When you feel your worst, look your best: The Authors Collection

look your best

I don’t know when I first heard the expression when you feel your worst, look your best, but I think it is one of the best mantras for Indie authors.

Indie authors.  They are the people who take a book from concept to finished product, enlisting along the way editors, cover artists, book bloggers and who knows what other people to help them.

Indie authors.  They are the folks who endure scathing reviews on Amazon from reviewers who have not read their books but decide to trash them anyway because they are indie.

Indie authors.  They are the people who work two or three jobs, raise families and throw themselves down in a chair in front of a computer at eleven o’clock at night to write another chapter or two in a book, or post a blog, or help another author who has a question about something.

Indie authors.  They are often the people who have written all their lives, working to refine their craft, only to have twenkies in New York by god City tell them that their efforts aren’t good enough.

All these are the reasons why Indie authors should look their best when they feel their worst.

What I mean is that Indie authors can’t be just as good as their fellow writers in the traditional ranks.

They have to be better.

Their writing must be impeccable. Their cover art must grab readers by the throat. Their marketing campaigns must leave no stone unturned in their efforts to reach readers.

No one will give them a massage at the end of a full day of writing. No one will run their traps for them. No one will see to it that if they show up at such and such a time in some major media market, a beautiful person will gush about the book she has never read for six minutes and drive readers the author’s way.

No one.

If an Indie author ever experiences gushing it will be because he played the game better and harder than anyone else.  He looked his best when he felt his worst.  He didn’t give up when even those in his circle of trust told him it was time.  She didn’t chuck it and decide to be like everyone else. She didn’t pack her dreams away until the kids left home.

She sucked it up and kept going, always careful to look her best when she felt her worst, a feeling that came around all too often.

What did she have to show for it?

She knew she had run the race with all she had, her eye on the finish line, her ears deaf to the jeers from the crowd.

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