Tiffany M. Davis

Here we are, two days past the official release of my first solo novel, The Bastille Family Chronicles: Camille (informally known as The Camille Chronicles), and I’m trying not to be “THAT” author.  You know, the author who scours the internet for any mention of his or her name, book title, Facebook posts, Tweets, blog posts, Pinterest pins, Instagram pictures…anything.

Nope, not trying to go there. Even though I took a peek at my royalty statements to see what kind of activity my book is doing. And Googled myself (there are a LOT of people with my name…including a woman in San Francisco, where I used to live, who is also a cook, as I used to be. At least we look nothing alike !). All of which I’d told myself not to do, for the sake of my sanity.

I had to breathe, stop, and write this blog before I lost myself in tater tots and back episodes of NCIS, before Graceland comes on .

It’s not the writing that will drive you insane, though it is a close second. What drives a writer insane is the afterbirth, if you will, of the book being published. The postpartum depression, for most of us, that sets in when our books aren’t flying off the shelves like those of our favorite bestselling authors…most of whom have been writing books for many, many moons and are at the point in their careers where they can phone it in, if they choose (and some have done it. *Sigh*).  The realization that you can get the word out there via every social media venue known to man, but that’s about all you can do. You can spread the word to every warehouse, outhouse, doghouse, foxhouse and henhouse (to paraphrase US Marshall Gerard in the movie The Fugitive), but short of forcing people to click the “Buy Now” button, you can’t make people buy your work. Even if you think it’s the best thing since sliced bread, your opinion no longer matters. What mattes now is the court of public opinion, which is fickle on a good day.

Not to mention any reviews given. The positive ones are always great to get,but what about the not-so-positive ones? The ones that pretty much feed that voice in your soul that you managed to still, the one that whispered, “see, I told you this wasn’t going to work.” The internet makes it easy for people to spew invective behind aliases; e-gangsterism is the new black. It doesn’t matter if it’s a reader who just couldn’t connect with your work, or someone you slighted who sees this as a means of revenge, or someone who just wants to see you fail, for whatever reason.

Trying to keep up with all of this, AND continue writing, will make you lose it. So try not to do it.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, time for tater tots. Thanks for stopping by.