I have a tendency to downplay my accomplishments to acquaintances in the real world. Yeah, I wrote a few books, but what do they care about that? I’m always so sure that if I bring it up, it will sound like I’m just #humblebragging, you know?
It took me a long time even to answer that I was an author when people asked what I “do.”
“Talk about your books!” my friends would urge.
I’d hem and haw and generally get a little awkward about it.
But the universe keeps reminding me that I need to stop that.
Here’s how I was reminded this weekend:
I went to a wedding this past weekend. I’d say I knew roughly half the guests there–both the bride and groom are friends from college. Some of my friends there have read– if not all, then at least one of– my books.
And then they told their friends about them.
See, I know that because, at this wedding, a couple of wonderful strangers approached me and told me that they had been told by So-and-So that I wrote books. What were they about? They sounded like something they’d like. Where could they find them?
“Amazon, Barnes and Noble.com, iBooks… Oh, and they’re also available as audiobooks and paperbacks.”
They wrote the information down. One even followed me on Goodreads (hello, if you’re reading this!).
And, I mean, maybe they’ll read them and maybe they won’t. But if my friends hadn’t mentioned what I failed to, they’d never have known that my books existed. Look at the power of word of mouth! Maybe they will buy a book. Maybe one of them will a book and tell another friend about it. Maybe they’ll like it enough to leave a review on Amazon!
My point is, by keeping our books private, secret things, as though they are diaries that must be kept tucked under the mattress, we are not being noble.
We are doing our books a disservice.
Talk about your books, my friends. And start serving them right.
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