I Don't Talk About My Book Enough

Less than 0.1% of the global population will ever write a book. Not publish — write.Someone told me that statistic recently, at an event where I talked about my book. Around 0.0086% are published authors.Over 50% of U.S. writers are women, which is major, major progress.And when we filter by Black women?We make up 4% to 7% of published authors in America.Regardless of the exact stats, which are changing all the time and differ based on where you collect them —I’m in very rare company as a published author.And a self-published author at that.You know what’s wild, though?As I went to type ‘self-published’, what I first wrote was ‘selfish.’And I can’t blame that on autocorrect. That was 100% my subconscious at work.Selfish.It’s a word that’s been viewed as ‘dirty’ and very much weaponized as an insult.It makes my skin crawl a little, as a recovering people pleaser.We’re all selfish to some extent, though, aren’t we? Or shouldn’t we be?I deserve to be proud of my book.I deserve to talk about my book without making excuses about what I would’ve done differently.It’s not about the number of copies I’ve sold or the money I’ve made.There is a book with my name on it, sitting on people’s bookshelves.A book I rarely talk about.People have said such beautiful, kind things about my book, The Start Of It All. Many people read it in a day. Someone in their seventies even loved it. Imagine that, a 70-something loving a book that I wrote for 20-somethings. And yet — I don’t really talk about it. Ever. I wrote it, published it, posted about it a few times, sold a hundred or so copies, and then…just stopped.It’s not intentional. I’m not trying to hide my book.Or maybe I am, subconsciously?The Start of It All is a book full of questions designed to help you get to know yourself better, paired with stories about my 20s. And that’s mostly true. But if we’re being specific…Those stories about my 20s? They’re about my messiest moments. When I hand my book to someone, it feels like I’m handing a part of myself over to them — because I am. I truly poured my entire being into this book. I always say that I want my vulnerability to be a permission slip for yours, and I mean that. I love handing out those permission slips left and right, here inside The Nuance Diaries each week. I talk about this Substack all the time. But not the book. Why don’t I talk about my book?I’ve already had more success as a writer than I ever could have dreamed of.I have an amazing playwriting agent.My work is featured in The Best Women’s Monologues of 2022; the same kind of anthology I used to look for monologues in high school. My plays have been performed across the country — most recently, at Notre Dame this Spring. The college senior directing it emailed me that they were rehearsing on the beach in Mexico on Spring Break.I’ve never been to Mexico. Or Notre Dame.But my words have.A play that I wrote on my couch in pajamas has literally been to a country that I myself have not. I’m pretty proud of that. So why not the book that I wrote in pajamas at my kitchen table?In the project proposal for my senior thesis, I told the committee that if just one person had a “me too” moment during my play, I’d be unimaginably happy and proud. I still feel that way about all of my work. If any contribution I’ve made to the world can help someone feel less alone, I’ve done my job. I know for a fact that The Start Of It All has helped many people feel not only less alone, but truly seen. The very thing I craved during my 20s — and still do now.In my 20s, I needed to know that I hadn’t screwed up my life entirely.I still need daily reminders of that.In my 20s, I needed to know that I still had time.I still feel like I’m running out of time, a la Hamilton. In my 20s, I needed to know that it was okay to have a lot of questions and no answers.These days, I’m smart enough to know that no one has the answers.In my 20s, I needed to know that ‘crushing my 20s’ wasn’t a prerequisite for a good life.I now know that anyone who says they crushed their 20s is lying to either you or themselves.Perhaps what I needed most of all in my 20s was for someone to tell me that no one knows more about me than I do. Because it’s true.No one knows more about me than me.Just like no one knows more about you than you.Having that kind of personal autonomy would have drastically changed my life at any point in my 20s. I have no idea how different my life might have been if I had started listening to my intuition over everyone else’s advice sooner.No regrets, though. I sincerely mean that.Some of the biggest, messiest moments from my 20s that I swore in the moment I would never tell anyone?They’re in the book. My messiest moments are now my best stories.I fully own my entire story, not only because I have compassion for myself, but because I want to extend as much compassion as I can to as many people as I can.I’m realizing that I can’t really extend the compassion without talking about my book.And also, that owning my story means celebrating my story. If in their lowest moment, someone thinks to themselves, “Alexa would never be as hard on me as I’m being on myself right now”, then I got one thing right.I want The Start Of It All to be a companion to you in those moments — just like Glennon Doyle was to me on the night I lost my mind, and found myself. (Well, her book was that companion to me, not actual living, breathing Glennon Doyle, although I really do think we’d make such great friends.) Glennon Doyle is truly my proof that you can embrace your mess, feel it all, pivot more than a few times, and still wind up with a beautiful, beautiful life.My life is proof of that, too.I actually think imperfect, messy women lead the best lives.Imperfect, messy women who aren’t entirely sure why they’re uncomfortable talking about their books, but are doing it anyway. An older version of me would have waited until I self-analyzed to death and figured out the precise reason why promoting my book feels so icky. I hate that it feels icky. I don’t want it to feel icky. But instead of trying and trying to figure out why that is, I’m going to just start running in the opposite direction of my discomfort, feel the fear, and talk about the book anyway.At that same event I mentioned in the beginning, an incredible woman said something I’ll never forget.While telling me about her new affirmation cards, Chantha Thach said, “They’re magic.” She kept talking about the deck with the group we were chatting with. I interrupted a few moments later.“Did you just call your cards magic?”She confirmed. She did. I told her how much I loved hearing a woman confidently describe her own creation that way. I told her that I wished I could be that confident about my book.I’m working on it. I’ll get there. For now, I’ll repeat that statistic to myself. For a Pisces, I actually really like data. Less than 0.1% of the global population will ever write a book. Not publish — write.I am part of that 0.1% I’m a published author. I wrote a goddamn book. And it’s high time I celebrate. PS It’s 22% until Sunday! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe