So on December 1st, I published this book God’s Whisper Manifesto to describe the vision I have for how life on my farm will go. I wrote the book hot and fast, and I liked it. The writing was good, I thought, and the concepts were appealing and grounding . . . at least to me.  My editor liked it. My boyfriend liked it, and I think he was sincere in that, although he’s a smart man and acts well. 

Off to press it went, and I sold a copy of a book I wrote. I was elated.

Sales kept going for a couple of weeks, and people kept signing up for my newsletter to get their free copy.  I felt great.

Then, well, sales stopped. Completely. No copies sold at all in over two weeks.  Let’s just say I was less than giddy about this.

I had hoped this book would change millions (okay, at least thousands. Alright, I’d take hundreds) of lives and inspire people to live with intention.  And maybe it did . . . but the sales didn’t show that.  I was disappointed.  Still am, a little, if I’m honest.

But then I remembered something – I don’t write to sell books. I don’t write to change lives. I don’t write to make money. I admit, all of those things would be nice.  But they are not the reasons I write.

I write because it is what I am made to do. Because it keeps me sane and healthy. Because it helps me understand the world and myself.

Do I wish that more people bought my book? Of course. Do I wish that making a living as a writer was easier? Of course. Do I wish our society valued the work of writers and other artists more? Of course.  But at the core, those things don’t matter. I write because it is part of who I am at my deepest self. 

So I will probably keep checking those sales numbers, and I’ll probably keep being disappointed a little. But I’ll also keep writing because that’s where the life is – in the practice, not the purchase.

When has something about writing disappointed you? What keeps you coming back?