When I self-published my book, admittedly, it was the last resort. It was the backup plan if I had failed to sell it to a trade publisher. I promised myself that if I couldn’t sell it, or find an agent to represent me, I would not tuck it in a drawer and forget about it. No. I worked too hard. If that happened, I would self-publish. That promise reassured me during the querying and submissions. It was comforting until it was my reality. I didn’t think I’d ever need the backup plan.
Quickly, the consolation prize felt very much like a booby prize. It was difficult for me to warm up to the plan I had planned. I felt like a failure. It’s hard enough to self-publish a book (as I would soon find out) when you’re excited. How would I attack this endeavor now, feeling half-hearted and insecure? A bunch of rejections could really make you feel differently about the book you were (once) proud of. continue reading