Some Thoughts on My Book’s Anniversary

My first book came out four years ago today. Here are some thoughts:

1. Having a book has not transformed my life. No agents have approached me. I have been unable to secure a tenure-track teaching position, despite having a book—something that, six or eight years ago, I considered the one roadblock on that path. I’ve had a few interviews, but the truth is that 150 applicants for each position have one book; another 75-100 have two books; probably 30-50 have three or more books. For assistant professor/entry-level positions! Having a book, it turns out, is nothing special. No big whoop.

2. I haven’t written much prose fiction since my book came out. Peers who published a book around the time of my book have published a second book now, or a third, or maybe they have two titles contracted. This makes me feel like a slacker—like a big fucking loser, actually. I’m also not a write-every-day-but-publish-once-a-decade writer, either. I’m not Junot D. or Donna T., let me tell you.

3. #1 and #2 are related. I didn’t feel like writing much prose fiction in 2011. Or for the next year or two, really. What’s the point? But also, by the time my book came out, I’d kind of forgotten how to write. I spent so much time revising Naked Summer that I essentially became an editor, not a composer.

4. In 2012, Victoria Barrett let me join Engine Books to work as an editor, which has taken a lot of my time and creative energy, but I’m very proud of the books I’ve helped guide into the world. There’s no denying, however, that I’ve worked to shape other people’s stories and words, not my own.

5. When I have written prose, it’s mostly been nonfiction. I didn’t see that coming.

6. I did co-write a graphic novel script, and I have developed (or am developing) some other comics-related projects. This was my first writing-related interest, anyway. Comics are the reason I’m a writer. I feel like the river’s returned to its original source or something. Right now, writing comics—or trying to—is a lot more fun than writing prose. That doesn’t mean I’m not still poking at a few stories or novels-in-progress. (Yes, plural. I have novels in progress.) 

7. The ideas have never stopped coming. I would need two or three adult lives to get to them all. So I’ll have to choose the projects I most want to write, not the ones I think will interest an editor or hiring committee or—this is the hardest one—make my wife happiest. 

8. For two or three years, I said I would never again write an unlinked story collection. But you know what? Maybe I will. Some of the best agents and editors in the country said they liked my writing, but they wanted me to have a novel instead—and I let that worm inside my head. Eventually I found a publisher that was interested in my story collection, one that had published about four or five other writers I admired. But honestly, I wish I hadn’t published my book when I did. Not because it’s not good enough. I’m not embarrassed by it. In fact, I think it’s better than a lot of debut story collections from Big 5 publishers that have appeared since then. But you only get one chance to make a big impression. That it’s a story collection might help—maybe some future agent can sell one of my novels, and the publishing house won’t even care that I published a story collection, one that will likely be out of print by then, anyway. In that sense, maybe I will get a second chance to make a first impression. 

9. I worked my ass off to promote my book. The publisher wanted to try an Amazon assault—to get as many people as possible to buy my book on June 1, 2011, its official publication day (never mind that it was actually available for two weeks before that). In short, I worked it like Mary J. Blige. A lot of people bought my book on June 1, which drove Naked Summer up the Amazon sales charts. I think it cracked Amazon’s Top 500, and was #2 on the Short Stories list—one notch above Ann Packer’s book, a writer I admire and now know a little, and two notches above a book by Stephen King. Stephen King! Pretty cool, right? An author my parents could name. But my publisher only designated 15 copies for review, and only if a would-be reviewer inquired. There were no ARCs produced. There was no follow-up plan. Basically, I got everyone I know—which is a lot of people, it turns out—to buy a copy of Naked Summer, and then…that was pretty much it. Within the week, my book began to fall off those Amazon sales charts. 

10. I was seriously depressed the year my book came out. I was an asshole to everyone, including my wonderful wife—or especially her, since she was here. I discovered streaming Netflix and watched whole seasons of shows I’d never before cared about by propping the iPad on my chest and laying in bed for hours every day. Finally my wife told me to knock it the fuck off. She’s good like that. I started therapy, which sort of helped, though my therapist was kind of a flake. I started taking bupropion, which helped a lot—and still does. 

11. Around the time my book was published, Engine Books was really taking off, so I got to see how Victoria worked with her authors. I was so jealous, to be honest. I realized that’s what I wanted—to have an editor who believed in me work hard on my book, to challenge me, to make the book better on every level. A lot of writers don’t like to talk about their own behind-the-scenes experiences with publishing, at least not in public. (But over drinks? Hell yes, they do.) But my publisher asked me to change two things: 1) He wanted the book to be called Naked Summer, which is what I had called the manuscript for several years before making an impulsive change right before submitting it to him (easy change); and 2) he wanted me to revise the last line of the last story—the title story—because he thought it was a downer. Because that was the only thing we ever discussed regarding my manuscript, I made the change. We didn’t edit the manuscript together. I didn’t accept or reject changes. That was not part of the process. No one at the press proofread the manuscript. Thankfully, I’m married to one of the best editors around, and she gave my manuscript a good ass-kicking after it was accepted, but before it was published.

12. I typeset my own book. The publisher was busy with a poetry festival and it didn’t look like we’d make our deadline. Because I knew how to typeset, I offered. For this service, I was paid with another 30 author copies. Of course, I wanted to make revisions during the typesetting process, which I do not recommend.

13. There’s a lot more I can say about this process, but you’ll have to buy me a drink or two. However, I do want to say that while I was not in a hurry to publish, I still think I published too soon. I’m now almost 39 years old. We have a son now, and a small press to run. My dad died. I still teach more classes each year than my contract stipulates. I don’t know that I’ll suddenly be able to start writing more than I have over the last four years, but I feel, in some ways, like I have more reasons to write than ever before. 

Fiction? Nonfiction? Comics? Other stuff? 

Yes. Yes. Yes.