Hi friends,
I forgot to be playful about it all.
That’s the sentiment that’s been coming up for me lately, that I’ve started taking it all too seriously, and stopped being excited and experimental about my publishing career.
With my business, I experiment. I try new things, I refuse to follow any rules, and I don’t really worry when a launch, a course, or a promotion doesn’t go as well as I’d hoped. (I know this is the reason for my growth, why my business succeeds in the ways that it does.)
But I’ve been precious about my books. Especially my fiction.
I’m super excited about the opportunities that are currently available to authors and that are becoming mainstream.
Crowdfunding. Serialization. Kindle Singles. All forms of indie publishing.
And I’m not taking advantage of them.
Because I’m afraid of failing?
Because I’m worried I’ll be judged?
Because I’ve made an intense emotional investment in these books and I’m worried I’ll be left heartbroken if they don’t reach as many readers as I believe they should?
Probably all of the above.
In 2004, when I wrote my first book, I had just graduated from college in India. Amazon Publishing and the Kindle didn’t exist yet, so I created a PDF, slapped on a cover, and sold it through my website using a Paypal link. (PDF was still a proprietary standard back then, so most of us were publishing ebooks as .exe program files. That’s how old this story is. You’re welcome.)
I knew no US or UK publisher would take me seriously, but that didn’t stop me from emailing 100+ book packagers and small publishers and telling them that I was an author and available for ghostwriting opportunities, especially if they had amazing everyday women whose stories needed telling or anything at all to do with India.
I heard back from a surprisingly large number, but it didn’t lead to anything.
This didn’t faze me, not one bit.
I continued selling my ebook, even serializing it on my blog, and sending out emails to publishers once a year letting them know that even though they’d said they didn’t need writers in India, I was still there should an opportunity present itself. (It did, finally. In 2011.)
Anyway, over time, my journalism career took off, I got super busy, I got married and had a kid, and by the time I returned to books, I was too in my own head about what my books had to do and mean and say. It didn’t help that I was surrounded by “serious professionals” who pooh-poohed the idea of writing for fun. I mean, if you don’t spend seven years and experience months of debilitating depression during the writing process, what kind of writer ARE YOU?
(I did, so apparently I’m a dutiful one.)
Recently, however, I’ve had the opportunity to pull my head out of my arse and, I don’t know, chill a little bit.
I still want to be a New York Times bestselling author, but I want to do it because it would be cool, fun, and an exciting challenge to work towards, and not because I want to impress them.
I still want to win awards, but I want to do it because it would show me that I’m succeeding in my pursuit of excellence, and not because I want to impress them.
I still want to make a fantastic living from my work, but I want to do it because I really enjoy making money and appreciate the opportunities it affords, and not because I want to impress them.
So, I’m going to be experimenting. And playing. And taking risks with my precious snowflake books.
I love traditional publishing, have two books on submission at the moment, and will continue down that road until it plays out.
I love indie publishing, am gearing up to re-release my eight indie titles under my new name, and will continue down that road as well.
In addition, I’m going to be exploring new opportunities.
I’m getting a book ready for crowdfunding.
I’m getting a bunch of short stories written to publish as Kindle Singles.
I’m dusting off a few half-finished books because they weren’t “big” enough to take to traditional publishers.
I am, once again, learning to play.
I forgot to be playful about it all for a while. But now, I remember.
Let the games begin.
Cheers,
Natasha