On Releasing My First Book: Lusting for Love

Twelve days ago, I hit the “send” button on a newsletter that would transport my first book to 114 people scattered about this planet. In the ensuing 12 days, 40 others would join my fold and also see my first book born in their inbox — born bloody, naked, and afraid. So very afraid.

Within hardly an hour or two, I was already receiving tweets about it. It — my book. My first book. My soul. My 26-year collection of confessions.

My baby.

In the first 12 days of my first book’s life, I’ve received more tweets, Facebook messages, emails, texts, and phone calls than I could possibly count and, at times, keep up with.

In a word, releasing my first book has been overwhelming.

In two words? Joyously overwhelming.

In three words? Joyously weightily overwhelming.

Those first few days, I was initially relieved, then overjoyed. People were actually resonating with this book. Enjoying it. Calling it beautiful and poignant. People that weren’t my immediate family or closest circle of friends who didn’t have to go out of their way to tell me those things. Affirm the book.

Affirm me.

I’ve been blogging here for a year and a half, and the fulfillment I’ve received as a writer these last 12 days cannot be articulated in a mere blog post. The fulfillment I’ve received as a human — a broken inadequate horribly messed up human — even more unable to articulate.

What do you do when 150 people — many of them unknown “fans” — sign up for some guy’s innocent little newsletter, and many of them read his entire first book within 48 hours and tell him it’s beautiful? He’s beautiful?

Over the last 12 days, it’s been a tale of two stories.

The first 6 days, I was beyond Cloud Nine; I was on Cloud Nine Million. I was receiving messages from high school folks I’d not communicated with in over half a decade, and I was receiving messages from folks I’ve never even met. Precious people from all over, affirming me and my worth.

The next 6 days?

Awful.

Like, I’m not even exaggerating: these last 6 days have been awful.

I received so much abounding love and affirmation those first 6 days, and I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to wake up every morning and have 5 Facebook messages and 5 emails and 5 missed text messages waiting for me. Wanted to have people praise me day in and day out.

It felt good. Felt so good to be praised so continuously like that.

But then the responses tapered off. The 5 Facebook messages turned to 3 emails turned to 0 missed texts. Was nobody reading my book anymore? What was taking everyone else so long to finish it? Did they just not like it? Did they not get it? Get me?

Did everyone else hate my first book?

I began to feel needy. So very needy. And beyond selfish.

Consider this post my “13th confession” — and counting.

TMZ at La Jolla

In the author’s note of Struggle Central, I made it clear that the book’s first draft was all about ME. And then somewhere between the first word and the last, the book’s central focus changed. Changed from telling the world the broken/redeemed/ongoing story of Me to telling the world the broken/redeemed/ongoing story of Us.

Us. Strugglers. Each and every one of us.

This book was a book that used to be about Me, and then it became a book about Us — and then somewhere over the last 6 days, it became a book all about Me again.

Forget the 50 folks who have reached out to me and affirmed my existence. Forget them all. Because I needed more. More affirmation. More acceptance.

More love. Where’s the rest of it??

Last night I reached a breaking point:

What’s wrong with me?

I’ll admit, much of my recent anxiety of the last 6 days has stemmed from a never-ending waiting process while my first book transitions from free PDF to purchasable listing on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. I wish the book could just be ready and listed in a blink, but it can’t. Will take at least another pain-staking week or two before my book is born “for real.”

But that can’t be my only excuse. The only reason for my obsessive lust for love.

I was so overwhelmed with love those first 6 days, and last night beyond love’s borders, I rediscovered my brokenness. The very reason I wrote this book in the first place.

Maybe my first book will sell 150 copies, and maybe it’ll sell far less. Or maybe far more. Or maybe some average number in the middle.

I don’t know what this book will do from a Me standpoint. But I do know what it’s already done for an Us standpoint. I’ve read the messages. Read about the tears and the thankfulness for this story.

Thank you. Thank you, all.

Whether every last reader hates my first book from here on out, I’ve heard from so many precious people already, and I’ve been thoroughly reminded of my purpose on this planet.

Yes, I’m a writer; yes, I’m now an author. Yes, I’m redeemed.

But I’m also a struggler.

Yes…I still struggle.

8 Comments
Jim 30 April 2013
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I read your book nearly in one sitting. It was that good. I can’t wait to buy it on Amazon, not because I want to read it again but because it is worth the $10 to support you as a writer and as a fellow Christian struggling in this fallen world. I once had a dog I loved like you did Anne and when I read the part about Anne’s death it brought back all the tears and grief when I lost my dog.

foglight11 29 April 2013
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I honestly have so many questions and comments about everything I have read. It helped me understand a lot about you, and all of it only made me more honoured to have you as a friend. I was just concerned with you being too overwhelmed with responses and questions that I thought I would give you a break to sort them all out! I am sure that’s the case with many people!

I know that I never stop needing that feeling of love and acceptance from people.

MLYaksh 29 April 2013
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Oh, it’s so VERY, very hard when that showing of love stops. When I was a musician, one of my favorite things about giving recitals or performances was the love shown afterwards. The hugs, the compliments, the joy- it was like a drug. And as such, I needed it more the more I got it. Eventually, my only reason for performing was for that love. No other reason was great enough. And the withdrawal was the worst.

What I eventually learned was a lesson I still forget. The lesson- people who truly love me will love me even after they show it. For whatever reason, I have such a shallow concept of something so much greater. I believe that someone can show me love through a word or a hug and then, as soon as the word/hug is gone, the love leaves with it. I can’t see it though, so I automatically believe it’s gone. I get depressed, wonder what I did wrong, and start to grow distant from people. Then, they’ll show me love again and I wonder why it suddenly came back. Truth be told, it never left or went anywhere- I just stopped believing it existed.

Now, I’m not saying you should accept someone now showing love regularly. I’m just reminding you that people do love you, even if they aren’t texting you every single day. However, you aren’t alone in this struggle, much like your book pointed out. Stay strong, keep learning, and trust that Jesus is ready to fill you with all the love you could possibly ever handle. 🙂

Rebecka 29 April 2013
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Once again I am inspired and impressed by your honesty. What an insightful and important post. I must confess I still haven’t finished your book. Not because I don’t like it though, promise!