Coming to Terms With Reality – The Universe Doesn’t Care About Your Book As Much as You Do and That’s Okay

It takes courage to put a book in the world, but even more bravery to promote it, and then when you schedule an event and just a few people show up, it takes some real daring-do to stand up and talk about your book with vigor.

Why? Because you want the world to love your book and it can be embarrassing to throw a party that few people attend.

Fear not. Those empty room book signings have happened to the best. John Grisham had a trunk full of books left over after his first novel’s book tour. Thankfully, he laughed about it and kept writing. Now, his events are standing room only.

Promoting and selling books is difficult. There will be good days and bad days, but probably more bad days than good, and it may takes years and years to make a decent profit, if that is the goal. Bottom line: We authors need a reality check so we can enjoy the ride.

We authors must come to terms with the fact that the world is filled with millions and millions of damn good books.

Just walk into any library or book store and look around. What do you see?

As a reader, you see a delicious world of discovery, a lovely–sometimes never-ending–display of exciting books. As an author, you see that too, but also, you see shelves and shelves and shelves of stiff competition by accomplished writers. It can feel a bit overwhelming.

An author named Johnny Truant has carved out a small corner of the Indie publishing world, but what he’s infamous for is his fourteen page manifesto entitled “The Universe Doesn’t Give a Flying F*** About You.” This unsolicited piece of advice by Johnny Truant is available for free on Amazon Kindle here.

You can probably guess Johnny’s sermon by the title alone. It’s not advice for authors per se, but the advice is perfect for authors too.

Here’s the truth. The universe Johnny talks about–the same one we authors reside in–is full of books much more fabulous than our own and as one of my childhood friends once said, “that’s a fact, Jack.” But why Jack, does this fact matter?

For one, this fact puts everything in perspective.

Once we authors realize that our books are a miniscule affair in the overall affairs of the book universe, it makes walking into a library or book store and seeing all the books on the shelves–the ones the librarians and book sellers felt should be there long before yours–easier to experience, and frankly, more enjoyable. And it makes the book signing you planned–the one where fifty people said they were coming but fewer than five showed up–more explainable.

Meaning what, exactly?

Meaning there are too many cool things going on in the universe for the universe to care about your book.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re not a slacker. You’re thinking that this universal fact of indifference applies only to slackers, the authors who write first drafts and put them up on the internet and expect to become famous.

Not true. This universal fact of indifference also applies to authors who follow the universe’s rules for good writing, and because they follow them, the indifference is harder to handle when it becomes apparent.

Good authors work hard. They hire and pay for editorial assistance. They hone and re-hone (if that’s a word) their work. They read, they study, they plan and they plan some more. They buy swag to promote their books. They take courses on how to sell their books. They build relationships. They write newsletters and blogs and start podcasts and YouTube channels. They email everyone they know and advertise to those they don’t know, and when their book launches, they think the universe should care. Johnny is right. It doesn’t.

I woke up one night during the launch of my latest novel “Deadly Declarations” and couldn’t go back to sleep. I worried about whether my events would be successful. What if nobody showed up?, I mused. What if nobody bought or liked my book?

I remembered Johnny’s piece on the universe, looked it up online, and read it that night. It was the medicine I needed to go back to sleep because it reminded me that I am a very small cog in the wheel of life, and that the universe truly doesn’t care if I succeed or not. This fact should be depressing, but it’s not. Instead, it’s logical. Perhaps even calming.

Universal indifference cannot destroy my love of writing. I like to create stories. I like to escape with my characters. I enjoy the challenge of piecing together a novel like “Deadly Declarations.”

So why should I or any author want the universe to care about our books?

Because we’re human.

We want the world to fall in love with what we’ve written as much as we think we love it.

But we have to face the facts.

Our books are not as fabulous as we think (or hope) they are–even though we sometimes vaingloriously believe they are written for “all readers.” Instead, our books are a small sliver of words in a universe of trillions and trillions of published words.

But here’s the thing. It doesn’t matter whether the universe cares about our books. What matters is that we authors care about them and that we have fun promoting and selling them, because if we don’t show up every day with energy and enthusiasm to pitch our books, why should readers get excited?

And by the way, none of this is to say that people won’t like or buy our books, or that stores won’t sell them, or that people won’t show up for our events. People will do those things and we authors will sell some books.

Why?

Because, as Johnny says, the universe is a big place. We just have to find the slice that works for us.

And if for some reason, not enough readers care about your book to suit you, then write the next one.