Never Say Never

New authors are sometimes surprised by what happens after they finish writing a book. Not the editing and published part but actually promoting it. Getting your work out there is a very public and occasionally jarring experience, especially compared to the long months—sometimes years—of solitary writing. It’s like walking out your front door and falling into the swimming pool. I’ve seen writers cringe—involuntarily turn in on themselves—when talking about it. Book festivals, book signings, interviews, and the like are work. Some authors, like me, are lucky and really love them. I enjoy meeting readers and getting book recommendations. I like talking shop with authors. I buy books when I’m away and look for good coffee shops. I nose around whatever town I’m in.

My first event was a book festival in Kentucky. I drove thirteen hours to get there and spent two days running on adrenaline. I couldn’t believe I was there. The space, Joseph-Beth Booksellers, was huge and packed with authors. I talked to anyone and everyone. I signed copies of my book. I was one of many watching people walk by, hoping they would stop at my table.

I sell plenty of books at events, especially for a new author with a minimal social media presence. Nobody knows who I am, so I talk about my book at every opportunity. There’s no buzz around my name, no more than a handful of people around my table at one time. I leave events riding high and crash in my hotel room hours later.

It’s encouraging to see the number of readers who come to these events. You hear all the time that Americans don’t read anymore, that people only buy books from Amazon, that AI will run us all out of business. The headlines pile up, and you wonder.

I was thinking about some of this while an older woman was telling me how much she hadn’t cared for my book. A local book club had spent the last month reading Of Sand and Bone, and I had been invited to enjoy wine and nibbles with them.

 Upon arrival, I was warned by the club’s kind and generous hostess that not everyone had enjoyed the book.

“That’s ok,” I said.

“One in particular,” she said, giving me a serious look.

We reassured each other that it would be fine and poured ourselves a glass of wine as the rest of the group breezed in, exchanging hearty hellos. They gave each other updates on the latest bits of news from their lives. They were warm and energetic. I liked them all right away.

The hostess had been right—one member of their group did not like my book and told me as much. It turned out what had so dissatisfied her was the creation myth that sets the tone for the rest of the narrative. In it, God and the Devil get into an argument about creation and free will. To prove a point, God abandons humanity, believing them capable of thriving without him.

“God wouldn’t say that,” the woman insisted to me. “God wouldn’t do that.”

Of Sand and Bone takes place in a version of our world that is, to put it mildly, harsh. The world is a desert, and while the cultural stories are ones the characters would be familiar with, they are not meant to be taken as literal truths. My attempt to explain didn’t help.

“It just took me so long to get through that part. I almost put it down and didn’t finish it at all.”

This was fascinating to me as the opening creation myth is two pages long. The book itself is also catalogued as fiction and doesn’t claim to be anything else.

“You’re young,” she went on. “You’ll learn.”

She meant my writing would improve with time and experience. That is certainly my intention. I have no doubt, however, that someone, somewhere, at some time will be offended by my writing. There are people out there who are taken aback by If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and up in arms over Captain Underpants. I would consider myself both a disgrace and a mathematical improbability if everyone always liked everything I wrote.

In defense of my version of the story of creation, I was interested in this idea of an environment so harsh that people felt they had been forsaken. It sounds like a strange thought, but haven’t you ever felt abandoned, even if it wasn’t true? What if everyone you knew felt the same way, indeed your entire modern culture placed this idea at the inception of the world?

I think humanity would be mostly the same. People would still cling to and claw at each other; would still strive and thrive. To me, this is a happy and comforting thought. It’s a small part of the book, blending into the background, adding a bit of color if you look directly at it. You don’t have to. Exploration and discovery, inspired by some of the most dangerous expeditions in our history, are front and center.

I actually had a wonderful time at the book club and would gladly attend again. I wish I had asked more questions. I wanted to know more about what seemed like a fun group of women.

I wonder what they’re reading now.