I’m no stranger to the post-success malaise. As a performing artist, I have experienced the thrill of a show, the rapture of performance, the joy of audience connection, and the elation of body chemistry—neurotransmitters, adrenaline, endorphins, oxytocin—only to wake up the next day and find myself in a slump.
It’s happened before, so it should be no surprise that it’s happening now, right after such a big event for me, except it’s different this time. If I keep the show metaphor going, I feel like all the planning and prep was done, all the practice, all the effort, even a dress rehearsal, and then, fast forward to the post show slump. I had all parts of the show, but not the show itself.
Planning, writing, editing all feel like practice for the show. Having the launch might be analogous to a dress rehearsal. But the real show is supposed to be your book in the hands of thousands of audience members. And there is supposed to be a moment of basking in the afterglow of a story well told—a story shared. It was great to have such a strong opening day. Lots of sales and many enthusiastic friends, but now I’m in the malaise of marketing, pressing, begging: Come and read my book!. It’s good. Experience this story with me!
If an artist paints a painting in the woods and no one is there to see it, is it still art?
Well, the answer is simple: It is still art. And just as valid. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.
For now, the march must go on. I will steep myself in marketing misery and keep refreshing my browser and waiting for the curtains to open.
