Asking Myself Why, Post-Pub Edition
By Vaughn Roycroft | September 25, 2023 |
It’s been five years since I posted the last essay here in which I ask why I put myself though the topsy-turvy pursuit of writing fiction. As I said then, I find the process worthy of reexamining because the answers inevitably change. It’s never been truer than it is now, coming up on the one-year anniversary of the publication of my debut. Which means that this time I need to ask myself not just why I’m still writing, but why I should bother to continue my publication journey.
Since it’s occupied most of my attention over the last couple of years, I’ll start with publishing.
My Pub Position
Besides propped at the end of the bar nursing a pint, what is my pub position? For anyone who might be new around here, I should probably start with a brief overview. I write epic fantasy. I worked for over a decade on a trilogy, of which the first edition was my debut. After pursuing a traditional deal for several years, I decided to self-publish. I’d initially planned on having all three books published within a year. That obviously hasn’t happened. There are a variety of reasons for the delay in book two’s arrival, which I’ll leave for another post. The second and third books should appear in fairly short succession, but I’ve learned to not make predictions. Well, not public ones, anyway.
For an overview of the marketplace, mine was one of over four million titles to release in 2022, a year during which book sales were down about 4.5%. The growth of self-publishing has led to an unprecedented number of new books, and the latest tools and resources provide those of us who choose the path with an unprecedented means to offer a quality product. I’m very pleased with the physical quality of my offering. It is far from alone in a sea of gorgeous, enticing fantasy releases.
Beyond having a beautiful book in a sea of beautiful books, how am I doing? I’m going to be totally honest here and say that I don’t know—not exactly. I’ve learned that keeping track of sales data is harmful to my mental health. Doing so undeniably impedes my ability to make progress with anything writing-related. I find anything involving comparison to be particularly adverse to the creative process. Meanwhile, not keeping track of sales data is hardly an astute business practice. There are indicators that can’t be ignored, of course. For example, I have been stunned by the number of you—WU contributors and regulars—who bought, read, reviewed, reached out, and/or recommended my debut. Your support has been phenomenal, and my gratitude is immense and undiminished.
Stepping outside of WU, I have found the SFF self-pub community—avid readers, reviewers, and fellow authors alike—to be warm and inclusive. I’ve met many wonderful folks, and have received no small amount of enthusiastic support. In terms of harnessing support, I can see that the more one invests of themselves, the better they do. For me, online interaction poses a challenge. Too much is definitely not a healthy proposition. Too little, even over short periods, results in swiftly fading from the community’s awareness.
I’ve been seeking my own version of balance. Unfortunately, what feels like balance to me has not led to a level of engagement that makes publication a fiscally sound proposition. To be fair, I didn’t get in this gig to earn a profit. I’m not as motivated as I could be. Still, it’s clear that this would be a very challenging way to make even a reliable portion of a living. I can foresee a day, after all three editions of my trilogy are out, and perhaps with the addition of audiobooks, when I might break even on the outlay.
I understand that the challenges of publication are different for everyone. But seeking to expedite moving from red ink to black would cost me in ways other than financial. For those with the drive and the right sort of energy, there are myriad ways to move the sales needle. There are contests, newsletters, cons, cosplay, blog-offs, special editions, and spiffs—all built around and fueled by social media engagement. I marvel at those who adeptly and consistently engage. Alas, I doubt I will ever be cited as adept or consistent in this arena.
I have found my own means to, and level of, engagement. Good fortune has led me to connection with a kind group of folks who respond to the old guy. On the occasions when he ventures from his cave, that is. I’ve found that the value of authenticity is independent of zealousness.
If I’m going to be honest here, I have to admit that the most impactful realization after one year of being published is this: Nothing magical is going to happen. I have been fully disabused of the notion that the book might somehow magically take off and fly on its own. I will not be “discovered” by anyone who can magically lift the book to greater exposure. I will never be mentioned in any discussions that include my favorite fantasy authors (the ones I’ve had the gall to emulate and secretly compare myself to). No matter how hard I’ve tried to deny having them, even to myself, I’d kept these cherished little fantasies locked away in a writerly safe and buried in the backyard of my psyche.
I guess I’ll summarize by saying that my pub position is much better than this marketing curmudgeon has a right to expect. It’s easier to see that it’s so, now that my writerly safe has been unearthed and cracked, and all of my fantasies have been dashed. From a financial standpoint, I’ll be lucky to eventually call the endeavor a wash. Still, readers have been found and they are glorious. There are two more books (at least) to go. I feel humbly grateful if still somewhat curmudgeonly.
Actual Connection, And Yet…
In the piece I wrote five years ago, I wondered how many readers are enough. I find that’s still a compelling question, particularly when it’s divorced from financial gain. I speculated then about finding connection through publication, and wondered if having moved readers would provide meaning, and thereby the motivation to continue.
I can report that the joy found in connection is real. I have been moved to happy tears on many occasions, and have floated on air for days at a time. I have also had disappointments, of course. I’ve made errors and I’ve occasionally felt stung by critique. I’ve spent more sleepless nights since publishing than I care to admit. I think it’s only human to find that the joy is fleeting. But I’ve also found that the stings fade and the mistakes are forgotten, if only a bit more slowly and stubbornly.
All of it leaves me wondering if it’s worth it. In the last piece I spoke of the value for writers of hewing a path to self-knowledge, and of the world being made a better place by every individual’s pursuit of it.
Lofty notions. If there’s any truth there, why would I bother publishing? If it’s mere loftiness, and sharing my work is the true path to seeking some version of making the world better, shouldn’t I be striving to reach the maximum number of readers? And if I’m seeking to maximize readers, shouldn’t I include elements that my genre’s readers love, like dragons and flashier magic?
Still My True Calling?
Pub position aside, I continue to stumble into the reminder that I am the best version of myself on the days when I’ve made solid progress on something writing-related. Books and story will always be central to my existence. I can’t imagine my life without this, the truest pursuit I have undertaken. I accept that I will continue to tell stories in writing for as long as I am able, regardless of whether or not they are ever read by another human. I know myself well enough to know that I can only write from my heart. Thus far, the stuff that I’ve found in there doesn’t include dragons or flashy magic.
I’m a lucky man. I’ve already had so much opportunity. I’ve attempted and accomplished and seen many things. And writing has taught me more about myself than anything else I have done.
I hope that the journey thus far has made me a better human. I also hope I can continue to grow. Fully grasping these hopes begs the question: Is the best means for seeking growth found in staying focused on writing? Should I spend less of my focus and time writing and more of it seeking other ways to make the world a better place? I still believe that reading makes us better, as individuals and as a society. Would the world be a better place if I focused on promoting literacy, and spreading the love of reading? Or does devoting nearly two decades to this apprenticeship make striving to write the best books possible a responsibility? Can staying on course be a viable part of spreading the love?
Can I really make a dent with any course I take? tap-tap-tap Hello, universe—is this thing on?
Really, A Legacy?
A wise mentor recently advised me to consider my legacy (in regard to my publishing endeavors). I admit I sort of scoffed at the notion. I’ve never longed for notoriety. I don’t delude myself that my books will be read after I’m gone. But then, a short time after the remark, on one of the sleepless nights I mention above, I thought of my dad.
My father passed away thirty years ago this month. He was an incredibly kind man. And a humble one. He left an indelible imprint on many, and a fond impression on far more. Over two hundred people attended his memorial services. As his son, I think of him almost every day. But over the decades I’ve been astonished by how often others bring him up. Thirty years and counting, people remember his kindness. He did not write, left behind nothing in the form of creative content. And yet, his legacy endures. I absolutely believe that his kindness inspired kindness in others, with an effect like the ripples on a pond.
Yes, this journey has taught me about myself. Beyond that, writing this particular story has been a balm to my soul. It’s helped me to come to terms with mortality—my own and that of those whom I love. Ironically, the concept of legacy is a pillar at the core of the series.
I have no children. I won’t have two hundred people at my memorial. I know my books will never be bestsellers or adapted for screen. But maybe, just maybe, if I continue to strive, and to share what I find as best I can, there could be two hundred souls who feel the balm that I found in producing this trilogy. Maybe as many as two hundred could be touched in a way that warrants mentioning me again after I’m gone. Even if there are far fewer, aren’t those souls worthy of my ongoing effort?
If I believe that storytelling can provide hope and understanding to the world, and I’ve been made to see that finding connection through my work is possible, how can I refuse to strive on? If I believe my father left ripples on the pond, shouldn’t I embrace the same aspiration for my storytelling?
Maybe through continuing to strive for my best, and being willing to share; maybe through seeking balance by giving of myself in addition to disappearing into my writing cave; maybe with hope as my fuel, I can earn a legacy as worthy as my father’s. I’m pretty sure he would want me to continue to try. And to believe.
How are you faring, WU? Have you recently asked yourself why you do this? Are you willing to entertain the notion of legacy? Shall we claim a pub position and discuss this over pints?
Vaughn Roycroft’s (he/him) teacher gave him a copy of The Hobbit in the 6th grade, sparking a lifelong passion for reading and history. After college, life intervened, and Vaughn spent twenty years building a successful business. During those years, he and his wife built a getaway cottage near their favorite shoreline, in a fashion that would make the elves of Rivendell proud. After many milestone achievements, and with the mantra ‘life’s too short,’ they left their hectic lives in the business world, moved to their little cottage, and Vaughn finally returned to writing. Now he spends his days striving to finish his epic fantasy series.
Vaughn, thank you for such an open, kind and generous article. You are your father’s son!
That is the finest compliment you could give! Thank you, Sheree.
As far as your legacy goes, Vaughn, I think you will be remembered more often and by many more souls that you might think. While I try to read this blog more than any others I subscribe to, I absolutely never miss one of your posts. You keep it real here…the joys, the struggles, the hopes, the uncertainties. And for this struggling writer, I am filled with gratitude for the honesty with which you inspire.
Aw shucks, Christine–you’ve gone and filled my heart right up. Thank you so much! Onward, my friend.
Thoughtful musings as always. If you want help with your social media, I can help. That way you have the interaction without having to do the interaction yourself! It could work! ❤️
Wow, thanks, Lara–that’s a terrific invitation. We must discuss!
Thanks a million for your friendship. You make the journey more meaningful.
A beautiful post, Vaughn. Thank you for sharing your story with such honesty and vulnerability. These lines really resonated: “I am the best version of myself on the days when I’ve made solid progress on something writing-related. Books and story will always be central to my existence. I can’t imagine my life without this, the truest pursuit I have undertaken.” Please keep writing fiction and blog posts–for yourself, for your readers, for struggling writers, for your legacy, for all of us!
Thanks, Christine! I’m so glad it resonated, and maybe provided a bit of the fuel of hope. Here’s to the climb, side-by-side!
Authenticity shines through every word here, Vaughn. A beautiful post. Thank you for your writing.
No one has provided a more inspirational invitation to authenticity than you, Barbara. Can’t thank you enough. I’ve said it before, but you’re a shining beacon for this community. Which maybe seems more appropriate than ever, there in your new location.
Oh Vaughn, I loved this on so many levels. In fact, this post has left me speechless. And still I write.
I’m so glad it resonated, Mary. Thanks for letting me know, and for writing on!
This jumped out at me:”Nothing magic is going to happen.”
Here’s the thing: nothing magic happens for any novelist. Creating fiction isn’t magic, It’s work. Craft. Hours. Years. Twenty? Guess what, twenty years from now it will still be work, craft, hours.
Three books is only the start of a career. I know many novelists and most cringe at their early work, and the others maybe should. Will you still be churning your doubts in lovely WU posts after your twelfth novel, or twentieth? Of course not.
But you will be doing the work, just like you are now. Write on, brother. This is just the beginning.
Hey Benjamin — I agree, and find great solace in the work, and humbly accept the frustrations that come with it. I also agree that these first three books are just the beginning; the next three are well in the works. Who knows? After today, I’m mostly convinced that I’ll share them.
Thanks for always keeping it real. Hope you and yours are well.
“The next three are well in the works.” Now that’s excellent news on a gloomy day here in the PNW! Hearing that makes me so happy.
Hello Vaughn. Thanks for your heartfelt meditation on your life in the writing trenches. I’ve said it before to you, and say it again: as a fellow writer, I can’t imagine what it takes to envision and then develop a project as ambitious as the one you took on ten years ago. To do that and complete it is, I hope, a source of deep satisfaction to you. As for the commercial end of things for self-publishers (even for commercially published writers), as far as I can tell that is driven largely by a process of relentless self-promotion, conducted through social media. When writers are urged to get the platform/marketing ball rolling even before they start a novel, that says it all. As you say, “moving from red ink to black” for an indie writer demands mastery of a set of skills unrelated to the craft of writing fiction. Except, that is, for fashioning what could be called a “myth of self” that appeals to online fans. The only alternative is to win the lottery, hire the best publicist you can, and buy ads like there’s no tomorrow. Unfortunately, the lottery never wants to cooperate.
I was moved by what you said about your father’s legacy, how decades after his funeral, memories of his kindness linger for those who knew him. Ultimately, that’s probably the only true legacy any of us can hope to aspire to. Thanks again for your post.
Hey Barry — I had to laugh about the lottery not cooperating. You’ve got that problem too, eh? My wife has so much planned, even these mega millions and billions might not cover us. You’d have been happy to know my dad, Barry. A Michigander born and bred–salt of the earth.
Here’s to finding the right legacy to aspire to. Thanks for your ongoing support!
I felt this on so many levels, Vaughn. It’s a real struggle, and since leaving my law practice 2 years ago to write full time, I’ve constantly worried (especially in the slow summer months when you’d think sales would go up but instead slag) if this is the time to say it’s not worth it. And yet…here I am. And here you are. See you in November (I assume)!
Thanks, Anne! Yes, the unpredictability is such a challenge. I don’t envy those who rely on the income, but I do admire them. Of course, see you in Salem! Thanks for weighing in and for always generously sharing your experience.
This is such a gorgeous post; something magical may happen yet … you just never know!
Good point. I have to remember that there’s magic in the belief alone. Thank you, Lily!
Honor your father, Vaughn. You don’t need to hover over your sales figures any more than you would pester the recipient of a birthday gift by constantly checking for vital signs and probing for details: “Did you like it? Did you really like it? How often do you use it? You haven’t stored it in the garage, have you?” No, you gave the gift. Gave it, and it is out of your hands entirely. Staying away from your sales figures is not only liberating but protective. Out there in the world, your book (along with its successors) is affecting people. Will go on to affect people. Some will write to tell you and thank you; others will not. You are protected from, and by, not knowing about the readers who remain silent but sense an internal difference after reading the last page. The invisibility of that effect defines and maintains your freedom to write what you are given to write. Your father would be proud.
Hey Anna — I’m not surprised that you’ve brought such an excellent lens to this, enhancing my perspective. You’ve consistently done just that, for years now. Your support makes me better, and it’s much appreciated. Your last line fills my heart right up. Thanks a million for the fuel!
This post is so authentic and lovely and relatable, Vaughn. Questions I think every creative has to struggle with if they want to create a fulfilling and sustaining writing career, whatever that may look like for them, and in fact that I am wrangling now for a conversation on this very topic we’ll be having at the conference.
Your likening your writing career to your father’s legacy moved me. There’s a saying for those of us who grew up in the South that you should leave a place a little better than you found it. That’s been a guiding tenet for me and how I live my life and conduct my career, and you’ve so beautifully exemplified that mindset in this post. And as a fellow non-haver of children, I was also moved by your perspective on the legacy of kindness your dad left far beyond his own family. I actually do often think about whether or how my life will have made a ripple when I’m gone, and if I can count 200 people–or 20…or 2–among those for whom I helped leave the world a little better than I found it, I will count that a wild success.
Thanks for this.
Hey Tiffany — I love the concept of leaving things just a little better than you found them. One of the things I do on every beach walk I take is to try to pick up three pieces of plastic and dispose of them. I also clear all of the paths to the beach of sticks as I walk down. Some days I wonder if I’m the only one doing these things. We need more southerners on the Lake Michigan shore, apparently, lol.
I also love your definition of success. You always lift my spirits and fire my hope engines. Thanks for being such a valuable source of fuel, my friend.
Vaughn,
Such a lovely post, mining genuineness. I was pleased to read how you definitively answered your own query about “why?”. Because you must write. Because you are learning about life, about writing, and about a life of writing. I know you are the kind to do the best you can. No hype, no BS, no cutting corners for the market. This all indicates a state worth celebrating.
Bravo.
Hey Tom! Long time no see. Hope all is well with you, and that you are continuing to make those ripples. You’re an inspiration, my friend, thanks. Here’s to celebrating the current state, and to future ripples. Cheers!
Fwiw, it was an exciting surprise when I saw the post here announcing the release of The Severing Son. I stumbled on one of your articles here years ago (I can’t remember which one) and I’ve been subscribed since. I also, however, visited your site and when I read about what you were writing I was dying to read it. It sounded right up my alley. To say I was disappointed that it wasn’t released yet is an understatement, but it stuck in the back of my mind for years, until voila! There it was! Sounds weird, but it really made my day.
I honestly wish more authors would do what you did and self-publish. There are a lot of books out there that I’m dying to read. The fact that the book is complete and the author has promoted the heck out of it is great! But then it sits there, unreleased, with a lot of promotional promises (“release date coming soon!” and stuff) NEVER panning out because it turns out the author is still holding out for a traditional publisher.
I don’t blame them at all, and everyone should do what they feel is right for them; there are pros and cons to BOTH models and self-publishing is definitely rough. However, as a potential reader I feel an intense (and, I know, selfish) frustration, considering most of these projects have sat there for years with no apparent sign of moving.
So, yeah. You made at least one person VERY happy with choosing to release it to the world and I bought it the first chance I had.
I’ll be diving head-first into it soon and just want to say thank you for letting me.
Wow, back at you! You’ve definitely made at least one person very happy, as well. I can’t thank you enough for this wise comment, and for giving TSS a try. Fingers crossed for the read. Thanks a million for the lift!
In one of his interviews with Bill Moyers, the late Joseph Campbell said something like this: “Never underestimate the value to the Universe of the fully realized life.” And I think that drive underlies much of what you wrote today.
You also mused about whether you should “do more” in the larger world, related to literacy perhaps. And maybe so — maybe we all should, especially during Banned Books week, which this is. But I think you are doing just that with your posts at WU, sharing in a community of generosity.
Gosh, Leslie — what a generous comment. Yes, I love that Moyers/Campbell interview. I think it’s time I rewatched it. You’ve really made my day with your final sentiment here. Much appreciated!
Vaughn, you said: 1) Story will always be central to your existence. 2) You can’t imagine your life without writing, and 3) it is the truest pursuit you have undertaken. Three perfect reasons to answer yes to continuing to publish. And a bonus fourth: Storytelling provides hope and understanding to the world. Inspiration to us all.
Thank you, Veronica! You’ve always been such a kind supporter, and it’s much appreciated. Here’s to inspiration!
Your clear-eyed account is an important one for readers considering self-publishing to hear. Because in-between the indie authors who are printing money writing multiple books a year and the dabblers who just want a book in their hands, there are A LOT of other experiences — from losing money to breaking even to modest success.
Thanks, Kelly — I think it’s important to keep it honest. I hope it helps folks come to self-pub with proper expectations.
Vaughn, thank you for another thoughtful post. Your observations about the publishing process are spot on. My experience with self-publishing (independent publishing?) was similar to yours. I’ve been seeking traditional publishing for my second novel, without much success. As for legacy, I’ve always believed a life well led and one that sets a good example is the best legacy we can leave for our loved ones. I admire your perseverance (and patience) in your writing and publishing journey. I hope the audience you have gained with your first book will be a springboard to more popularity for the next novels in your trilogy. I hope you are well and I look forward to seeing you again in Salem.
Hey Chris — You’ve always been a steadying influence and an inspiration, my friend. Looking forward to seeing you again, too. Here’s to patience!
HI Vaughn, I am late in responding, because I was at at Writing Conference for the last five days and frankly, needed to sleep. From our past friendship, I know how dedicated you are to your work. That is the bottom line for a writer. Today, this open and questioning piece speaks again to your fervor and dedication. Please keep writing. We have talked about the ups and downs of the “forever” work. It lives with us and cannot be denied. And the responses you are receiving today should once again underline that we all believe in you. I hope to go hybrid soon. It’s just basic to me, that my novel MUST SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY. Take care, Beth
Hi Beth — Glad you got to go to a conference, and I hope you’re feeling energized (after a little catch-up sleep). Wishing you the very best. Thanks much for weighing in, and for the encouragement.
I can’t add much more than what’s been said here already, but I can’t help but add this:
Believe, believe, as we all believe in you. You’ve got this, V.
Thank you, T! You always manage to hit me with the right prompts. You make me want to be better, for which I’m eternally grateful.
V, I relate to this post on every level. What’s more, I relate to it as a spouse, watching the ToolMaster retire from a beloved job after 35 years and wrestling with the meaning of life and labor and what it means to embody your values in a work legacy that will soon be forgotten. Having put out three novels to date, all I can say is that with each one, I developed more questions like those you pose, and fewer answers. Honestly, at this point, I’m not sure I have any answers at all! Yet somehow I feel at peace with it. And I write, and that feels right.
It’ll be fascinating to see how you’re feeling in a few years. Thanks for sharing your thought processes along the way. As you can see, it’s cathartic and helpful to a lot of your tribe.
Hey Jan! Oh gosh, I’m wishing the ToolMaster the very best. Both of you please remember to be kind to yourselves. Remember that your ripples are already out there, rolling across the global pond. Not sure how I’ll feel after the trilogy, but I appreciate the light you’ve been shining as you lead the way. Thank you!
Vaughn, I’m angry with you: as a potent curmudgeon myself, that you soaked my crust with a wave of emotion in talking about your father’s legacy was unconscionable. But thank you.
As one of your two hundred who found Severing Son powerful, lovely and enthralling, you have a legacy in these parts. My own books go nowhere, but as you’ve expressed, the writing, ever the writing, takes us places we need to go.
Looking forward to book two; I will happily model to be a dragon for the cover.
Hey Tom — Sorry to spring the sentimentality on you like that. In my defense, it sort of ambushed me, too.
Your support has meant the world to me. Know that we have a mutual book admiration club, and we don’t really need any other members. Unless they bring snacks to the meetings. Then they’re welcome. Thanks a million.
Thank you, Vaughn, I always enjoy your posts and what you have to say. I’ve certainly asked myself some of those questions, and for now at least, I’m pretty happy with the answers.
I write because I can’t think of anything better to do. Like most writers, I’m a reader. What I’ve gotten from books–the experiences, the thoughts and ideas, the information, other perspectives, a brush up against some of the greatest thinkers in human history– has a value that is irreplaceable. And it can’t be taken away from me. It’s made me want to share whatever I’ve got to give. I did it! I wrote a book. Several, in fact. None may ever be published, but hey, you never know… What I learned and what I got out of the experience of writing them made it worth doing.
I’d welcome recognition and financial reward, but if I never get either, I’ll still have the satisfaction of getting what I wanted to on paper (and in pixels). And the company and fellowship of like-minded people, Other writers.
Hemingway reportedly said words to the effect that writing is easy; you just sit down at a typewriter and bleed from the forehead. For me, it’s been more like receiving a transfusion.
Hi Bob — You bring up several excellent points. We have to remember that we’re joining a select fellowship, if only in spirit, by finishing our projects, and by honoring those we admire on the page in doing so. I love the idea of the transfusion. What a lovely addition to the conversation. Thanks much! Here’s to continuing the journey.
I hear you brother. To paraphrase Simone de Beauvoir, he who speaks to us from the depths of his uncertainty speaks to us of ourselves. Whenever I’m looking in the mirror the way you’re doing here, and wondering WTF am I doing, I return to this poem:
To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Nothing
William Butler Yeats
Now all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honour bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbours’ eyes?
Bred to a harder thing
Than Triumph, turn away
And like a laughing string
Whereon mad fingers play
Amid a place of stone,
Be secret and exult,
Because of all things known
That is most difficult.
Ah, the perfect note, as only Yeats can strike it. Thanks a million, David. Wishing you the best! Here’s to stepping beyond the uncertainty and carrying on.
Vaughn, your father would be so proud of you. We all struggle with these questions and I am so glad that we live in an age where we can make a beautiful book to share with others. I wish more people would. Even if one life is enriched, isn’t it of infinite value? I recently finished another WU community member’s books (Alicia’s of Pride’s Children) and they’re brilliant! So grateful that she took the time and the trouble to write these books, painstakingly, given her health issues. I admire all who’ve stuck with it no matter what the cost. Thank you for writing, for inspiring, and may you have the time and space and courage to write all the stories of your heart.
Hi Vijaya — That’s so cool to hear about Alicia’s books. I’ll have to follow your example–she’s such a kind community member. Thanks so much for your support, today and over the years!
Vaughn, you did it, you put your story into the world. Compared to a drawer, what could be better? You invested in your vision, then made it real and just look at the pack of us celebrating your win.
Money, likes, whatever. Compared to following your dream. that stuff is ephemera.
You’re so right, Cordia–it would’ve been a shame to have this story languishing on a hard-drive. You’re also right about what’s really important. These lessons get clearer as the years pass. Thanks for the great reminders, and for your longstanding support.
In for a penny, in for a pound, till the last breath we draw.
Can I hear a ROARRRR!
Wonderful post. Like others, I always enjoy your candid musings.
I think you’ve already secured your legacy in the sheer number of comments just in response to this post! I’m sure there is much more to come. So much of what you wrote resonated with me and my thoughts ran parallel tracks. I thought of both my parents’ funerals, my Dad’s 28 years ago, and my Mum, who passed a scant couple of months before COVID made its entrance. In each case, there were close to 200 people who made the effort to come to celebrate their life and mourn their passing. Dad was a noted businessman, and also a kind, generous man who was referred to by many in the business world as “a true gentleman”, the mayor of the town even went so far as to call him “a visionary”; my mother, on the other hand, was a housewife all her life, often described as a “character”, who could make anyone laugh, and she was just as loved by a vast number as if she had made some noted contribution in a professional capacity. They proved to me that my legacy doesn’t have to be for setting the world on fire with bestselling prose (although that would be nice).
The other comment that struck me was “I am the best version of myself on the days when I’ve made solid progress on something writing-related”. And so am I. You remind me that this is all that really matters to our daily mental health. We do have the lovely compliments, the good reviews and the modest income, and hopefully some recognition along the way, but what a gift to be able to derive such enjoyment from our writing.
Hey Deborah, It’s can feel like a lot to live up to, having parents like ours. But we owe them so much, too. We are who we are because of them. Because of them we are asking the right questions, and seeking the light as we strive on. It’s a gift.
Thanks for the gift of this lovely addition to what’s been a heartening conversation with my writerly community. And for your support over the years. Much appreciated!
When you write here on WU, Vaughn, you always write from the heart. What a treasure! What jumps out at me in this post is the joy in connecting with readers. Yes, commercial success would be great, but so much better is the reader who says your book changed them. That’s what keeps me going. I’ve heard it pretty often from readers of my memoir, which was never a bestseller . A few such readers are enough for me. Courage! Carry on.
You’re so right, Barbara–the number of readers matters not at all. It’s the connection with each one that should be noted. Thanks for the dose of courage. You’re the best! Onward.
But isn’t this the magic thing that has already happened: “I am the best version of myself on the days when I’ve made solid progress on something writing-related.”? I feel so lucky to be able to support my fiction habit with writing that actually pays the bills, mostly. Thanks for the excuse/chance/opportunity to reconsider the why of all this… before I disappear back into my cave until November. :)
Hey Carol — Thanks for showing the rest of us how it’s done. You’re an inspiration. Wishing you the best in the cave. I appreciate the addition to the conversation.
As ever, what a beautiful, introspective, generous post, Vaughn.
>>> “If it’s mere loftiness, and sharing my work is the true path to seeking some version of making the world better, shouldn’t I be striving to reach the maximum number of readers?”
Ah yes, the age-old debate of quality vs quantity. Personally I don’t think there’s a right or wrong answer. Both/either can be equally worthwhile.
One thing that the past few years has given me is a more conscious, deeper appreciation for the value of some of the private writing I do. Not the stuff that’s just for me — though I think there’s value there too — but the stuff that is for family and friends. Certain emails, letters, cards, etc. Knowing that my words can have meaningful impact on people who I love dearly… is worth more than I realized.
>>> “I am the best version of myself on the days when I’ve made solid progress on something writing-related.”
Oof. Same. A much-needed reminder. Thank you.
>>> “He did not write, left behind nothing in the form of creative content. And yet, his legacy endures.”
❤️ I have no doubt that yours will as well.
Hi Kristan! You make such a valid and important point about private writing. The value and meaning are worthy of our attention. So glad that there are useful reminders and that this resonates for you. As usual, you’ve provided wisdom PLUS very kind and heartening praise. Can’t thank you enough, my friend! Always great to hear from you. :)
I’ve lived long enough to realise you are remembered by how you make people feel. Kindness is the key. Also we Indie authors must get used to writing just for a hobby, because unless we are celebrities, agents are not interested because non-celebrities do not sell enough books. Profit is what agents are looking for. All in all, we must expect nothing and then we will not be disappointed.