When the Poem is Lost

On the ickiness of the "second job" of publishing a book

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

I’m two days late on the Substack. Not that there’s a rule about it. Not that I ruined anyone’s Tuesday. And not that I didn’t have anything to write about.

There’s the fabulous wedding of our good friends’ daughter that we attended. And I read Anne Lamott’s latest book Somehow last week. Also, I just cracked open The Brothers Karamazov. I want to write about how I just learned that trees have a silent scream and all the things that makes me think about. I’ve reconnected with one of my oldest friends, and my heart is leaping over that. I’m about to cover up a 30-year-old tattoo with a cool feather one. There’s the bubble machine my pastor whipped out during the children’s talk at church, to illustrate how we may not see or feel the Holy Spirit all the time, but he is all around and inside us. Man, I love bubbles.

There are sad things to process too. A difficult conversation, revealing a huge gap in a valuable relationship. Divorces that caught me off guard. The pain that so many loved ones are holding. The hard choices. Some things are just too private to share on here.

But I’m kind of stuck on the writing front. And I know why. It’s because of my book launch. Sometimes publishing a book is compared to having a baby. The process of it all takes longer than a pregnancy. You dream about holding it your hands and sharing it with others. But it is very different when the day actually arrives. Things are changing so much when it comes to how a book is marketed. And that right there is the big difference. No one has to market their baby. It just feels so wrong. I’m a writer, a thinker, funky pants-wearer, bourbon drinker, and a saunterer. But I suck at marketing. And the thing is, I want to suck at it. It makes me feel icky.

So here I am feeling anxious and icky and it’s really cramping my vibe for writing. I’m not sharing this to elicit compliments or pity. I decided to share it a), because I really want to keep things real over here, and b) because I am seeing other female authors writing about this whole ickiness in the book-publishing situation. And I want to keep that conversation going.

I’d love to learn more about my Substack readers, whether you are a writer or a literary citizen. Lore Wilbert and Jen Pollock Michel have both written honest, thought (and hopefully action) provoking pieces on this. Have you read them?

What are your thoughts as a reader of books on the “asks” that you see on Substack for preorders and reviews that are so important to authors? What draws you to want to buy a book and engage in the conversation that it lends? How do you like to do that? How important are endorsements to you and reviews that you read?

What are your thoughts as a writer who may be reading this now thinking, it would be great to even be published, I wish I had these problems? Because that’s a whole madhouse, anxiety-ridden thing of its own, right?

And what about you writers who relate to what Wilbert and Michel are saying—what is expected of authors these days and how the hustle of it all interferes with the creativity and art of writing?

I know that publishers are thinking through these questions as well. I’m grateful to have a team that is sensitive to them, not encouraging authors into one-size-fits all boxes that they are not comfortable in, and exploring creative and supportive ideas.

But in the end, our book babies want what every other baby wants: faces that delight in them and want to share the news of this new life in the world. This all breaks apart, of course, because we don’t buy copies of other people’s babies. And mom’s don’t need to hold their breath while they await reviews of this vulnerable thing they created. That is the hard reality of the publishing world.

I’m still looking for the poem in all of this.