My first novel has been out for 9 months. Here are some things I've learned about great authorly expectations vs. the lived reality of putting a book into the world.
Great Expectations vs. Reality
I had my first child, a beautiful baby girl, in 2015. Like most expectant mothers, in the weeks leading up to her birth I pictured a magical movie moment when they’d place my child into my arms, and I’d feel an instant connection. I’d be overcome with love like I’d never felt before. I’d have a newfound perspective on humanity and life itself. I’d feel like a “real” mother.
Well, that’s not how it happened. Instead, after an emergency C-section, the first time I saw my baby girl she was in the gloved hands of surgeons, hovering in the air above me like a bloody Simba under the bright lights.
After that visual, I started retching and they proceeded to knock me out.
Hours later, when I finally got the chance to hold her, I was so drugged up I didn’t trust myself not to drop her. Needless to say, I didn’t feel like a real mom in that moment. I didn’t feel overcome with love. I just felt overwhelmed and inadequate. And that feeling didn’t go away for a while.
In fact, the first week we were home from the hospital, I distinctly remember wanting to text every friend who hadn’t procreated yet to warn them not to fall for the misinformation that motherhood is magical.
I drafted (then deleted) some kind of unhinged text like: “We’ve all been lied to in order to propagate the human race! This is a nightmare! It’s too late for me! Save yourself!”
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Expectations vs reality:
Expectation: I’ll feel like a real author when I hold my book in my hands.
Reality: Brain. Can’t. Compute.
Despite that experience with my daughter, I still thought the first time I held my bound and printed novel in my hands would be the transcendent moment I’d finally feel like a “real” author.
Spoiler: It wasn’t.
Instead, when I got boxes of advance copies to distribute, I nearly had a panic attack. It felt terrifying and overwhelming.
I completely disassociated from having anything to do with this very pretty stack of books in front of me.
It didn’t feel like I’d “arrived.” The books felt like a visual reminder of all of the work still ahead of me.
I share this story because, like motherhood, I’ve learned that the lived reality of publishing a book often looks or feels different than we may have imagined.
That doesn’t mean the magical moments won’t come—they will!
It just probably won’t be when, or how you expect, and it’s important not to judge yourself for that.
Expectation: I’m going to feel unstoppable once my book is out in the world.
Reality: You may want to crawl in a hole for a while.
TL;DR: For my next launch, I’m thinking of it as just one more milestone—not a make-it-or-break-it event. Being a career author is about playing the long game.
Turns out publishing a book is a major life transition. It’s risk. It’s exposure. It feels unsafe in a very visceral way (we’re taught to blend in to survive, after all.)
One invaluable lesson I’ve learned from this experience is:
Knowing yourself is a major part of a fulfilling creative life. Don’t make yourself “wrong” for not doing it the way someone else is doing it.
I crashed HARD after my launch. One book signing was enough to couch me, so I’ve learned I’m probably not ever going to be the person who wants to travel to a gazillion conventions or book festivals.
Some people like to do author talks at bookstores. Some people like to do signing events. Some people like to attend book festivals and fairs. Some throw parties. Some do book tours. Some make TikTok content. Some buy ads. Some visit book clubs (this is my personal favorite).
Bottom line: There are a lot of ways to sell books. Find the ways that feel the best to YOU and forget the rest. Zero guilt required.
Your marketing plan should fit your ideal lifestyle and honor your top priorities. Trying to do it all will lead to burnout FAST.
Expectation: I’ll celebrate when it’s finished.
Reality: Writing a book and getting it published is a LONG process. Don’t delay celebrating.
If birth = the book launch, what comes after is the real job. You’ve now made this thing that needs you to help it find its place in the world. Its people. Its purpose. And just like being a parent, you’re now an author for the rest of your life.
But that doesn’t change the fact that it took years of work and sacrifice just to get to that point. And, like parenthood, a lot of the work writers do is invisible and the payoff is delayed.
That’s why it’s so important to celebrate the small wins and milestones along the way.
With my debut, I felt strange celebrating turning in my “final” manuscript because I knew I still had to review the proofread. Then, I didn’t celebrate finishing that because I was going to do another full read-through once it was in layout. The list goes on.
This time, for my sophomore novel, I’m celebrating the milestones. Sometimes it’s as simple as acknowledging it to my family or posting the update on social. Other times, it’s booking some self-care like a facial or a massage or buying myself something I’ve been eyeing.
The truth is, as much as I love solo work, no one is coming to pat me on the back for a job well done. No one is coming to give me a promotion or a bonus.
I’ve learned that, as authors, we have to celebrate the journey because there really isn’t a destination.
Expectation: It will all feel worth it when a reader says…
Reality: External praise cannot be the point.
I used to think the words of affirmation from readers would be the thing that made it all feel worthwhile. And I’d be lying if I said praise doesn’t feel good. It does.
We share our work because we hope our words will help someone else feel seen.
BUT—I’ve learned praise isn’t enough. The truth is, the positive feedback is rewarding, but the feeling is fleeting. I imagine it’s similar to the high a musician gets from performing on stage. The cheers feel incredible, but when the spotlight fades, they’re still them. All of their fears and insecurities still exist. And, inevitably, there will be haters, and, as humans, often the criticisms hurt more than the praise heals.
I’ve realized the only thing that makes it all worthwhile is the process itself.
I honestly sort of hate finishing the creative part of writing a book. When I’m finished, I miss assembling the puzzle. I miss the characters. I miss escaping into the story. I miss sending myself emails with new scene ideas or dialogue that pops into my mind at midnight. I genuinely love the process of crafting a story.
That’s what makes it worthwhile.
The writing is the reward.
Love,
Kristina
