I remember when my first book was published. It wasn’t that long ago, only three years. I remember the thrill and the excitement that I had actually written a book. I remember the elation when I opened the box containing twenty copies of Phoenix Rising. I swore I’d never forget those feelings. and I haven’t. I still feel the rush of excitement every time I order copies of my latest release. Naturally, the degree of excitement has leveled down a bit.
This past week, I relived those feelings all over again. Not for me, but for my best friend. Even though we hadn’t met yet, FJ Roberts and I started writing at the same time. He churned out book after book, only to have them fill up several jump drives. Not sure how to go about getting them published, they sat there, read only by a few close friends.
We met at a writer’s conference almost two years ago, and I shared my experiences with him. I told him about ups and downs with editors, my trials with formatting, learning to make teasers and videos, then promoting. I told him what I knew of publishing. He listened, and he asked questions. I helped as much as I could. I went as far as to go over his book one last time after three editors (that's another story) had already made their passes.
He finally took the plunge and self-published his first novel. We talked for hours. Okay, I listened for hours 😉 as the onslaught of emotions hit him. Comments from his friends overwhelmed him, then the sales hit. He was stunned. I was excited. For no promotion yet, he’s done extraordinarily well. I’m proud of him. I wish him the best and can’t wait to see all his books published.
To me, this is the best part of indie publishing. We support each other, helping to build up, not tear down.
Until next week,