Author Presence

These days it’s not enough to simply write a book. Even if you plan to send your manuscript off to publishers (scary!) and be traditionally published, they expect you to do your part in publicizing yourself and your books. And unless you’re already a bestselling author, the chances of them doing much to promote you at all is kinda slim (from what I’ve heard). So, no matter what route you decide to take in getting published, you’re gonna have to sell yourself.

That doesn’t mean you’re out on the streets with a sandwich board pleading with all the passing cars to buy your books. That would be scary enough. Instead, you have to spend countless hours doing the thing you least like to do. Talking to people. Cold calling, sending emails, and putting yourself out there.

I write about social anxiety. Mostly because I have it and they say, “write what you know.” I certainly know social anxiety! Which means that “putting myself out there” is freaking frightening.

I’ve started all of my blogs as a way for me to get my thoughts out of my head and help me sort them out. Sure, I made them available for others to read, but I never really cared all that much if anyone read my posts. And slowly, people did read what I wrote. Which was pretty affirming that I wasn’t the only person feeling that way or going through those things. But it didn’t really bother me if no one read it. Because it was for me.

Now I’m supposed to want people to read what I’m writing. I pay attention to the numbers and when they are small, I feel like a failure. When my purpose for blogging changed, so did my feelings of self-worth.

I try not to tie my self-worth to numbers. I know that I wrote my book because I needed it. I needed to follow these characters through their story. I needed to see their struggles and their growth. I would love for other people to read it and love the characters as much as I do, but if they don’t, it doesn’t change how much I love them. It doesn’t change that I wrote a book. And even if the only people that read my book are friends and family, that needs to be okay.

Honestly, I’d really rather it be strangers reading my book. Writing is such a vulnerable thing. You pour your heart out. It becomes your baby. Something precious. And when someone you love peeks inside, you fear it will change how they see you. With strangers, they will pick up the book or read the blog because it sounds interesting to them. They can relate. With friends and family, they’re reading it because of you. Even if it’s not their usual genre, or they have never experienced social anxiety, or they truly hate RPG. They read it because they love you. But that doesn’t mean they’ll love your writing. And your writing is you. Or at least, it feels that way. And a rejection of your writing feels like a rejection of you.

A couple of weeks ago I discovered a new indie bookstore nearby and have visited several times since. I’ve ordered two books from them, browsed the shelves, made purchases, and chatted with the owner. It took a few visits before I admitted to having written a book that is currently with beta readers. And afterwards I felt like he must have determined that I was only there to try to sell my book to him. Even though I don’t even have the book yet to sell. The idea of going back to him once I do to ask if he’d be willing to carry my book or let me host an author table freaking scares me.

I’ve done some research into reaching out to others to get myself seen. Podcasts, guest blogging, review sources, virtual book tours, etc. They all sound frightening. I signed up for a newsletter with an indie book review site and replied to the first email I got with a description of my book. The reply I got was to let him know when it’s published. Which is partially nice to hear and partially terrifying.

I look at all of the authors that I feel have “made it” and everything they do to promote their work. Author visits, social media, interviews, literary festivals, and so much more. It looks exhausting. Maybe I don’t want to “make it.” Maybe I’ll be content just to put my book out in the world and if two or three strangers read it, that will be enough. Maybe it needs to be enough to be able to say “I did it. I wrote and published a book.” Nowhere is there a guarantee that anyone will read it. But how do I convince my self-worth that it doesn’t matter?