I was driven.
Once I had the goal of being a traditionally published author in my sights, I attacked it. Studied the craft. Wrote my first book. Got signed by a literary agent. Fought through a myriad of rejections. Wrote my second book and endured even more denials. Wrote my third book, yet still struck out.
Then my break through. The fourth book I wrote earned me a four-book deal with Penguin Random House, the biggest trade publisher in the US. But I quickly learned that wasn’t the finish line—if I wanted a successful career, it was just a new starting line.
So I dug in again. Made connections with literary gatekeepers like librarians, teachers, booksellers, and parents. Promoted myself and my debut series. Appeared on podcasts. Gave interviews. Taught classes. Worked social media. Booked my own school visits and bookstore appearances. Said yes to any promotional opportunity, all for free.
For awhile, it worked. My efforts led to a deal for a fifth book. Three national book tours. Book signing events attended by hundreds of people. Being on stage with literary icons at book festivals. Becoming a USA Today bestselling author.
Then my publisher didn’t extend my Monsterious series. While that stung, I got to work on creating a new series pitch. They rejected it. I went back to the drawing board. They turned down the next idea too. I came off my most recent tour last October exhausted, dejected, and questioning my future as an author.
I finally gave myself a much needed break. I took several months off, writing little and doing virtually no promotion. The rest and reflection cleared my work-fogged mind and helped me find a healthier perspective—I did the things. I lived my literary dreams. Do I want them to continue? Of course.
But not at any price.
I realized the mysterious agony in my abdomen months earlier that had stumped doctors and landed me in the hospital was probably stress induced. I remembered that I don’t have to do everything or say yes to every opportunity. In the publishing industry, there’s an external and internal pressure to give everything to your literary success. To keep pushing, keep striving. It feels like if you’re ever without your next book deal, you’re failing. Getting left behind. Becoming a has-been.
But that’s not reality. There is another path. A version of my life where I stop letting someone else define success. Where I choose what winning looks like for me.
There are things I love beside writing that bring me deep fulfillment, like my nomadic life, traveling the world with my wife Lisa, and spending extended time with friends and family. Do I still enjoy writing? Definitely. Will I continue to pursue it as a career? Without a doubt. My agent is shopping my new children’s fantasy adventure manuscript to editors now, and I’m currently writing an adult thriller novel (and having a blast).
Will those books get deals? I have no idea. If they do, I’ll be ecstatic, but if they don’t, that’s okay too. I’m not going back to that stress-filled frenzy where I’m striving to meet other people’s expectations. There’s great power and comfort in deciding what winning looks like for me.
What dreams are you chasing? What goals are you pursuing? Whatever they are, make sure they’re your true passions. Don’t let other people define your success. Reclaim your power. Choose your own win. If you do, you’ll have a more peaceful journey toward your preferred life, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
