It’s been a minute (i.e. half a year to almost the day) since I published SOLACE: POEMS FOR THE BROKEN SEASON.
In reflection on that event, and now that the act of publishing is sufficiently in the rearview mirror, I thought it would be a helpful exercise for me – and hopefully for you in some way – to think through how everything shook down in that process with the intent of learning something from it.
So let’s start with some quick notes on the practical side of things.
Editing and Selection: I had the benefit of having four poet friends do a read-through of the book and give me their thoughts and edits, as well as a variety of outside listeners and readers along the way. These wonderful people helped me shape not only the poetry but also the overarching order and thematic elements of the book with their comments. I also was able to pull poetry that had been sitting for a little while, marinating, so that when I returned to edit it I could look at it fresh and know which ones had the most merit. This is not to say I didn’t sneak some fresh poems in, just that I had a bank of poems already written to choose from and craft into final products. One thing I would change is to find one editor who would go through with a fine-tooth comb and a totally brutal attitude, because I know there are things that could be better.
Choosing a Print-On-Demand Service: This was a relatively easy decision for me, because Ingram Spark offered hardback options. I’m sure there are smaller POD publishers out there that could offer the same, but Ingram also had strong distribution offerings. I also considered KDP, Blurb, and Lulu, all with their corresponding pros and cons, but ultimately the design was something I cared too much about, so I went with Ingram. The point, in my mind, is to choose the POD service that fits your goal for the book.
Running an Indiegogo Campaign: This took a large amount of effort, but was also one of the most fulfilling aspects of making this book a reality. I could write an entire post about this in and of itself, but if you’re thinking about doing this, pay close attention to three things. First, have a short run-time, both for your mental health and for the sake of keeping attention. Second, calculate in a buffer on your cost analysis (you will likely run into costs you didn’t know about, so it’s best to add some extra in). Third, take great care to schedule in updates, additional promotions, and bonuses for your supporters. Honestly, though, I couldn’t have been more thrilled with both the response and care of everyone who got involved. More on that later…
Design and Illustration: I had a superstar collaborator for this in the mythical form of Josie Koznarek. Not only did she create the whole aesthetic of the book out of a few scant ideas I gave her, she was great fun to work with. I knew coming into this that I needed help in the design and formatting area. You may be more savvy with those things than I am, which is great. But I really cannot overstate the value of collaboration here. Also, pay your artist friends. They are worth it, and in the case of Josie, well beyond worth it.
Timing: When it comes to my ability to deliver something on a deadline, I am usually dangerously optimistic, and this was no exception. Especially because I was doing it for the first time, there was no real way I could anticipate all of the back-and-forth between me and Josie and Ingram to make this happen, beyond such things as extended shipping times and corrections. I ended up releasing the book a full month after my chosen date. In my case, this didn’t prove to be too problematic in the end, except for my sanity. Next time I will just plan to add a month of buffer time into the schedule to manage the extra time.
Amazon: Amazon really provided nothing but a series of issues from day one when I had to jump through ten hoops just to get the cover to show up. After that, once they sold out of the copies they had, they gave the Buy button up to a third-party seller who cranked the price sky-high and never ordered more copies. I’m in the process with them of making this right, but I’ve been pretty disappointed with the whole experience. However, I’ve recently learned about Bookshop, and not only are they selling the book at the right price, they’ve pumped over $2M into local bookstores.
Now onto some more overarching thoughts.
Expectations
When it came time to launch the book, I was just ready to get it out the door. I had put together a number of launch week events and ideas, and executed those when the week rolled around. But overall, I had not built a very robust platform for the launch to get it out to people who weren’t already familiar with it.
However, I did have a built-in launch team with all of the wonderful people who supported the book. They did some very kind promotion, posted reviews on Amazon, and generally provided a great rah-rah environment. And here’s the thing: they were technically my first sales anyway. I had to keep reminding myself about this when I got only 8 sales in the first week.
While I definitely could have prepared better for the launch, lining up more interviews, reviews, and publicity, the real problem was my expectations. Not only did I launch a self-published poetry book existing in the space between sacred and secular markets after Christmas, but I was in the launch team of another traditionally-published book by an established author during my own launch. This meant I got to see all of the things I could have been doing while not having the ability to do them.
I’m laughing out loud at myself right now as I write this, given the circumstances and perspective that time provides. But I was actually really discouraged by this at the time, and not a little bit jealous. I was disappointed in myself for not doing more, which is kind of my besetting sin anyway. And I was so proud of my book that I couldn’t help being a little crestfallen when it didn’t “make a splash.”
I’m also grateful, in a weird way, for how the launch went down, because it pushed me to invest in the long haul of the book. I began livestreaming Behind the Broken Season, which has been a huge growing experience for me. I created playlists for each season. I moved on to writing new poetry more quickly.
I will change a few things based on this experience, for sure. Next time, I’ll plan more time before the launch to do promotional work like podcasts, pre-orders, and advance copy reviews. I’ll go about building a launch team with rewards for those involved. I’ll plan an actual physical launch party at a local bookstore or library.
But mostly, I’ll control my expectations and remember that the goal of all of this was different than making a bunch of sales. If that happens, it’s only icing.
Community
I loved doing the Indiegogo campaign for two reasons. One was that I literally could not have produced the book the way I envisioned it without the start-up funds. But the other was that it was pure joyous shock to me to see how many people cared enough to support it. That’s why the acknowledgements page of the book is so precious to me, because all of those names represent actual people who are directly responsible for the existence of this book.
The point of this is not that everyone should do an Indiegogo campaign to publish their book. But it reminded me of the reality that no work of art ever comes to be in a vacuum. There are so many people who influence creative work that it’s impossible to acknowledge all of them.
This makes me incredibly grateful to those people in my life. It makes me want to make more and better art for them. It inspires me to seek out ways I can use my art to encourage and support my community.
And collaboration with Josie was this kind of grace in abundance. Our collaboration was a pure joy and the book is exponentially better because of it.
The Act of Making
Coming into fall of 2019, I was pretty low. I was picking up the pieces of several big disappointments, including one project I had been working for most of the year. I knew that I needed to make something, and at the bottom of my list for 2019 was to make a book of poetry. So I pivoted.
The primary goal of making SOLACE was not to make money off of it. It was not to build my platform. It was not to become a “legitimate” poet (whatever that means). I made SOLACE because I was discouraged and I needed to make something beautiful.
I’ve talked with a few poet friends about the nature of poetry as a way of seeing. Poetry, for me, has functioned as a light in the dark. It’s a reminder that I am my Creator’s child, that I am not alone, that I am more than my words or my work. Writing poetry reveals to me, somehow, the through-lines of grace and hope in dark situations. I mean, this is what the book is all about, so maybe I don’t need to reiterate it.
What I’m getting at is that creating something, and seeing people gather around that making, was exactly what I needed at the time to keep going. I’m not sure I knew that at the beginning, but when I finally got my proof copy of the book, it definitely sunk in. And since then, the gradual process of unfolding SOLACE over the last few months in Behind the Broken Season, the notes from people of poems that encouraged them in their own dark places, etc. have been an ongoing celebration of what God has wrought out of that dark place.
I guess that if there’s a takeaway here, it’s that we should never underestimate what God can bring about through and in us when we obey the call He has given us to create. He truly does make beautiful, rich, true things out of dust, and I’m not just talking about poetry books anymore. Creating this book was worth it for that reminder alone.
So, on to the next one! 🙂
I’m sure I’ve missed something in this post, so if you have questions on the process of self-publishing or just want to chat about making things, let me know. I genuinely love the longer letters I’ve received from people in response to my monthly Tethered Letters, so please take that as an indication of my interest in hearing from you!