THE QUILL & THE INKPOT

This is the eleventh post in my ABCs of Writing series: Post K

Ever since I published my book, I’ve been wanting to write a post about my experience with self-publishing. I also wanted to add another installation to my ABCs series. So, after browsing through far too many lists of “words that start with k” (which are quite interesting, by the way), I realized I was procrastinating rather than writing and made myself pick two k words for this post:

Knackered: to be exhausted, very tired
Kvell: to be delighted, extraordinarily pleased; especially, to be bursting with pride

When I finally made the difficult (for me) decision to self-publish my book, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I could list out all the ways self-publishing is hard, but I don’t know that the world needs yet another post on the difficulties of formatting your work, getting it onto publishing platforms, etc. Instead, I’ll focus on the post-publishing challenges that surprised me and left me even more knackered than the logistics of getting my book published in the first place. Then we’ll pivot to how I’m working to turn that knackering into kvelling and send you on your merry way…

I always knew that once my work was published I would have to face the opinions of the world, the critics and judges, the 1-star reviews and snide comments that would surely come. What I didn’t foresee was that the general conversations—especially the compliments—about my book were almost worse.

I’m a fairly private person, and I don’t go out of my way to get attention. My writing has always been mine—intimate and personal. My works are my creation, born out of my innermost thoughts and feelings, and even though I always hoped that other people would get to read my writing, the thought of opening myself up in that fashion was terrifying.

It’s a conundrum faced by every introverted writer. I wrote something that I want people to read and talk about—I just don’t want them to talk to me about it. And if they do talk to me about it, I don’t trust them, especially if they’re saying something good.

Sure, you said you liked my book, but really, did you? I know it’s not your genre, so how could you like it? Are you just complimenting me because you know me and don’t want to hurt my feelings?

Trying to silence the ever-growing voice of my impostor syndrome and making my introverted self talk to people about something I’ve protected so closely for so long—honestly, just talking to people in general—have made me even more knackered than making it through the difficulties of the publishing process itself.

So how do I turn the corner? How do I transform the emotional exhaustion into pride and triumph? I let myself be self-centered. I stop caring about what other people are saying or thinking (as if I could even know that). I focus on me, and I kvell.

Do I like what I wrote? Why, yes. Yes, I do.
Am I proud of what I accomplished? Hell, yeah.
Is it perfect? No, but who cares?

And I leave it there.

Until the doubts creep in two seconds later, that is. Then I do it again. And again. I’m allowed to kvell. I should kvell. And I’m going to keep kvelling.