"How's it all going?"

The process of launching a novel, part I

For the first time I’m writing without a sense of where I’m headed. I am in the midst of a big creative sort, writing to make sense of things for myself. Because I know it will take me several weeks to feel through fully, I’m taking this in layers.

Expectations and reality  

“How’s it all going?” That has been the hardest question for me to answer this past month.

I’ve learned that most people expect a certain answer—something along the lines of, “It’s exciting and wonderful; my long-held dream of publishing a book come true.”

Part of the problem is that I always expected that to be my answer too. And every word of it is actually true. But it misses so much that saying it feels like a lie.  

In this way, it reminds me of having a baby. A book is not a baby, but having launched my first book and had a baby in the last few years, there are similarities. I’ve had a number of authors tell me in the past few weeks that their first book launch was their least favorite part of the writing journey. Which made me think of the first months of motherhood, and all the things that people share only after you are in them. Some tip-of-the-iceberg examples: I had never heard of breast milk taking days to “come in” until 24 hours post c-section, or how it could result in a starving baby screaming uncontrollably at 4 am, or how terrifying it would feel to be more tired than I’d ever been and still responsible for a life.  

The book-launch process has hit even harder than early motherhood because of how drastically my expectations have differed from reality. I thought the public speaking would be the hardest part. And it’s true that the lead up to events is anxiety-inducing. But I’ve found sharing about how I shaped Maud’s story and how it shaped me, as well as connecting with other authors, to be one of my favorite parts of the experience.

The hardest part has been the quiet moments in between. I wasn’t prepared for how often and how much I would be hurt. And the sources can be so sneaky. Each time I see a book recommended by anyone, including in a morning news feed, and it isn’t my book. Each time someone tells me they are reading the book but doesn’t share what they think about it. Or says something, and all I hear is what they don’t say. Or doesn’t show up for an event after saying they would, or doesn’t respond to an invite at all. Each time I think about certain reader reviews. Each time I open social media and see a post about another book. Each time I open social media, period.

My skin feels tender all the time. I walk into a room of people I know, or open my email, and I brace myself.

What to do with the hurt

The hardest parts of all this hurt right now is knowing what to do with it. My body is telling me stop. Close in. Protect. Stop writing. Delete this post.  

I know the power of vulnerability; I have read Brené Brown. I believe in sharing deeply with other people. Deep sharing has led to much of the good I’ve found in life. But putting a creation into which I’ve sunk not only years of time but years of feeling out into the world is the most exposed thing I’ve done, and it’s putting my beliefs about vulnerability to the test.

Brené would say that in the arena of putting creative work out into the world, hurt is inevitable. It’s the courage to continue that counts. But should I really be responding to the hurt by getting more vulnerable? Does that mean I’m not listening to what the hurt is trying to tell me?

I am so afraid of continuing. I am so afraid of not.