High Highs, Low Lows, & Everything In Between

What it's really like launching a book into the world

“How is the book launch going?”

It’s a question I’m asked a lot these days, both from close friends and peripheral peers alike. In the same way you look at a pregnant lady and can’t help but comment on what’s about to happen, my impending book launch seems to be easy small talk, second only to the weather. 

“It’s … going!” I say, stretching my lips into a smile. 

Sometimes I expand, sometimes I shrink. How much is too much to tell? Should I tell them how awkward and embarrassed I feel sometimes about this whole thing? How much I waver between This Is A Huge Deal (in my house) and This Isn’t A Big Deal At All (out there in the real world)? Should I tell them about the demons plaguing my mind in the middle of the night? Or that I cried happy tears the day I learned my book got into Target?

Should I tell them I feel naked and exposed and terrified, but also fulfilled and content? 

When people ask how the book launch is going, do they really want to know? Are they just being polite? Does anyone actually care?

(Don’t answer that.)

Alas, I know a lot of my readers are writers. And I know a lot of writers are genuinely curious about the behind-the-scenes of publishing, so I’m writing this for them, and for anyone else who truly wants to know. 

From the high highs to the low lows and everything in between, here’s an honest stream of consciousness of what it’s really like launching a book into the world …

I should probably come up with a better opening line, but the one that keeps coming to mind is: I am so, so grateful—and I am so, so tired. 

I’ve recorded a lot of podcasts in the past eight weeks. I could not tell you what I said on any of them. I could not tell you if I sound smart or dumb, if I appear eloquent or fumbling over my words. I remember in one particular interview, I felt like I laughed too much. I caught myself, several times, just laughing hysterically like a contestant on the Bachelor who’s had one too many cocktails. Was the conversation genuinely funny? Was I simply nervous? I don’t recall. I only remember apologizing at the end. I’m sorry I laughed too much! I said, probably laughing as I apologized (Lord, make it stop!). I remember her thinking it was odd that I would apologize for such a thing. And I remember giving myself a pep talk before the next interview: don’t laugh so much. You sound like an idiot. 

Some days I worry I’m talking about the book too much. The next day, I worry I’m not talking about it enough. Marketing experts say people have to hear a message seven times before they take action. Seven times!

(A lot of authors I watch online seem to aim for 82.) 

(It’s a bit much, no?)

Late at night I worry about finding typos, for I have yet to read the actual book, printed and bound, cover to cover. Late at night I also panic that I have accidentally plagiarized someone. A random quote from another book will float into my mind and I will sit up in bed with a jolt. Did I use that? Did I quote that? Did I accidentally steal someone else’s sentence? Twice now I have gone hunting through my manuscript with two different books in hand, cross-referencing. Deep exhale. She said this. I said that. There is no bigger relief. 

Right now my book is still in a safe container. Literally, I assume it’s being shipped around the world in cardboard boxes or crates (how does this work? I have no idea!).

But what happens when Create Anyway is no longer hiding in the dark? What happens when copies start making their way into the light of day, landing on doorsteps with a thud and being arranged on store shelves? I can feel my chest tightening, my fists clenching. I sense God reminding me this was always the plan, the main point, for people to actually read the book. I’m like a kid backstage about to pee their pants. I know my lines; I’ve been rehearsing for months. The show’s about to start. The auditorium is filling up, so many people are settling into their chairs. I can’t do this. I’ve changed my mind. Bring in the understudy, please! I beg you!

God smiles. There is no understudy. I wrote this part for you, remember?

What am I scared of? Everything. Bad Amazon reviews for one. I hate admitting that, but I’d be lying if I told you I never thought about it. I’m scared of failure, of letting people down, of being a huge disappointment, especially after hyping this book up seven whole times. Gosh, the embarrassment.

I’m worried women are going to read this book and think “meh.”

I’m worried I’m going to read it at some point, probably when I record the audiobook, and also think “meh.” Or, more likely, wow this book is terrible; what have I done?!

Brett and I got in a fight the other night. The fight wasn’t about the book at all, but somehow it was, because the book is part of everything now, like a molecule in the air we breathe. I want to tell you how angry I felt in that moment, and how I knew, even though my anger was justified (or so I thought), underneath the anger was really just … stress. Heaps and heaps of pressure boiling under the surface, a hyper awareness of all this month holds. I stormed off, determined to sleep on the couch. I needed space, I needed to be alone, I needed to be dramatic, apparently. Before I set up camp, I rage tidied the room, which looked like flinging a remote control across the rug and throwing a pillow at a chair, which accidentally knocked a plant to the floor. Dirt spilled everywhere. I whisper-screamed a bad word and tried very hard not to cry.

(That may or may not have been the day I re-ordered my PMS vitamins.)

That’s the thing about book launch season. Your real life keeps swirling all around you in the midst of the angst and the nerves and the deadlines and the panic. Everything keeps humming right along, in spite of your 3am insomnia and dark thoughts. There is still all the normal stuff. Work. Taxes. You’re out of bananas, again. The children have fevers. The childcare is canceled. The school is closed for yet another winter break. You fight with your husband. The children are barfing. Oh look, your period is here! It’s raining. The ants are back.

(Have I mentioned that me and Dom, our pest control guy, have a regular text thread at this point? He’s quickly becoming one of the top contacts in my phone.)

So those are some of the lows, but how about the highs? Plenty of those to go around, too. This book review made me cry. One podcast interviewer, a complete stranger to me, took ten minutes to encourage me off the air at the end of our recording. She raved about the book, told me the direct impact it had on her, and I don’t remember if I was PMSing or if this is just who I am now, but I legit had tears falling down my cheeks, right there on Zoom with some kind lady I didn’t even know. 

I recently recruited a group of women to be on my launch team. The answers to the question, “Why do you want to be on the launch team for Create Anyway?” left me sobbing. They were so kind. So generous. So over-the-top. I felt, and continue to feel, undeserving of their enthusiasm.

I didn’t think the book would get into Target. I had hoped, of course, as many authors do. If you’re not in the industry, this might mean nothing to you, but how books get into Target remains A Complete Mystery. Everyone I’ve ever talked to has said as much—publishers, editors, agents, authors—no one knows how the system works. It’s like if Sudoku married a Rubik’s Cube and they had a baby resembling a calculus problem. Who can solve this riddle?! 

“We’ll try our best, but there are no guarantees.” 

My publisher said this to me no less than five times. Even after Create Anyway was in the hands of the Target rep, the general vibe I got was, “it’s not looking good.” Eventually I stopped asking.

The day I got the email, I cried. Create Anyway will be in something like 1,800 Target stores from April 10th-May 15th. Someone pinch me. I still can’t believe it. 

I dedicated this book to my children, and also to my best friend Katie. I’ve kept it a secret from her for over a year. I was going to wait to show her the dedication in person, but recently, after a small text miscommunication went awry, I sent her a peek of the first page as a gesture.

She sobbed. So did I.

And I need you to know: that moment meant more to me than Target.

I want to tell you how many pieces of my life this book has touched. My work. My motherhood and marriage. My friendships. My faith. I want to tell you I am a better person for writing it, and that even if Create Anyway is a total flop, I would do it all over again simply for what this experience has taught me about writing and obedience, trust and surrender. 

Here’s something unexpected. For as much as this book has felt—and continues to feel at times—all-consuming, I am simultaneously experiencing a healthy detachment from it. 

Create Anyway is in the air I breathe, but it’s also, at the exact same time, just one thing I’ve made. I don’t want to downplay the work or the labor or the magnitude of this moment, but I’m learning how important it is to keep this book in its proper place. I worked on Create Anyway, more or less, for two-and-a-half years. In a lot of ways, this book has been writing itself in me for over a decade.

And yet, I am not this book. And this book is not me.

I recently heard a fellow author share that he burned the first copy of his book to prove this very point—that his book was not his identity, and vice versa. I felt my eyebrows raise on the Zoom call, but refrained from gasping in horror. The more he explained the symbolism, the more I understood it. (FWIW: I’m not going to burn my book. It’s too pretty.)

I want you to know that every single chapter of this book is something I am still living out. Imposter syndrome: check. Fear: check. Wild insecurities: check. Making space to create in a season where it feels like I hardly have time to brush my teeth: CHECK.

It’s all still there. It’s all still true.

And in a way, knowing I am still living out the message of this book gives me a great deal of comfort. I have not arrived. I am not an expert. 

I’m simply a mom trying to create in the margins of her days, desperate to encourage other women who are doing the same.

Some days I feel proud, and some days I want to crawl under the covers and hide. Some days I am excited and confident; other days I am a nervous, anxious wreck. Some days are great, and some days are terrible. That’s life, and that’s what it’s really like launching a book into the world.

Thanks for coming on the ride with me.

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21 days (!). In the words of Ross Geller, “I’m fine!”

You can pre-order Create Anyway wherever books are sold. If pre-order freebies are your thing, I’ve got those, too. ❤️

Photos by Sasha Pahl.