Revealing yourself as a debut author is about being vulnerable.
A good friend had a problem once where he showed up for training without a key article of clothing. After some humiliating borrowing from others, he managed to obtain the necessary item, but had–essentially–shown up to work “naked.” The ribbing and jokes continued for a long while afterward. I understood the experience entirely.
Giving someone your first book that not a soul has read is about as much terror as I can handle. I have written more than one book alone in my little vacuum of an office. Unseen, unheard, and unembarrassed. Writers are the introverts on the fringes of what the world considers “ordinary.” (IYKYK) New authors hang on the opinions of millions of people we don’t know and might not have gotten along with anyway.
Of course, if we were all social butterflies, I don’t think we would have so many imaginary friends. We wouldn’t need to worry about convincing the world at large–with words alone–to love them as much as we do. Characters are parts of ourselves and their struggles sprout from our fears. The things they love and the things they suffer are partly our loves and our sufferings. Any time you pick up a book, you’re looking at some naked author. Trust me.
Handing off a new book you’ve done 2 versions 4 drafts of 8 edits of to a stranger…. is mortifying. You’re inviting opinions–in some cases paying for their honest reviews–on your literary baby just coming into the world. Authors show up to work naked every day and, come hell or high water, the job is to be brave and… un-offended.
Be kind.
I know I have no control over the thoughts or feelings of another. You cannot make someone love your new book any more than you could make them fall in love with you. Many of tomorrow’s incredible new authors risk being scared off by harsh criticism too early in their lives. Their books will remain ghosts forever, just because they aren’t comfortable in a bikini.
Come to think of it, in the front of my very favorite holiday tale, A Christmas Carol, there is an easily-overlooked introduction that reads:
I have endeavored with this Ghostly little book to raise the Ghost of an Idea, which shall not put my readers out of humor with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their houses pleasantly, and no one wish to lay it.
C. Dickens
A pleasant haunting would be great because he other side to this is a paralyzing fear of offending people. I would hate for someone to be bothered by the things I show them or the depths I go to keep characters genuine and real. I can only hope that “scar on my hip” doesn’t make another person uncomfortable enough to give me a bad review…
I cannot hope to hold up my comparatively paltry fantasy writing beside the prose of so great an author as Mr. Dickens. However, it is the sentiment I hope to carry away from his words. This isn’t a Christmas tale I have written, of course, but our lives have many seasons. Have you ever picked up a book you hated five years ago and then fallen in love with it? I can only hope the readers would be so kind. The next time you see me I might look better in a bikini.
The literary version of this first impression even happened to me with a few popular romance series books for no reason at all. I read the first book when it came out years ago. I couldn’t get through it, but after a second look, I’m addicted. I’m also delighted to say some of these books have been by writers so much better than myself I’ve learned from them. There might be no accounting for taste, but first impressions can be unreliable, inconsistent, fleeting things too–especially when it comes to naked authors trussed up like fantasy or romance books.
Owning vulnerability as a debut author… is about grace.
Here I am a real grownup author for the first time and I am doing this publishing venture (as bravely as possible) for myself. I want to share things I write only so that someone else can enjoy them with me. It’s too easy to fall into a trap of self hatred over creation. It’s too easy to hate what you see in the mirror because you’re afraid someone else might be able to point out all your imperfections.
This haunting little song by Ms. Allison Pontheir means something different now that I’m no longer just an audience member…
In truth, I feel exposed and embarrassed showing you all my book–not because it is or isn’t good, but because it will be me inside out and standing there on a book store shelf hoping you like me. The musings of romance are mine, the sexual fantasies are mine, and the characters are facets of my timid little writer soul. I have feared vulnerability forever–as an unliked, misunderstood teenager, and then as an easily intimidated adult–before I found my power and stopped giving it away.
As it was for Anna, then, it shall be for me. Growth comes whether you’re comfortable with it or not.
At least this author knows enough to see it coming.
Love and gratitude from my own harshest critic,
