A Year in Reflection: 12 Things I Learned from HTFAMG’s Debut

Confession time: this post has been sitting in my drafts since April 18, 2022. Although I swore I’d do better when I first ambitiously created a blog on my author website, I’ve unfortunately fallen into the same trap that plagues many of my peers in the industry. I created my shiny “How I Got My Agent” post and then… basically went radio-silent.

To be fair to myself and the Herculean amount of effort I put into running my socials, it’s not like I haven’t tried to stay relevant. My blog post graveyard is littered with working-title skeletons like “My Pitch Wars Experience” (I say, as we all sob in unison) or “Questions to Ask an Editor on The Call” (I never ended up publishing this one either, because I don’t think I’m the definitive resource to compile Editor Call questions. I’ve actually only had one Editor Call in my life, and at this point it was two years ago.)

Anyways. All this to say… How to Find a Missing Girl’s publication-anniversary is rapidly approaching. (It’s today, actually! Hi!) As I sit and type these words at an umbrella’ed picnic table outside of Lenoir Dining Hall on UNC-Chapel Hill’s campus, there’s a week to go before I will have been a traditionally published author for an entire year. Commence Operation Huge Freak Out, because… what? That’s wild.

I’m big on anniversaries. I’ve learned a lot from my debut experience, and I’m extremely lucky that I’ve been able to do a lot to advance my authorial career post-debut. I’ve been contracted (and paid) to lead nine virtual and in-person workshops. I’ve given presentations to high school and college clubs. Professors at my university have integrated me into their syllabi, and I’ve had the incredible opportunity to be able to travel to foreign countries to promote my novel (and release a translated edition in Slovakia) post-release.

So. Without further ado, here is the post that was once titled “How I Got My Book Deal,” which then became “How I Got My Book Deal: A How to Find a Missing Girl One-Year Anniversary Post,” which is now finally “A Year in Reflection: 12 Things I Learned from How to Find a Missing Girl’s Debut.”

TLDR: I wrote a listicle, with one lesson learned for every month I’ve been published. I hope it’s helpful to you.

lesson one: GETTING THE BOOK DEAL ISN’T THE HARDEST PART.

Woof. How oxymoronic, right? How easy to say. Personally, I had an incredibly lucky submission process. I didn’t struggle to get my book deal… which is part of the reason I’ve struggled to write a blog post expressly detailing the process in the first place. My Sub Story, to borrow Kate Dylan’s amazing blog post series of the same name, would largely look like this: My agent had a great sub plan. We went out at a great time. The book had a great premise and fit the current market well. As a result of all those factors, one editor rejected the book, and then within two weeks, another editor took the book to acquisitions. It sold in a very nice two-book deal; everything submission-related was fast and easy.

But everything else that came after? Not so much.

If you’ve read my How I Got My Agent blog post, or How to Find a Missing Girl for that matter, you probably know I’m an anxious person. I agonize. And throughout the entire process of releasing my debut novel, I agonized. Probably way too much.

I had a great editor, a great agent, and a great publishing team all in my corner. But I agonized over edits, and over cover design, and over marketing copy, over the marketing plan, and just… I don’t think I was prepared, really, for how hard everything would feel. So I want to impart that to you. Getting the book deal is amazing. It feels so good. But all the real work comes after you sign the contract. So for all intents and purposes, no matter how arduous the journey, I’m telling you now what I wish someone had told me (even though it may not apply to you, if you’d had a particularly grueling sub experience): getting the book deal isn’t the hardest part.

lesson two: SOCIAL MEDIA ISN’T YOUR GOD.

All of us breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Of course, there are definite benefits to being on social media. I have seen social media strategies employed strategically in ways that have worked and helped a book succeed; I have also seen efforts try and fail miserably. Here’s the thing: if you possess The Knack for social media, you likely already know it. You probably enjoy social media; maybe you even already run a few accounts of your own with a legitimate following. Mobilizing this following is great; it can help your numbers and make you look more appealing to your publisher. But a lot of the time, social media metrics are vanity metrics. They’re not actually indicative of sales; although your 20,000 followers may enjoy your content, only a handful of them are going to drop $18.99 MSRP on a full-length novel. And even if you do manage to mobilize a significant portion of your passive social media audience and turn them into paying customers, you will be able to move the needle only a fraction when compared to the Publisher Machine.

I can’t emphasize this lesson enough. I heard it all the time in the months preparing for debut—Only do social media if you enjoy it! Authors can’t move the needle themselves!—but I brushed off most of these comments, thinking I could make a tangible difference. I imagined myself as The Exception.

In a lot of ways (cough cough, vanity metrics), I was successful. I built a legitimate following of over 25,000 followers across a variety of platforms, with almost 11,000 followers on TikTok alone. I had high engagement; I interfaced with real customers and real readers. It felt exciting! I saw spikes in Goodreads To-Reads adds; the book climbed the ranks on NetGalley. But it still all felt quite ambiguous. How many of my To-Reads adds would actually translate to sales? How many NetGalley e-ARC requests were truly being accepted, and what percentage of accepted readers would actually 1) read the book and 2) review it early? I had no idea. And when my publisher ran a physical Goodreads giveway for HTFAMG, my To-Read numbers basically doubled overnight. All the work I had put in to edit content, create hooky pitches, and engage with my audience, and my publisher still out-performed me on a massive scale by simply… marketing my book with money. Imagine!

For this reason, social media is not your God. If you enjoy it, do it! You will probably move the needle slightly if you’re good at marketing; importantly, you will also make long-lasting friendships and connections online that you wouldn’t be able to cement otherwise. You may even get extraordinarily lucky. But even viral success online doesn’t guarantee sales. And being fully aware of that before debuting will help you to more accurately budget how much time you should devote to lip-synching to trending audios, and how much to spend… actually writing.

lesson three: TEACHING IS REWARDING AND WORTHWHILE.

Giving back is one of my favorite parts of being in this industry. There’s a lot of gatekeeping in publishing—many authors have to fight tooth-and-nail through whisper networks, social media discourse, and bitter jealousy (or worse, outright derision) from their family and friends to even hope at learning the tricks of the trade in the bloodbath of tradpub. Once you have a book deal, though, you become privy to Valuable Information. It’s up to you to choose where, how, and when you share that information—if you do at all. But in my opinion, sharing your amassed publishing knowledge with others is one of the most rewarding and worthwhile ways to spend your time. I’ve built a platform on staying open about my journey to authordom—and the lessons I’ve learned along the way—and it’s allowed me to give back in a way that fills my soul. Teaching is rewarding and worthwhile.

Now, I recognize that not everyone is a teacher. If the thought of standing in front of classrooms, speaking to readers, or posting writing tips on social media fills you with the heebie-jeebies, don’t sweat. There are a lot of other ways to feel fulfilled in your authorial role besides positioning yourself as an expert on the world of tradpub. You could donate signed copies to fundraisers, answer reader emails, or volunteer with literary organizations such as Authors Against Book Bans… just to name a few examples. But the important thing is that you find a way to give back. Publishing is not all about you, and sharing your story—in more ways than one—is empowering for both you and your audience.

lesson four: COMPARISON IS THE THIEF OF JOY.

It will be soooooo tempting to compare yourself. Constantly. Publishing is a business, after all, and humans are hard-wired to compare and contrast. You can easily fall into thought spirals and mental pitfalls within the entire process of debuting—she has a better cover, he had the largest advance, her book is climbing the NetGalley ranks and mine is falling, why didn’t I get a star from Kirkus when this book I hated did, why didn’t this author agree to blurb me when they blurbed XYZ—but fight against it. Fight as much as possible. Comparison is the thief of joy; if you want to have any shot at surviving in this industry, you need to re-wire your brain away from comparison as soon as possible. Recognize your feelings, allow yourself to sit with your emotions, and then let them go.

Publishing is not a race. A lot of it is predetermined; moping about it won’t get you anywhere. All you can do is put your best foot forward and write the next book. You have control over your own output in traditional publishing. Nothing else.

Also, be happy for your friends. Celebrate their wins. Freak out and geek out with them; encourage them to celebrate when they minimize their own accomplishments. It’s better to go through traditional publishing with a genuine support system—and though you’re not going to be able to be 100% supportive 100% of the time, do not let insecurities or jealousy destroy the relationships that will keep you grounded throughout publishing’s turbulent waters. A rising tide lifts all boats. Keep your eyes on your own paper, surround yourself with people who love you, and love them in turn.

lesson five: IF YOUR BOOK IS PUBLISHED, YOU ARE DEAD.

Caveat: I read my reviews. Authors have wildly differing opinions on this; for me, and for my own mental health, I prefer to see what people are saying (good and bad) about my writing. If I can, I use the feedback constructively to write better books for my ideal reader. However, my thoughts about my own reviews do not breach containment. If you don’t know how to engage with something silently, for the love of God, do not read your own reviews.

Death of the author is real. If you read your reviews, be sure to stay out of reader spaces at all times. Let me say that again: If you read your reviews, be sure to stay out of reader spaces AT ALL TIMES. This includes venting about bad/nonsensical/bigoted reviews on your Close Friends story. It includes DMing other authors to complain about their or your negative reviews. It includes complaining about reviews in 250-people-strong Debut Slacks, using positive reviews in marketing materials without your team expressly pulling them for such, using negative reviews in marketing materials to entice readers into reading your book a-la Gossip Girl TV show, and liking reviews of your own book. Stay away.

There will be times where you are tempted to forgo conventional wisdom and write your way out of criticism. You will want to release a public statement telling everyone why You Are Right and They Are Wrong about all the feedback they have regarding your book and its pesky characterization and the unraveling plot and all the “boring parts”; you will beg for an Author’s Note in the paperback release explaining your reasoning; you will silently thank the heavens for the three or four readers who truly Understand Your Vision. Do not succumb to defense. The only words that matter in the end are the ones you put on the page. If your book is published, you are dead.

If you are anything like me, this will be one of the hardest lessons for you to learn post-debut. It will also be one of the most important. Commit to learning it early, and learn it well.

In the end, despite the messaging publishers love to send out to convince you otherwise, Goodreads and The Storygraph mean nothing. Reviews are not about you. They are not for you. Let that shit go, and write another (better) book.

lesson six: PRE-ORDER CAMPAIGNS WILL BURN YOU OUT.

Pre-order campaigns will burn you out, so only take on as much as you know you can handle. (If that’s nothing, that’s fine too. Readers are getting more and more tired of pre-order swag, and only dedicated readers pre-order books from authors these days. It’s hard to reach most readers in order to tell them how important pre-orders are for sales—a lot of authors don’t bother. If you want to bother, that’s great! But all of us have only so many resources—energy, time, money, space.)

There are many ways to run a pre-order campaign or build hype for a book. You could run a street team; you could mail out art prints yourself to addresses you collect via a Google Form. Again, this is one of those do-it-if-you-want-but-it-probably-doesn’t-really-make-that-much-of-a-difference things. That was hard for me to stomach, again, because I thought I’d be The Exception. I ran a pre-order campaign for HTFAMG with art prints, and I also ran a promotional campaign for influencers where I sent each one a physical ARC, a custom keychain, a signed bookplate, an art print, and a book mark in a cardboard book box designed and customized to look like the book itself. It was a lot of work, and it cost a lot of money, and… this is the kicker… I don’t think it actually helped the book sales-wise. It may have gotten more eyes on HTFAMG than if I hadn’t sent the ARCs, and I felt proud of the personalized touch I gave to each influencer mailing, but many of the influencers I sent boxes to didn’t actually post about receiving the box (lolsob), so it was just a great way to 1) feel good about myself while 2) burning money. (Vanity metrics, rearing their ugly heads once again.)

Protect your peace, protect your energy, and only run what you can stomach. A pre-order campaign will not make or break your sales. It may give you a small boost, but the people who pre-order your book were likely going to pre-order it without a pre-order campaign. Another lesson learned.

lesson seven: PUBLISHING (IN GENERAL) WILL BURN YOU OUT.

Publishing (in general) will burn you out, so ensure you have multiple methods of reigniting your passionate flames at the ready.

Self-care is important. I don’t think publishing is necessarily designed to kill you, but it may get close. Take time for yourself. Meditate. Journal. Practice mindfulness. Ensure you eat while on deadline, and shower, and sleep when possible. Don’t feel guilty for resting.

While writing, you may temporarily grow to hate reading. This is normal—or at least, it was for me. Give yourself the time and space to fall back in love. Engage with story in as many ways, shapes, and forms as possible. Listen to podcasts. Watch TV shows. Read craft books, ask a family member to tell you a story from their childhood, eavesdrop on the conversations of strangers. Give yourself grace. Allow yourself to work through ebbs and flows in your process. Throw out your entire process and go back to the drawing board. Loop in your team when you need more time or if you’re feeling stuck. If you want something publishing-related, ask. The worst anyone can say is no. And if they say no, give yourself a period to grieve. At the end of the day, you are the person who cares the most about your book. Identify the three things that are most important to you about your debut and allocate energy to accomplish those tasks—anything additional will stress you out and likely not be worth it. Learn to live with the background noise.

lesson eight: FIGURE OUT YOUR FINANCES EARLY.

This lesson is hard for me to write about, because 100% of my book deal money went-and-is-still-going to funding my undergraduate education. Pro: No student loans! Con: No investments, no potential for growth, and no high-yield savings account. Oops.

Finances are tricky. What works for me may not work for you, and vice-versa. But what I do strongly recommend is to sit down and look at how your book deal money (AKA your advance) will impact you tax-wise. How often are the payouts? When are they scheduled? Should you invest in a Certified Public Accountant (CPA)? If you already have a CPA, should you switch from your current CPA to one who specializes in working with authors? How much of your office space will you be able to write off in taxes?

Also, open a high-yield savings account (HYSA) as soon as possible if you don’t already have one. The APR yields are much higher than with a regular savings account at a bank, and if you have extra money you want to put in savings, it’s better off in a HYSA than a regular savings account. The more you know!

Basically, do whatever is right for you. But choose to do something. Figure out your finances early, and make adjustments as needed. The nice splashy number in your contract is not how much you will be getting after your agent takes their 15% cut, you realize it’s split into 4 or 5 installments, and you get hit with taxes… so be smart and be aware.

Note: I am not a financial advisor, and this is not official financial advice. I am literally a college Business Administration major—but if you can make your life easier financially for as long as possible with book money, take the steps early on to do so.

lesson nine: JOIN YOUR DEBUT SLACK EARLY, AND ENGAGE WITH OTHER AUTHORS AS MUCH AS YOU CAN.

All debuts typically have a Debut Slack to share news, ask for advice, and vent to each other. This is great. It can also be super overwhelming. As a result, I didn’t join my Debut Slack Group until much later in my debut process, and it made it harder to plug in to the community. (That being said, everyone in my 2023 Debut Slack was super lovely and welcoming! It just felt tricky to navigate on my end after friendships had already been formed.)

If possible, join your debut slack early. And engage with other authors as much as you can. The friendships, alliances, and acquaintances you make within your debut group are so important. To name a concrete example, my 2023 Debut Slack had a crowdfunded, shared Canva Pro account which we all used to create assets in the months-long slog of promo (Barnes & Noble Bi-Annual Pre-Order Sale, anyone?) leading up to debut. For a broke college student like me (see Lesson Eight above), this was invaluable. I also learned a lot from the other authors in the group—what was normal, what wasn’t, questions I should ask that never even crossed my mind—so I absolutely recommend using others around you as a resource and giving back to them in turn. If you ask a lot of questions, make sure you’re providing support and answers when you can! You don’t want to assume the role of a Taker in a large group, especially when you have so many other eyeballs watching your actions. People notice Takers, so strive to be a Giver, too.

lesson ten: THE WORST ANYONE CAN SAY IS NO.

I’ve briefly touched on this lesson in Lesson Seven, but I’m giving it its own lesson because I believe in its importance: the worst anyone can say is no.

Are your cover concepts atrocious? Tell your publisher exactly what you want changed—and if that means going back to the drawing board entirely, make that clear. Do you want art you commissioned as the endpapers? A foil stamp? A sensitivity reader who matches a specific background? A Goodreads giveaway? More physical ARCs? Ask, ask, ask. The worst anyone can say is no… but they may say yes. And you may be surprised by the yesses you do get.

If you dream big and aim high, you may receive about 15% of your asks for your debut. There’s a lot that prohibits publishers cost-wise, and they may knock down many of your ideas, but asking is always better than not-asking. Send that email. You never know where it could lead. 15% isn’t a great metric at face value, but when you think about it in terms of adding a 15% value to your book, asking suddenly becomes more important.

Talk to your agent. Start an email with, “Hey, so I had this crazy idea—” and see where it leads. Don’t let yourself be talked out of your big ideas by your family or friends. Just ask, ask, ask. At worst, you’ll be labeled an Asker. This is usually not a bad thing, because it shows your publisher you truly care.

lesson eleven: DEBUT DAY IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT; BE KIND TO YOURSELF.

On my debut day, I cried in the bathroom of the local independent bookstore hosting my launch. Everything was going well: My lovely conversation partner Serena Kaylor arrived early and in full pink glam. Chairs were filling up, and we were on track to be standing-room-only by the time the event started. I’d spent the day visiting bookstores to sign copies alongside my friends who flew in to support my launch; I spent an ungodly amount of time photographing the lovely bookies (book cookies!) I commissioned from the extraordinary Sierra at Novel Cookies. But despite everything, I was, once again, anxious. (Wow. Who could have possibly predicted this?)

Everything turned out phenomenal. It was one of the best days of my life, actually. I felt so loved and supported and seen—by my professors, by my peers, by my friends and family, by my online writing community. But there were definitely low moments within my debut day highlight reel. They didn’t diminish the highs, though, because I prepared for them. I allowed myself the grace to let the high and lows coexist.

Debut day is what you make it; be kind to yourself. Even if you don’t have any events planned on your debut day, I recommend getting out of the house and doing something nice for yourself. You don’t want to spend your whole debut day sitting at home, refreshing socials, trying to see how many Instagram likes you’ve gotten or how many reviews are trickling in. One of my creative writing professors, YA author Angela Velez, went to an art museum on her launch day. Her advice to me prior to debuting was to consciously unplug for the day. I listened, and only went on social media after the whirlwind of debut was over; it felt great to catch up on all the love I’d gotten before going to bed, and I fell asleep knowing I’d actually lived in the moment of launching instead of spending the majority of the day online.

lesson twelve: ONCE IT’S ALL OVER, YOU HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN.

This is the most important lesson. It’s also the hardest one. After all the sparkles and butterflies and heart-emojis of debut day die down, it’s back to you and your blank document. Again.

Get started early, if you can. After the ceaseless promotion of your debut, it’ll feel cathartic to throw yourself full-force into a new world (or the same world, if you’re writing a sequel) and get back to creating. The long, terrifying, arduous process of writing—butt in chair, fingers on keyboard—is where the magic happens. It’s true alchemy. You’re making something out of nothing.

It’ll feel incredibly daunting at first. You’ll kick and scream and complain to anyone who listens that you don’t actually know how to write, that you’re probably not even qualified to be a writer, that the first book was a miraculous fluke (even if you’re written others prior to your debut) and you’ll never be able to pull off writing another one ever again. But you will. You will. And you’ll keep doing it, as long as you let yourself find the magic in the writing itself, as long as you do it again once it’s all over.

Because once it’s all over, you have to do it again.

And while you work on finishing your next book, the whole process—all the swirling anxiety, all the fiery hopes and wispy dreams, all the sparkles and butterflies and heart-eye emojis of launch day—will be waiting for you in the wings.