I feel a bit cringy about all of the positive news regarding my memoir. Am I bragging? Showing off? Much like my post regarding authenticity, I want to acknowledge that there have been disappointments too along the way. Here are some examples:
- My Unexpected Life was named a Notable 100 Book in the 2023 Shelf Unbound Best Indie Book Competition but didn’t make the Top 10 in the BookLife Prize contest.
- It won a Gold Book Award from Literary Titan but didn’t make the cut in Foreword INDIES Book of the Year.
- I won a Red Ribbon from The Wishing Shelf Book Awards but didn’t get an award from Reader Views
- My memoir was named Nonfiction Book of the Year by The Chrysalis BREW Project in 2024 but received a 40% rating from Self-Publishing Review
Of course, I am grateful for the wins. But part of me thinks if my book resonates with some people, why doesn’t it matter to everyone?
In many ways I get it. Writing is subjective. There is no such thing as a memoir that is unanimously loved. And that’s okay.
Yet my fantasy of being a New York Times bestseller or an Oprah’s Book Club pick continues to grow. Each morning, I anxiously check websites for listings of award winners, finalists, or mentions of My Unexpected Life. I peruse my social media for new followers and likes, in hopes that a prominent influencer has shown an interest in me and my story.
Not receiving recognition from every award I submit to, however, has been a good thing too. It’s humbling and makes me want to be a better writer. I am reminded that I am new to this literary world and there is much more to learn.
As a new indie author, I am rolling my way along this path, launching a book and trying to find a way to grow my audience. It’s not a straight, flat line. How boring would that be? The hills, twists, and turns make it exciting.
But the question remains, what do I post about my losses? Do I post anything? Give occasional updates similar to this one? How do you feel about your wins and losses? Do you celebrate them both?
I’d love to know your thoughts. . .
Until the next. . .
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