Practicing Gratitude and Admitting Insecurity
Everything Is True
Ada Hoffmann's author newsletter
It's really hard to explain the emotions that an author has around a book launch. On the one hand there is genuine pride at what I've made and genuine delight and gratitude for the fans who have enjoyed or are excited about it. I don't want to downplay that element. It is genuinely good and I'm not looking for pity at all. I keep thinking, lately, about the version of myself who lived eight or nine years ago, and how pleased she would be with everything I've accomplished - the books, the day job, the house and even more.
And yet.
And yet.
As soon as the hype train fades, even just for two seconds, those constant human doubts creep back in.
What if nobody likes this one? What if nobody reads this one? What if the handful of happy fans who've been kind enough to congratulate me directly are the only fans there are?
What if it's actually bad? What if I didn't do as good a job writing it as I should have? What if people read it, and then hate it, and then talk about what a bad writer I am?
What if, after this, I never sell another book again?
What if - due to the general state of the world - it only gets harder and harder, and eventually impossible, to succeed?
I could blame my mental illness for these thoughts but the truth is, the more I talk to other authors, the more I am convinced we all have them, regardless of health status or neurotype. Even the most successful authors have them; there's always some imagined standard of even greater success that those authors can feel they are failing to live up to, or some problem (like haters online, which are as inevitable as rain) that they feel they ought to be able to avoid.
The more I think about it, the more I think it's inevitable for all authors to feel these doubts and worries, in an industry where:
The work is, by its nature, incredibly personal and vulnerable;
There is no job security, since it all depends on whether readers in the future will buy a thing;
Only the rarest success stories are ever able to make writing their full time job, which is the minimum beginner entry level in many other careers;
The messed up excesses of capitalism are as interested in exploiting workers here as in any other modern industry - not only authors, but also the editors, publicists, and countless other professionals we rely on to get our books out into the world.
Like, why wouldn't this feel funny? It is a situation designed to breed insecurity, even in healthy people.
But at the same time, there is something so beautiful about writing. There is something affirming and wonderful about seeing people, even just a few people, read your work and respond meaningfully. There is something cathartic and delightful and important about the process of putting a story down on paper, even if nobody ever reads it, or if only two or three people do.
If I'm insecure and relying on readers to prop up my self-esteem then I will simply never have self-esteem - not because I don't have wonderful readers who've thanked me for the book in wonderful ways, but because insecurity is a bottomless pit. You can throw all the praise and kudos in there that you want and the instant new praise stops appearing, insecurity will start crying like a hungry cat and asking why there isn't more. You can't win with insecurity, not that way.
But I can reduce my insecurity if I remember a few simple things.
I can remember that I love these characters and worlds (and future characters/worlds I haven't shown to you yet).
I can remember that I do this because I love it. Not just because it is pleasant, or feeds my ego or something, but because the process itself is something necessary to my life. It’s how I process things I’m feeling, and even things I haven’t noticed that I’m feeling yet. What if I never sold a book again? What if the entire book industry died overnight? I'd still keep writing - something, in some way - for my own sake. The burnout that I've had on and off since 2014 has made this abundantly clear for me. I need to write; and, first and foremost, I need to write for myself.
So, if you look at it that way, as long as I am writing something for myself, in some way, I have what I need. And then all the rest of this - readers, reviews, contracts, agents, money, praise - is just stacked on top of it. It's bonus material. Whether there is a tiny amount of it or a great flood, it is always good and pleasing to see bonuses arrive.
I am having to practice gratitude, in other words, just like all the pop psychologists say!
I am sharing all this, not because I want sympathy or reassurance, but because I think vulnerability is good, and - in particular - because I know many of you who are reading this are writers or creatives of some sort yourself. I think these feelings are nearly universal and I think it's good to read and talk about them, sometimes, to know you're not alone.
And anyway, my book is out! My third book in my trilogy is out! And people are calling it epic and twisty and weird and compassionate and affirming. And that is amazing, and I am going to celebrate.