Publishing has always been a fucking nightmare, but now it’s a layer of hell. It’s not enough that writers be good at what they do. Writers have to maintain an active social media presence and cultivate a following. Be available.
They have to be conventionally attractive enough to look good enough to see on a screen, aesthetically pleasing, kind, funny, up-to-date on trends, socially aware but not so controversial that they turn off a brand from California from slapping their discount code on a video promoting a book.
They have to do all of this with no media training, with little help from the companies that are supposed to be doing this for them.
Of course, a lot of this isn't possible for say, the 40-something mother of two who teaches English at a school and writes on the side. She’s boxed out of an already complex industry that already has enough walls.
On some level, I think authors have always marketed themselves a little, but we’ve reached such a crazy point where we’re demanding the author become the influencer. Accessibility in publishing has narrowed from an inch to a sliver. And that inch was hard enough to get in as is.
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🎄 🎅🏽 🎂
“Ahem.”
You turn around with your baby girl and see Levi donned in a Santa hat, an unamused expression on his face.
You giggle as you walk over to him. “You look so cute!” You exclaim.
His mini me on your hip seems to agree as she coos excitedly when her eyes land on him. “Yes, doesn’t daddy look so cute?” You say in an exaggerated happy voice.
Levi rolls his eyes at you but you can see the corners of his lips curve upwards. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He speaks softly as he carefully takes her from your arms. Her chubby little hand immediately starts to pull on the white ball at the end of Levi’s hat. “She wants it off just like I do.” He remarks.
“Shush.” You adjust the hat for him so it’s harder for her to grab.
Levi playfully pouts. “I know…” Levi murmurs into the babe’s cheek, “Mama’s so mean for not letting you play with it.” He smirks as his gaze sets on you while he gently bounces her in his arms.
You’re about to playfully chastise him when your daughter babbles happily at the skin to skin contact between her and her father. Your heart melts at the sight and you quickly grab your phone to commemorate the moment. Levi never used to be a fan of photos (and for the record he still isn’t) but he feels differently when you or her are included, especially her.
“Happy Birthday Daddy!” You say with a beaming smile before you take the photo. Little babe follows the sound of your voice as she smushes her cheek against Levi’s, emitting a small chuckle from him. You’re grateful you’re able to catch their expressions on camera, the beautiful moment now frozen in time.
“Now a picture with both of my girls.” Levi gently tugs you by the waist and you eagerly oblige, briefly pausing to let Levi put your daughter between the two of you.
Your daughter continues to assault Levi’s cheek regardless of where she’s placed and you do the same with your daughter, pressing your lips lovingly against her cheek.
You don’t know it but in that moment Levi’s never felt more happy, or more loved. In that moment, he’s certain birthdays/Christmases aren’t so terrible after all.
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