Blues at the Finishing Line

And Some More Different Sauce

This isn’t my first rodeo. Or even my second or third—or sixth. I should have expected it, and yet it shook me: the letdown that comes after publishing a book. This is a low point that can come at the conclusion of any major project.

The book publication finishing line blues.

DUST was released a little over a month ago. The time has sped by, in part because my publication day came close to the holidays and its flurry of travel, gift-giving, family, dinners, obligations, weather, and pre-break job stress. I did book events before everything slowed down. I stayed in inns and hotels. I signed a lot of books. Met some readers, made some new friends, got to see a bunch of old ones. DUST has received a positive response in its short time in the world: messages from readers, some best of lists, good ratings on the dreaded Goodreads.

So why do I feel bad?

There is a helplessness that comes with the release of any project, maybe especially creative ones, but definitely these days when artists are expected to be social media experts and marketing whizzes as well as creators.

And don’t get me wrong: I’m personally interested in and truly enjoy marketing. I think it’s creative and a way to express different sides of my personality. I actually like making Reels.

Whatever happens with your project, it won’t feel like enough. And whatever you do to support it is enough, though it won’t feel like it.

But I don’t have a budget for Reels. Or Canva Pro. I don’t have Photoshop. Or a backdrop. And I don’t have much free time: hours devoted solely to increasing my following. There is a limit to what I can do. There’s a limit to what any of us can do. Bestselling booklists? Are curated. It’s not math, it’s a subjective decision made by someone. The only people who have the power to make a hit are the ones in charge of hit-making.

I’m not in charge of that. Letting go of the belief that it’s all (or even more than a little) in one’s hands is hard, especially if like me, you were raised on that lie of a Midwestern work ethic: if we only work enough we will succeed. But on many levels, success was determined before we were born, and the success of our projects was decided before we finished them.

There is also a particular sadness in letting go of anything you worked on for a long time, a feeling of… that’s it? All this buildup, anticipation, revisions upon revisions, teamwork, more work, and waiting for … that?

Whatever happens with your project, I’m telling you right now it won’t feel like enough. And whatever you do to support it is enough, though it won’t feel like it.

That whole Taylor Swift has the same amount of hours in a day as you do idea doesn’t quite work. Because she also has help. If we had chefs and drivers and trainers and shoppers and childcare, and people to take care of everything except making art and showing up for it, maybe you and I too could run a chart-topping empire.

Until that day, I’ve got to be in charge of what I can be in charge of, which is simply making. Making the best I can. And then making more.

Photo by Josh Gordon on Unsplash

The best cure for the finishing line blues is another project. It is for me, anyway. You’ll hear people preaching rest and time off, and that is important, of course. There are seasons for everything, including nothing at all.

But too much time away from storytelling and I start to feel lost. That’s not the way my brain works. For me, especially now in the hellhole that is life in America, I need to disappear, if only for the hour between when my kid gets on the bus and my day job begins. I need a story. I need to invent a cool world and a quick way out of this one, and to spend at least a little time each day there.

Maybe this next one will be a hit. Maybe it won’t. It’s not up to me. What is up to me is to make a new world and make it real, again and again. All I can do is keep going. See you out there.

A Spell for Some More Different Sauce

Something else largely out of our control? Whether or not the plastic we carefully save, wash, and set out for recycling is actually recycled.

So here’s a spell to make plastic (and glass) last: don’t recycle those sticky containers of peanut butter or mustard just yet. Don’t wash them out.

Instead, add olive oil, salt and pepper, vinegar, and lemon juice to a mostly empty mustard jar. Shake and you’ve got yourself some salad dressing. Add a little vegetable oil, honey, ginger, and soy sauce to a mostly empty peanut butter jar. Shake and you’ve got some more different sauce. Hang on and hang in.