I am exhausted and frustrated and close to tears. I sold three books tonight at the store. I paid for this trip myself. My Amazon number is for shit. I feel like I’ve sort of reached my limit in sales – I pray I’m wrong about that – and I’m just treading marketing water now. I hate to sound so down but that’s the way I’m feeling. I live a pretty solitary life but this life-on-the-road has taken the loneliness I often feel and encased it with a meta-loneliness that is becoming increasingly difficult to cope with on a night like this.
My book‘s not even out but I still feel for him. The obsession within the publishing industry on the Amazon rank of your book is unbelievable (and stupid, since it’s only one very opaque metric).
With the pub date of my book a few weeks away, I’m beginning to feel the full range of emotions: genuine excitement for the platform my ideas will now have and for the people I will likely meet, and intense nervousness about whether people will like and buy the book.
(hat tip: Andrew Sullivan)