I’m writing this in the hotel lobby of a Marriott in northern Massachusetts, on my way to Portland, Maine for one of my last events of the season, and I’ve got to tell you: I’m ready for the summer to be over.
This is typically my very least favorite time of year. I’m married to a teacher, and between him having to go back to school and our girls going back, this time of year usually sucks. Just this week, I was reminded that everyone needs haircuts, my older daughter was promised pierced ears before school starts, and between both my girls, a combined ten new pairs of shoes need to be purchased. TEN. I guess if you’re doing the parenting thing right and actually feeding your kids, their feet will grow. A lot. And the payoff? Bankruptcy at the hands of Famous Footwear.
Under normal circumstances, this would all make me sigh and resign myself to the fact that another school year is upon us. I’d lament the loss of the frivolity and joy of long summer days, time with friends, and the ease of having nothing on the schedule.
But that wasn’t my summer.
If you’ve been keeping tabs on me, you know I’ve been traveling. Hustling. Hard. The launch of my second novel had me feeling like I had something to prove, and there’s no question I gave it my all. I had events in 16 different states this summer. I spent about $20,000 out of pocket to fund the travel, the swag, and a variety of other assorted book-related things associated with this year’s tour – and no, none of them included the cost of a publicist.
I hate to tell you this, because I want to be able to offer a lens into the industry for my budding writer friends. I want the news to be good, and I want you to know that if you work hard, you can achieve the elusive dream of traditional publishing. But I can’t tell you that, because I tried – and it didn’t work. The sales for book 2 just weren’t – aren’t – there.
My debut novel was the #1 bestselling debut of my imprint in 2023. My sophomore novel has sold at a snail’s pace by comparison. And because publishing is a world of what have you done for me lately with regard to sales, it turns out that all of my hard work was basically for nothing. I submitted option material to my publisher only to be told that my sales weren’t strong enough for them to commit to taking another chance on me “at this time.” I still have next year’s book, which releases in June, so they reserve the right to change their collective mind, but essentially, I’ve been informed that life as a traditionally published author – at least with Sourcebooks – is probably coming to an end.
I haven’t even told my kids, because I’m so fucking ashamed.
I’ve talked at length to my husband about it. God bless that poor man, always having to listen to me go on about this pipe dream of mine. I’m sure there’s a part of him that wonders why I need this, what it is about me that feels the need to push so hard to make this dream happen, but like a good partner, he tries to be there for me when life gets tough. In fact, he’s told me that he won’t let me stop until all of my manuscripts are out there in the world (I have seven unpublished novels that have been patiently waiting their turn). All of my author friends think I’d be great at self-publishing because of my work ethic. And almost all of my author friends have at some point self-pubbed their own work. So why do I feel like such a massive failure?
That’s the question I’ve been mulling over for the past several weeks.
I recently read a great short book called Dear Writer: You Need To Quit, which shed some light on the situation. It said that success as an author depends on four key elements: 1) talent, 2) hard work, 3) timing, and 4) luck. So, no matter how hard you work or how good you are, if luck and timing aren’t on your side, it’s possible you could end up screwed. The book also shared the hard truth that large publishers are really good at acquiring new authors, but that the odds of failure are hugely in your favor. James Patterson pays the bills, the book explains, and of course we’re not all going to become James Patterson – but the big publishing companies can afford to bring you on and watch you fail because their job is not to help you succeed. Their job is just to acquire your work, get it in front of readers, and see what happens. It’s like a crapshoot, seeing if all four of the elements will align. If you’re making them enough money, you can stick around and keep writing. But if not, they’ll replace you with someone else. Because there’s an endless supply of writers eager to take their shot.
So, okay. I get the business side of things. I’m a reasonable adult and I can see how the odds may not have been stacked in my favor. But there’s more to it than just that.
I’ve been extremely fortunate to meet lots of lovely authors on this journey, all of whom struggle on a regular basis with the same feelings of inadequacy that I’ve experienced. We don’t talk about it, maybe because we don’t want to seem whiny, or maybe because we’re embarrassed or even humiliated. Most of them – definitely not all, but most – have sold out in some way. I have one friend who was told that if she “conquered” Instagram, she’d have the kinds of sales numbers necessary to continue with her publisher. So she focused her efforts on social media. A cool 50,000 followers later, the sales didn’t follow, and she and I are in the same boat.
That’s the problem. She did what they told her to do. She played by what she thought were the rules, and it didn’t make an ounce of difference.
I did the same thing. I sold out on so many levels. Before I became an author, I had zero social media. I’m an introvert, and to be real honest, I don’t like putting my personal life out there for public consumption. I never had MySpace or Facebook or anything visual. I didn’t like the idea of putting pictures of myself or my family on the internet, and well, two years in, here we are. What’s worse? I’ve invested actual money in technology – a new phone, loaded up with filters – so that I can look as young and as attractive as possible because my publisher told me my target demographic for readers is about 24-35 years old. I was also told that I’m not allowed to write a main character over the age of 30 because that won’t resonate with readers.
Let me be so crystal clear: I am 46 years old. And, if you’re reading this and you happen to fall in my “target age range” of 24-35, please allow me to also share that if you’re lucky, one day you, too, will be the ripe old age of 46. Your vision will start to fade and your hormones will be batshit crazy and you’ll begin to care about things like mammograms and colonoscopies. It happens to ALL OF US, if we’re lucky. I know better than to be ashamed of my age or of how I look. I take good care of my body and I’m grateful that it’s brought me this far, so why the hell do I spend so much time filtering myself in an effort to promote my upcoming visit to such-and-such town to try and whore out my books? Why? So that I can earn a whole dollar every time I make a sale?
I’m a grown woman with two tween daughters and I have allowed myself to set, quite possibly, the worst example for them.
All I wanted to do was write books and share them with people.
So, this fall, I’m wiping the slate clean. I’ll be launching a newsletter, so if you’d like to hear from me please feel free to sign up for it. (It's not ready yet. I'll let you know when it is.) I’ll keep posting here on my blog once a month, because I genuinely want to share this journey with other writers like myself. I’ll post on Instagram occasionally if I’m traveling somewhere, but this coming year, believe me, I’ll be traveling a whole lot less. Instead of spending my time on marketing and publicity, I’m going to spend it on the thing I came here to do in the first place: writing. And, the best part is, this time around, I give myself permission to be authentic about it. That way, if you feel like you see yourself in my books, at least you’ll know you’re relating to the real me, not just some hyper-filtered, watered down version of who I’m supposed to be.
I will say this: in June 2025, a book I wrote this past January called My Side of the Story will be released. That book is so close to my heart, I can’t even explain. It’s not a rom-com. It’s a gut-wrenching romance that explores themes of parenthood, success, and fate. I hope you like it. And if you do, just know that it’s the truest, most authentic thing I’ve ever written.
I’m not finished yet. Far from it. But moving forward, I’ll be doing things on my own terms.
Hopefully you’ll stick around for the ride.
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