As I write this, my book is 920th in the Amazon rankings.
I’d like to pretend it’s no big deal. But, truth be told, it’s sort of a bummer. But not a real bummer. Because, when one writes a book that succeeds (and four weeks on the New York Times list is, in my mind, a success), it’ll also, inevitably, fail. Which doesn’t mean “failure,” so to speak, but merely, well, that life moves on. Your book is hot, then it’s less hot, and less hot, until, finally, it’s not hot at all. It’s merely a book, comfortably positioned alongside other books in the Barnes & Noble sports section. You hope to avoid the Dollar General $1 bin as long as humanly possible, but even that’s an inevitability. Books come, books go. They’re just, come day’s end, books.
That being said, I love Sweetness. Love it. Never worked harder on a project; never put more blood and sweat and time and effort into a project. So if you’re looking for something to read, and haven’t given it a go, please consider my book.
After all, 920 ain’t no joke.
Oh, one more thing. As sad as a fading book can be, it’s not nearly as sad as the author who refuses to let go. I’ve known many a writer who doesn’t seem to recognize the time to approach a new project; or take a long nap; or go swimming; or … something. Whoring a book can be fun and euphoric and engrossing, but all things must end.
Am I there yet? Not quite. But, inevitably, the time will come.