On being human and writing a book
My first book with a major publisher comes out on May 6th. It's called Raising Disciples at Home. You may have already received your copy and may have even read some. I hope Jesus meets you in its pages.
I'd released books into the wild for three years through Kaleidoscope when I signed the contract for this book. I was (and still am) new to the game, but I'm not a complete amateur. I remember the nervous/excited/overconfident feeling of signing that contract; I know what I'm doing here. This will be easy.
I was wrong.
You've likely seen some of the behind-the-scenes of the publishing world if you care to look around a bit. There are the agents, the deadlines, the sleepless nights, the editors, and the sales goals. Oh, the sales goals. But there is something unseen to even the most keen observer. It's hidden from view, carefully tucked away so nobody else knows—concealed behind layers of slick marketing and platform building.
This unseen something is what happens internally before your book is released to the world. To peel back the curtain, I'll share three recurring, sometimes haunting, thoughts that play in the background of my mind during the mundane hours leading up to May 6th.
1) I don't know you. Last week, a podcaster asked me about the hardest part of writing this book. The answer was easy. By far, the most challenging part of writing a book like Raising Disciples at Home is that I do not personally know everyone this book will come into contact with. Books don't come with my body language and voice. This book will meet you in the unique context of your life. Words, phrases, and examples I intend to be heard one way will be understood in completely different ways. And I won't be there to help you understand what I mean.
In my work as a pastor, and even to some extent on social media, I'm able to sit with people face to face, say hard things, joyful things, sad things, and hopeful things, and let them know, with a reassuring glance or a hug, that my words come from a place of love.
I can't do that for readers. I hate that.
2) I'm sharing a secret. As I type this, perhaps 10-15 people have read Raising Disciples at Home between my agent, editors, endorsers, and a few friends. And yet, it's been years in the making. I've talked about it behind closed doors with confidants, careful not to let too much out of the bag before it's released to the public. If I'm honest, it has occupied huge swaths of time on my calendar, and yet it's the thing I've been able to talk about the least.
But, now the floodgates are open. What was once secret has instantaneously become public domain, and that is a very unsettling, vulnerable feeling.
3) I'll regret this. Perhaps the feeling I've tried to hide the most is the worry that I'll regret this whole experience. Books are written at a specific point in time with all the knowledge, limitations, maturity, and immaturity you possess at that moment. Truth be told, I finished the manuscript over a year ago. And I've grown a lot in that year. I've changed my mind about a few things. I've adopted new habits and practices and rid myself of others. I do not doubt that this book will stand the test of time. But, I wonder, will it stand the test of its creator's personal growth?
So, there it is. I don't share these reflections to garner your self-pity but to help you see that behind the spectacle of a book launch stands me: a mere person just like you—fully equipped with all the self-doubt we likely share. May Jesus meet us in this moment... to root us, ground us, and center us more fully upon his unending love for imperfect, insecure, and overconfident people like us.