It’s fair to say that the last six months have been incredibly challenging for me. Is it typical to feel like crying (and sometimes actually do) every time someone innocently asks, “How are you?” Well, that’s been my reality for a while now.
After the release of my first book, I quickly realized how much I thrived on the exhilaration that came with being a published author. Sure, there were some bumps along the way—like the time I had a reading with only one attendee—but the highs were so immense that they overshadowed the lows. I made it onto the New York Times bestseller list, went on an exhilarating book tour, earned out my advance, and even sold the foreign rights. I became completely hooked on that rush.
However, the excitement came to a screeching halt. As summer rolled in, I found myself chatting with my agent, expressing my boredom. I missed the interviews, the events, and the thrill of readings. Her response was simple: “Write another book.” So, I jumped back into the writing process.
Once the writing was done, I eagerly anticipated the release of my second book, feeling more prepared than ever. I was no longer a novice; I was ready for this to be even bigger than the first. I was ready to ride that exhilarating roller coaster once again!
Regrettably, the anticipated highs never materialized. Instead, I was met with a series of unfortunate events. Just before my book launched, I learned that due to a dispute with my publisher, all copies of my book would be pulled from Barnes & Noble shelves—along with many other authors’ work. No in-store promotions, no online marketing, and definitely no book tour. I was advised to keep quiet about this debacle and to concentrate on Amazon sales. I did my best to comply.
The initial week’s sales were disheartening, and things only went downhill from there. Perhaps it was the Barnes & Noble issue, or maybe it was the shadow of the Boston Marathon bombings that loomed over us, or the deluge of similar books hitting the shelves at the same time. Whatever the reason, my second book’s performance was dismal, making it painfully clear that a third book might be out of reach. I felt like I had been hit by a freight train when I had signed up for an amusement park ride!
The disappointments kept piling up. A promising 20/20 segment I filmed with my community was scrapped because it was deemed “too positive” for television. The expected press coverage never materialized, and books I needed for events didn’t arrive, leaving me unable to sell to an eager audience. I tried to keep a sense of humor, but without any highs to balance the lows, my second book felt like an abysmal failure.
I was continuously told to avoid discussing the negatives; no one wants to hear about a “loser.” If I presented myself as successful, I would attract success. So, I kept quiet, hoping things would turn around. But with each passing week of disappointing sales, another piece of my self-esteem chipped away.
This blog, my safe haven for honesty, became a space where I felt the need to pretend. I had built a community around authenticity, yet I found myself unable to share my disappointments. I wrote lighthearted pieces, skimming the surface while avoiding the deeper issues that weighed heavily on my mind. Gradually, I felt myself fading away, bringing in more contributors to fill the void of my silence.
While I’m proud of how community-driven this platform has become, I also miss having my own voice here. There have been countless topics I can’t address anymore—my children are growing up, and I’m not comfortable sharing every detail of their lives. I appreciate having other women contribute their perspectives, but I began to resent the very site I created and loved.
You might think this sounds trivial or even self-indulgent. You could be rolling your eyes and categorizing it as “First World Problems.” After all, I’m fortunate to have published two books, and things could certainly be worse. But the truth is, the past six months have been exhausting. I’ve put on a brave face, avoided burning bridges, and done what I was told—but enough is enough.
I’m finally ready to emerge from the shadows I’ve been hiding in. I want to reclaim the pride I once felt in this space, rather than being weighed down by disappointment. I want to write passionately again instead of feeling paralyzed by insecurity and deleting drafts before they ever see the light of day. It’s time to be inspired, excited, and positive, and I realize I can’t do that unless I share my truth with all of you.
So, there you have it—the unvarnished truth from me, at long last. Here’s to moving forward, my friends. It’s time to embrace the journey ahead.
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Summary
In this candid reflection, Emma Hartley shares her struggles with the disappointing aftermath of her second book release, detailing how external pressures and negative experiences led to a profound sense of insecurity and disconnection from her writing. She expresses a longing to reclaim her voice and passion while acknowledging the importance of honesty in her journey.
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