Well, lovelies, I’ve got my opinion. I was inspired by Amanda Palmer (my favorite musician) to write this stream of consciousness style blog in the same style she writes her own, because I had an amazing opportunity last week to spend lots of time around many of the authors that Blushing has. The publisher ‘Blushing Books‘ added their own author event onto the front end of the RT Conference in Atlanta, and it was probably one of the most refreshing, invigorating events I’ve ever experienced.

And do you want to know why?

It was a ton of authors shoved into spaces together, to spend time together.

Now, let me talk to all of you for a minute on why this is so fucking special. Normally, when authors crawl out of their houses, force themselves out of their mostly introverted shells, it’s for an event to sell books. Which is in bold and underlined print because that’s exactly what it is. We’re supposed to be “on” the entire time. We’re supposed to represent our brand, our publishers, our books, and obviously this also means talking to all of our readers – which we completely love to do… but it leaves very little time for author-on-author chat.

Honestly? It usually leaves no time for honest author-on-author chat.

This does not mean we don’t love events, we do! We absolutely do. There’s nothing more thrilling as an author than getting a message, or meeting a fan, and having them be just as excited about a character or a story as you were. Hell, we spent weeks and/or months of our lives writing those characters/stories into life because we loved them so much. We fucking WANT to talk about them, but…

that’s not everything an author needs.

And, that is what became clear to me last week in Atlanta. So, the rest of this post is really for the authors, but I invite everyone to sit down and read and see things from my (our?) perspective.

So, what’s the worst thing in the publishing industry?

The bullshit.

That’s right, the bullshit. The petty, backstabbing, one-upmanship that makes all of us feel shitty, and sad, and want to crawl back into our introverted holes of anonymity where we never have to put on pants. Because, seriously, why should we put on pants just to be reminded that we’re not as famous / not as monetized / not as popular / not as highly ranked as the next author with their name on a cover? It. Fucking. Sucks.

Pants suck.

But you know what I saw last week at the Blushing Books author meet-up? Not a speck of that. I didn’t see a single bit of petty bullshit. Even the publisher who was putting on the event didn’t get in our faces. They threw us a party, and let us chat. They held events, and let us hang out. We spent time together, and we VENTED. We vented about the exhaustion of being authors. Some of us have day jobs, some of us are parents, spouses, in relationships, have to clean our damn houses and grocery shop, and still run a social media empire like we’re the fucking Kardashians (except none of us are making that kind of fucking money). And yeah, we vented about ALL of our frustrations. We vented about our publishers, about Amazon, about readers and reviews and the exhausting and never-ending cycle that we are always in.

How successful was your last book? How many reviews did you get? Where is your book ranked? What kind of reviews did you get? Did anyone important review your book? Have you been shared anywhere? Did you pay for advertising? How much did you spend on advertising? Where did you advertise? Did you get your stock photos somewhere specific? Was there a guy on the cover? A girl? A couple? Were they sexy? Was it abstract? WHAT IN THE FUCKING HELL DID YOU DO EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY OF YOUR ENTIRE LIFE SO WE CAN DISSECT IT AND DECIDE IF YOU DID IT RIGHT OR NOT?!

^^^ That shit?

Exhausting.

Bullshit.

OMFG WHY DO WE DO THIS?

Well…

We’re obsessed with our stories, our characters, and we finally got our hands on a keyboard to put them down on paper and then we threw them to the wolves just so we could have the privilege of joining in that insane fucking cycle that does its best to break us all down.

But you know what the best part of last week was? As we all let out our frustrations, our exhaustion, our gripes, every single beautiful author there was tipping back their drink of choice – from water, to tea, to wine, to vodka – and they were listening. And echoing. And supporting. And loving. And welcoming. We talked in events, and dinners. We giggled in hallways, and on balconies under the setting sun. We cursed, and spoke in a variety of accents, and… we communed.

We reminded each other that we’re not alone in this, no matter how alone we feel sometimes. We’re not the only ones tearing our hair out at 2am staring at the ranks and begging for just a tiny jump in points so we can reach that next goal in our heads. We’re not the only author in the world that reads a review that hurts, tries to act like an adult and brush it off, but still pours an extra drink, or adds an extra scoop of ice cream, or cracks open a bag of potato chips just to feel better.

We’re not alone.

What’s amazing about this weird job, whether it’s your full-time job or just one of many, whether you’re amazingly successful… or not… is that you ARE alone in it, and it’s hard.

It’s so fucking hard.

And we are answerable to everyone. It’s a constant process of pouring out of our own cup, and waiting / begging / pleading / sacrificing to the gods of the book world to get our own cups refilled even a little. To see our book do well. To hear praise from our publisher. To read the good reviews. To get the messages / emails / facebook comments / tweets from readers who loved the book we wrote. But that is a lonely waiting game, and since we almost all do this solo, it’s really, really hard.

So, I think we need more of that. We need to bottle the magic that happened at the Blushing author’s event and spread it. We need to support each other. Give each other that “YES! YOU FUCKING DID IT! THE BOOK IS OUT! POP THE DAMN CHAMPAGNE!”

THAT!!!!

… eeeeeven if we haven’t had the time to read the book. Because we all know we barely have time to write our own books, much less read all the books these amazing authors put out. We have to ration our time like water in the desert, because no one is making more time, but we all have the few seconds to hit the share button. To say something nice. To click the like / love / giggle button and give someone a smile. We all have a few minutes to remind each other that we’re not fucking alone in this.

There’s no need to backstab, to connive, to attack, to plot against anyone except for the villains in our own books.

Whether you’re an indie author, loyal to a publisher, or a hybrid of some weird combination – you should be proud. Even if your book never hits a bestseller spot. Even if you never get a “title”. Even if you have 5 reviews on all of your books combined… you fucking did it. You wrote the thing. You did the work. You spent the time.

You have a book.

Last week I saw authors making 10x what I make in a month hanging out in a hotel room with authors who wanted to be where I am right now. Not a single person put another author down. Not a single person made a snide comment about a shitty cover, or a poorly edited book, or a bad plot, or a weak character. No one logged onto Amazon in the middle of our hang-out to leave a snarky 1-star review from a secret account.

THERE WAS NO BULLSHIT.

It was a goddamn fucking utopia of authors, and it made me realize that we are the ones in control of that. Taking readers and publishers and editors and industry shit out of the equation – all that’s left is the authors. We’re just a bunch of awkward oddballs with too many people talking in our heads to allow us to be normal. We’re the weirdos who stay up at all hours and write. We’re the ones who can’t resist getting those words down on paper, even if we’re not sure anyone will ever read it. We’re the ones who still make meals, clean up, drive to work or the grocery or to the kid’s whatever, and then come back and try to write the words. Try to capture the story. Try to put these words down on paper before we lose them.

Can’t we just celebrate that?

Can’t we just have a drink (of whatever) and give each other that knowing nod of ‘I get it. I know it’s hard. It’s hard for me too’?

I think we can. I think we can lift each other up. I think we can acknowledge when someone else is suffering, and instead of ignoring it, we can reach out. We can share a little love. We can celebrate each other when someone succeeds, and comfort each other when we fail. We can do so much more with this than we are right now, because we have the words for it. Words are our fucking SKILL.

We can tell each other the right things.

We can say we care.

We can listen.

We can love.

So, since it’s my birthday today, all I’m going to ask for my birthday present is for you to pick an author (not me) and tell them something good. Whether you’ve read one of their books or not, see them on Facebook, or Twitter, or wherever, and say something kind. Say something uplifting. Say something loving. Tell them you get it. Tell them you understand, that you’ve been there, and if you want some bonus karma points? Listen to them.

Listen to each other.

Support each other.

We’re all in this together, no matter what genre we write, and we have enough on our plates without fighting each other.

And, just remember, even though I’m an average author with an average set of books, I’m still here to listen if you need it, lovelies, because I adore each and every fucking one of you.

You got this.

 

 

 

 

 

P.S. – Pants still suck. That’s not changing, no matter how much positivity we put out. Let’s be positive AND pantsless. That’s even better.

P.P.S. – Share this if you want to spread some love. It might reach someone who needs to hear it. I know I could have used it 10 years ago! <3