The Great Abysss: Post-Publication Depression

OK, I've finished it, gotten my novel out there into a few Barnes & Noble stores and on Amazon; I've sent out sample copies to a few friends and prominent New Orleans folks; I've sent copies to newspapers in four southern states; I've started to set up a European book tour and sent out a press release.

But nothing.

It's silent.

Books aren't selling.

No one has noticed; no one has said, "This is a great book. A must read. A New Orleans classic."

Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zed.

I flip through the pages wondering, really, was the seven years and thousands of hours and thousands of dollars really worth it? Did I write something of note? Or, at the very least, a 'good' book?

I don't know. I can't judge. But maybe someone, SOMEWHERE will pick it up and rave about it.

I suppose I need to be patient. Some books take 20 years to arise from the heap of pulp.

It's moronic to worry about, since it really doesn't matter. What matters is that an artist does the best work possible at that point in their life.

And I do know that I have done that.

Success, One Step at a Time

This morning I awoke early to call London. Finally I got through to the right person at Waterstones, and he is taking steps to introduce my novel to the UK market, and to set up some promotional events. I also called Prague, (or Praha as the rest of the world calls it), and tentatively set up a signing event to kick off my European tour -- after nearly a dozen previous attempts. So now I have Prague, Berlin, and quite probably London. How about Paris or Madrid?

Then I took my morning walk on the beach and I felt I am making progress, one step at a time, and soon others will see my footsteps, before they are washed away by the tide of time.