can be. When you’re young, you’re immortal. But now, I know how short and precious and serious this life is. I don’t want to leave anything on the table.

I don’t think that’s just me. All around me, I see people starting businesses, taking big jobs, getting remarried, training for marathons, pursuing artistic risks. None of these feel like a midlife crisis. These aren’t people running away from their aging. They’re realizing that the only thing scarier than putting yourself out there is waking up one day and regretting that you never did.

So Tuesday is going to come and go, and all those pesky marketing tasks will fade, but in the end, I’ll know that I didn’t let the fear get in the way. Or the drudgery. Or the self-doubt. And then, I’ll hop on my social media, and in between posting about promos or something, I’ll get to scroll through and see all the amazing things that my fellow humans are up to. And for a moment, I’ll know what it really means when people say courage is contagious.

Thanks for showing up and inspiring me every day. Let’s keep being brave together.