The hardest thing about writing a book is not writing a book. At all.
I just released my fifth book, Badass Manifesting. And although I procrastinate and stress out every time, I also enjoy incredible moments of elation when I’m writing every time. Nothing is better than the feeling of finding just the right word or just the right metaphor or just the right story.
Writing can be a challenge.
But the hard part is getting your work out there.
It’s like letting your baby out into the world. It’s like starting a new job. It’s like moving somewhere new.
Except, in some ways, it’s not like anything else at all.
Here’s the thing, when you write a book — at least when I write a book — it’s personal. Even if it’s not about me personally, it’s personal because I used the things about me that I like the most — my brain and my heart.
I wouldn’t be terribly offended if someone didn’t find me attractive. I would happily lose a game of poker. I would not mind one bit if someone told me how terrible I am at sports.
I’m not Miss America. I am terrible at card games. And I am even worse at anything even mildly athletic.
So I can walk through the world and not give two hoots about what people think when it comes to those things. I don’t need to be the belle of the ball. I don’t need to win a hand or cross the finish line.
But if someone doesn’t like my writing — well, then, commence the intense ego bruising.
Badass Manifesting, at her launch party (Photo by Thomas Guerrero)
So as much of a challenge as writing might be, it’s sharing it that’s daunting. What if people aren’t interested? What if they hate it? What if they say I’m a terrible writer, or, even worse, that I’m stupid? What if no one buys it? What if no one comes to my signings and events?
My latest tour started out with a delicious bang with a swanky launch party at the ultra-chic Hotel St. Augustine.
I got ready in my stunning suite, complete with private patio and pool access. My incredible hairdresser, Rubens Franz did my hair. My fantabulous make-up artist Cupcake Guerrero did my make-up and her fab husband Thomas Guerrero shot photos.
I even got to enter the soiree with him shooting me as I went.
The lounge where the event was held has a turntable. So I brought vinyl, which my friend DJ Bradley David Janacek, who brought his groovy selfie stand with a custom frame for the event, spun all night for me.
The place was packed. The fashion was fashioning. The bar was hopping. People bought books and collected swag and mixed and mingled, and some folks stayed for a fab dinner at the hotel’s restaurant Perseid.
It was downright glamorous. I felt like a rock star.
My appearance on Houston Life aired earlier that day. I had already been on Great Day Houston and Texas Today and AZ Family. I had recorded podcasts, like The Unicorn Project and booked tour stops. People were reading the book and loving it.
And then I hit the road …
I did events at three bookstores in the Chicago area, drove hours in traffic back and forth. One or two people showed up at each.
I did two stops in Dallas, including an influencer event, one of which garnered two attendees, the other six or seven.
Then it was off to California for three more stops in San Diego, Encinitas and Huntington Beach, all of which had the same dismal attendance, even though one of the famed ice cream makers from Kinrose Creamery, Maria Oveysi, brought ice cream to give away at the last one.
It was dismal and depressing. The only saving grace was staying with my fabulous friends in Chicago and getting to meet their new baby and staying with my amazing cousin in California and getting to hang out with them.
Still, it was hard. My little heart was broken.
It was like everyone was saying my baby was ugly. Or, maybe worse, they didn’t even want to take a look at her.
I had another stop in Houston after that. A few friends came, which was lovely. But the truth is, the tour was a flop. I spent some time moping, even cried a bit, actually started questioning my life choices. Was it too late to open a combination candy store and book shop?
But then I picked myself and dusted myself off and reminded myself that this is part of it. It’s all part of it. The writing is hard, some call it “bleeding on the page.” But putting your heart and mind out into the world to see, at least for me, is harder.
So why do it?
Because it matters. Writing matters. Art matters. Creating matters. And — most importantly — sharing our lives and ourselves and our truth with others matters. It’s the only way we can come together, the only way we can spark change and the only way we can hope to one day truly breathe. n