What Publishing My First Book Taught Me (The Hard Way)

 

Some people think writing a book is a massive achievement—and don’t get me wrong, it is. But the weight of that achievement depends on what you hope to get out of it.

 

I’ve noticed two main camps of people who want to write a book:

 

One wants to fulfill a long-awaited dream.

The other hopes to make a lot of money, quit their day job, and live the author life.

 

Some even imagine becoming the next J.K. Rowling after one book, as if that’s the normal outcome.

 

None of those motivations are wrong. But if you truly want to be an author for the long haul, I think you need a little of all of them on the table.

 

If your goal is to publish one book so you can call yourself an author, that’s wonderful. But here’s the harder question:

 

Are you proud of your book because you wrote it…

or because it’s actually worth reading?

 

If you’re going to do this—even once—you owe your story your best.

 

The Book You Don’t Talk About

 

I say this because, technically, I’ve just launched my very first publication.

 

I say technically because somewhere hidden on the internet is another book I wrote long ago. You won’t find it. I won’t hint at it. And that’s on purpose.

 

When I was younger, I had a burning dream of becoming a writer. I worked diligently, wrote nearly every day, and in five months, I had a completed novel. I was ecstatic.

 

The problem?

 

I had raw talent but no knowledge of story craft—and don’t even get me started on editing.

 

I didn’t understand that writing a book and publishing a book are two completely different worlds. I had no marketing plan. No genre awareness. No understanding of writing to market, which is what I really wanted to do.

 

So I did what many first-time authors did back then: I paid a print-on-demand company a good chunk of money to “publish” my book.

 

I’d only gotten encouraging feedback from a few friends and family members. I took that as a greenlight.

 

The truth is, the book wasn’t completely terrible. My storytelling showed. But the prose didn’t. The story didn’t fit a clear niche. And even if it had, I wouldn’t have known how to market it.

 

The package I bought included copyediting, formatting, a kindle book, a website, a book blurb, and—yes—a press release. 🙄

 

I didn’t even know there were different kinds of edits. I didn’t know how to prepare a manuscript for a copyedit. I used a friend-of-a-friend for the cover, which—embarrassingly—looked like a comic book cover for what was essentially a romance/sci-fi/mystery hybrid.

 

By the time it was all done, I had a poorly edited novel that looked nothing like it should have. Not to mention, I was very aware of every flaw and I couldn’t take it back.

 

For years, I cringed whenever anyone mentioned that book. I wanted to divorce my name, my memory, and my identity from its existence.

 

But here’s the twist.

 

That was fifteen years ago—and I’m grateful for it.

 

Even the “rip-off” deal I thought I’d gotten wasn’t actually terrible—now that I truly understand each stage of the publishing process and how fast the cost can add up. If I’d understood cover design, editing, and genre, it could’ve been a good package. The books themselves weren’t even bad quality.

 

What I really learned was everything not to do.

 

Fifteen Years Later

 

Fast forward to now.

 

This time, I wrote a book I’m proud of. I hired a line editor. I invested in a proper cover. I did it right.

 

And yet… I still rushed.

 

I skimmed on marketing. I launched without a substantial mailing list. I wanted the book out rather than waiting until the foundation was solid.

 

Sound familiar?

 

I read books on publishing. I skipped advice I didn’t want to hear. I nearly repeated the same mistake—just in a modern way.

 

Closing: A Calling, Not a Checkbox

 

The biggest lesson?

 

Publishing isn’t the finish line.

It’s the starting gate.

 

Next time, I will plan.

Next time, I will build first.

Next time, I will treat marketing as part of the craft, not an afterthought.

 

And next time, I will happily hire a formatter instead of losing weeks trying to do something I’m not equipped to do.

 

Writing a book is an achievement.

 

But writing a book worth reading—

and building a future around it—

 

That’s a calling.

 

And I’m finally walking in it with open eyes.

 

The Road Forward

 

In my next post, I’ll share the specific things I’ll do differently next time—from building a mailing list to planning a launch that doesn’t rely on hope and caffeine.