When Writing and Life Collide
An exercise of humility.
I self-published two books earlier this year. I cannot put enough emphasis on self, although likely for far different reasons than your average person would like to think. I say this in the context of the fact I didn’t land some big publishing contract, there were no advances, no press, and no tours.
I decided to use a service available to anyone else, in Amazon Self Publishing, and put two separate collections of my work for sale. That’s it. While I don’t mean to minimize it, the aim of this entire post is to drive the point home, that I’m still very much the same person I was before doing so.
I’ve sold just over 100 copies, which is what the average self-published author sells in their lifetime. While I still like to believe I’m an above-average writer, and there’s no telling how many books I may or may not sell down the line — no part of the process or the potential result of doing so will change me.
I’ll be the first to admit, that it’s pleasantly surreal to see your name and face on a book. I imagine it could prop one’s ego up if they let it. Not that I’m above that — just the opposite — I have a Major Depressive Disorder which really makes it difficult to carry arrogance. It’s a blessing and a curse of sorts, as I appreciate the humility it’s instilled in me.
