Am I Dreaming?
What do you do after your dream comes true? Do you wake up the next day, pat yourself on the back, and rest upon your laurels? Is it enough to simply say “I did it?” Is that joy enough – and how long does that last? Shouldn’t life be a journey from start to finish, and not a rest stop where you decide to get off and live until your time is up?
The reason I pose so many questions to everyone – including myself – is because this is the situation in which I currently find myself. And to tell the truth, it is uncomfortable.
My long-time dream of publishing a book came true about 2 weeks ago. I am now “officially” published. My book is out there, and anyone can buy it and read it. You would think that the glow of this accomplishment would linger a while, but it hasn’t. Instead I find myself placed in the awkward and uncomfortable spot of having to promote myself in order to sell some copies. Plainly put: I hate it.
Oh, I know that this goes with the territory. Everyone I know tells me this. A writer is not just supposed to sit back and let fate determine what happens. I writer is supposed to take an active part in the book’s destiny. Plus, how can fate ever play a role when it doesn’t even know your book exists?
I understand all of this, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Yes, I have been told to always carry copies of the book with me, to always talk about it to people, to hit up friends and family to buy copies and to help spread the word (this is called “marketing,” but some people have other words for it. The only one I can mention here is “annoying.”) I am definitely NOT a salesperson. The mere thought of t makes me anxious.
So how do I feel? More like that kid who tug’s at his father’s shirt and pesters him for something until he finally relents and gives in to the kid. And that does not feel good at all.
But the bottom line is this: I am going to need to do some very uncomfortable things soon. I am going to have to go around and do book readings in front of real live people who will look at me and listen to me. That feels like a panic attack waiting to happen.
I am also going to have to go more places and talk to more people. Oh, no, what have I gotten myself into? And I am going to have to keep reminding people that my book is for sale – not because I want fame or fortune, but because what I really want is for people to read it; because there is a chance they might enjoy it, and there is even a chance that it might help them in their own struggles.
I wrote the book for myself, first of all. I needed closure and help with my grieving process. And I also hoped that by releasing it to everyone, it might actually do some good.
So now I am a pest, and I will have to deal with that, too. Isn’t life a blast?