Writing as Masochism and Patience with the Order of Things
Years ago when I first set out to write a book, I was naïve — entirely clueless in fact. I thought that with a good idea, good writing skills, and a great editor, anyone could write a book.
In some ways, it is probably good that I didn’t have a clue because I may have chosen to scrap the idea entirely. I’ve decided that writing a book is an exercise in masochism.
There is pain at every turn. Writing makes me feel alive and invigorated, but it also hurts like hell.
Once I wrote the book and had it edited, I quickly learned that one doesn’t just submit to a publisher. One must have an agent. So, I thought, I will get an agent. As if.
More pain. I poured hours into a book proposal, queries, and research into agent matches.
It quickly became apparent that as a writer of self-help, nonfiction, I needed to pre-possess some kind of fame in order to get an agent. At a minimum, I needed to have a large following on social media, which I had previously shunned as not a good fit for me.
I will say, at this point, that although I am a psychologist with all of the tools necessary to fight feelings of insecurity and failure, my skills were hardly a match for all of the barriers, rejections, and heartache associated with the book, which I saw as the culmination of my life’s work.
I seriously felt like a failure. I tried to brush it off, but I was stuck. If I gave up, I would have failed my goal. If I moved forward, more pain.
Not being able to secure an agent, I joined social media and attempted to build a platform. This was excruciatingly painful as I didn’t know how to use it, didn’t enjoy it, had to spend a lot of time on it.
This is where financial pain comes in. I was already in the red given the money I’d paid for editing. Now, I was purchasing social media advertisements to build my brand. I also commissioned a logo.
I decided at this point that I would not stop. I had too much invested. I also needed to prove something to myself. Onward.
I chose to self-publish, and by this time, the debt was noticeable. As I did the calculations, I realized how many books I’d need to sell to break even, but I had to spend more money to advertise the book.
I was having an internal battle about whether to throw in the towel or continue to spend. I ached all of the time.
I will pause here to say that I came across the dirty underbelly of the book world in discovering there are hybrid publishing companies that prey on unwitting authors who are desperate to publish a book. You pay massive amounts of money with the promise that you will publish under their label. It gives the allure of credibility and easy promotion, but it is seedy. I feel like with all of the other barriers authors face, this trap is victimization. Previously unpublished authors have a very difficult time breaking even with the debt accumulated. I understand the desperation that convinces a person that the debt is worth it.
At this point, I understood why agents and publishers want authors with a platform. Unless you have an endless supply of money, there is really no way to get the word out to people about your book. Audience is essential at the front end.
I was selling some books but mostly to people who personally and professionally knew me.
At some point, I must have become immune to the pain and demoralization because I recall saying, “I will try one more thing.” I sent a book proposal to a self-help publisher, who did not require an agent for consideration.
Bingo. I found an editor who asked for more. She asked for me to re-write with a little different angle. They accepted my proposal and asked me to write and re-write several times. By this time, I had given up any defensiveness and happily complied.
I just wanted to not feel defeated.
The publisher offered me a contract that eradicated my previous self-publishing debt. They proposed a release date a year away. Two years later, my book released — November 2020. I have a modest social media footprint, and I hired a book publicist on a small budget.
I am back in debt. Despite all of the investment, which includes several podcasts, good professional reviews, good public reviews, and guest blogging, my book is modestly selling (or at least I believe it is because I really have very little data).
Every day I get on Amazon to check the sales rank. It is not helpful to do so. One moment I get excited at a bump, and the next day, I am devastated by a huge sales drop. The pain is obsessively self-induced. Even though other authors implore me not to read reviews, I read every one looking for some indication of something. I don’t even know what I am looking for. One reviewer says my book is awesome. Another reviewer says it is the worst thing she has read. There is nothing useful for me on these sites, but I go there anyway.
You are likely going back to review my credentials. Yes, I am a psychologist, and yes, people consult me for ways to overcome painful situations. I am not doing the things I tell others to do, and I know that. Writing and publishing have taken on a life of their own within my life.
Then, a few weeks ago, a light bulb went off in my mind. It is all about patience with the order of things.
I am famous for preaching the importance of pain in personal growth, and yet, I’ve resisted so much of it in the writing process. I’ve viewed myself as a victim.
I’ve come to see just how essential pain is, and I appreciate that the process has to happen in a certain order. You could have told me all of this would happen, but I needed to experience it to know the truth. I had to see that things happen in their own time, and I can’t skip steps. If I skipped a step, I wouldn’t understand.
If I hadn’t experienced pain at every turn, I would not appreciate each achievement and what it meant. I would not appreciate the work and effort. I would not savor each and every positive comment I have received as precious.
I fully understand the magical thinking of overnight success, but no success happens overnight. The pain and humility are incredibly valuable in shaping how I see success and appreciating how the hard knocks make me tougher and intentional about my choices.
The pain I’ve experienced is about recognizing how fortunate I am to get any attention. The pain tells me how fortunate I am to be published. I have found that nothing given to me without hard work can ever fully be appreciated.
I have gained an incredible respect for all authors, especially those who have made it on their own. I respect those who continue to write in spite of all the barriers. I respect all of those who withstand the pain to pursue what they love and what they believe in. I am grateful to be part of the masochist club because it means something. It means I am growing.
My book, Move on Motherf*cker: Live, Laugh, and Let Sh*t Go is available now at Bookshop, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and New Harbinger.
