I had a book reading last weekend. A woman entered the small library which had given me space for a reading my stories. She dialed her phone and called someone as she entered. She whispered and I overheard her say that she was the only one there.
It was 7.08 pm and the reading was to start at 7.00 pm. My wife sat in the first row and the woman took a seat a few rows behind her. I tried to ask my wife if we should just leave. She stared back at me with a smile.
A writer’s life, I have to come to realize, is one swirling vortex of neediness. It seems like just writing your stories isn’t enough. The neediness starts right after that. It need not be that way though it is.
An editor to edit, a proof reader to read, a designer to design, a publisher to publish are the first level needs after the book is finished. In today’s world, I can bypass some of them though, and get the book ready for launch into the world of real readers.
That’s when the vortex catches steam.
The day the book is ‘launched’ is quite an anti-climax. The day which I used to think was supposed to be the zenith of a few months of work most certainly turns out to be a lot of noise and a damp squib.
After my first book was released, I emailed everyone I knew that I have a book ready. After that, me and my permanent audience of my wife, son and everyone in my close family and friends put the message up on their Facebook and wherever else.
Then they told everyone to take some time to read my book. And then, I gave an interview, a press release, sent a copy to a reviewer. (I discovered there were real people interested in my book copies – for some reason I have still not found out!)
Then after a few weeks, I requested them and everyone else to write a review on Amazon.
I needed everyone to do something for me. Not many did anything, which was not really their fault.
Don’t get me wrong. People are supportive, incredibly supportive, but it is mainly because they like the fact that I wrote a book or a story, not because they read and liked it. They like and comment on the statuses, on the book excerpts, they tweet about it, they forward the links. It is the most passive and often tacit form of support. Some send messages of congratulations, exclamations on my great ‘achievement’, many send emails about how much they appreciate me writing a book.
Some people ask for signed copies. It appears like readers and non-authors have a special charm about getting an author-signed copy. Some ask where they can get the book, when will the paperback be out (most of my books are first released in e-book format), how they can share the link and so much more.
All of it is incredibly special. Some read a story. Some comment on a blog post, give a thumbs up to a review. But most of the people who know me don’t buy and read the book.
The actual people who buy and read the book are the ones who I don’t know. They just happen to discover my book and find it interesting.
After a few books written and released by now, I find that to be true and normal. I find myself to be absolutely fine with it. So I keep writing and follow the same process and get another book ready.
Well, if someone reads a story and tells me that they enjoyed it, I must admit that the validation feels great. But I must also say, with a pinch of truly humble salt, that that is not the real point of why I, or anyone else, writes.
The real point of writing is in the writing itself. It is in the turning up to write. The true joy is in doing the work of writing, of telling stories, with love and commitment.
Most of the time, despite the swirling vortex of neediness that envelops a writer’s life, that is all I or any writer really needs.
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