T.L. Simpson's Blog

Nothing changed when I finally opened the box of books that arrived on my front step on Valentine’s Day.

I’d been waiting for this box with bated breath for weeks. And when it arrived, I put it on the counter, forgot about it, and went about arranging the flowers I’d bought for my wife to celebrate the holiday.

I wasn’t going to open that thing until my kids were home.

This box contained the author copies of my debut YA novel, “Strong Like You.” My publisher shipped me 15 of them. The book isn’t out until March 12.

I’ve wanted to write since I was in elementary school. I’ve wanted to publish books since high school. And I got serious about it in 2017, churning out 13 manuscripts before finally getting a foot in the door.

It’s been wild.

And it’s been fun.

And I am grateful and excited.

But opening the books in my living room with my family sitting around me, I was amazed at how normal it felt. There’d been all this buildup. I’ve seen other authors cry in their unboxing videos. I opened the books, marveled at the cover, flipped through the pages, reread the blurbs and sniffed the binding. (yes, I'm a book smaller)

I signed a copy for each of my kids and handed them out. It was fantastic. But it was all extremely normal.

I felt a little cheated – not by the moment, but by myself.

This should matter more to me. I’ve worked so hard for it!

But the goalposts have shifted. When I started, the goal was to write for a living. I started doing that in 2012 at the newspaper. Then it was to get an agent, which happened in 2020. Then it was to get a book deal, which happened two years later. Now, my mind is on bigger things. More books. Awards. Bigger deals. And making enough money to write books for a living.

I have this innate and intense fire, fueled, it seems, by jet engine fuel, to keep going. To build and build and build.

Someone told me to enjoy all the little moments on this writing journey.

And I do enjoy them.

But I refuse to feel bad about goalpost shifting either.

Bob Dylan summed it up perfectly in the documentary, “No Direction Home.”

“An artist has got to be careful never really to arrive at a place where he thinks he’s at somewhere,” he said. “You always have to realize that you’re constantly in a state of becoming. And, as long as you can stay in that realm, you’ll sort of be alright.”

Dylan, a mercurial performer who refused to be hemmed into a singular style of music, knew a lot about this. He could have lived out all his days as “the voice of a generation,” known forever as possibly the greatest American folk musician to have ever lived.

But rock and roll beckoned.

Dylan wanted more. He wanted to build. Most of all – he never wanted to stop.

That’s where all artists should live.

Opening a box of books in my den with my family gathered around was a beautiful moment – one I am filled with gratitude to have experienced.

But it is only among the first stones of many on the road to wherever I’m going.

When you sit down to write a book, it’s often said you should have your ideal reader in mind. You want to think about the person who will love your book the most, who needs your book the most ... and write for them.

My problem is this: My ideal reader doesn’t typically read books.

“Strong Like You” follows an impoverished football player searching for his missing father across the hills of the Ozarks. Along the way, he learns the meaning of true strength – and it’s not what he was raised to believe.

True strength, as it turns out, is vulnerability.

This is a dire lesson young men need to learn. Did you know around 132 men die by suicide per day? Did you know men account for around 70 percent of all suicide deaths? Did you know 93.3 percent of our prison population are men? Did you know ninety percent of people who commit violent physical assault are men and account for 95 percent of all domestic violence?

I refuse to believe men are inherently violent, inherently worse, inherently problematic.

And yet.

Under the current system, the current way we are doing things – we are.

We’ve gotta change something.

If you ask me, it starts with empathy. And studies have shown reading increases empathy. We have to find a way to raise a generation of boys and men who are eager to read, not just stories about themselves ... but all types of stories.

At the same time ... we need stories that can get them in the door.

That is what I hope “Strong Like You” can be. A gateway drug to literature, so to speak.

I don’t know if you’ve walked down to the YA section at your local library or the bookstore, but those books typically are not marketed toward the type of kid I think can get the most out of my story.

This is not a critique of YA at large. The YA section is full of wonderful stories and books. And if it is marketed largely to young women, it is likely with very good reason. I believe it is assumed boys who read will skip ahead to the science fiction section, horror section or other adult book section.

And besides that, YA is one of maybe two sections marketed toward women, the other being romance. So men have the entire rest of the bookstore, so to speak. Books exist at least in part to make money. And if a particular type of person isn’t showing up to the table then the logical question to ask is: who is gonna buy the book?

A good question. It’s one I’ve been mulling over a lot lately.

Don’t get me wrong.

I think anyone can get something good from “Strong Like You.” But there is a particular type of kid who I think needs Walker Lauderdale in their life.

We’ve all read books about rural folks dealing with struggle. I’ve loved many of those books. But sometimes I think some of those books are for others to marvel at us southerners, to say to themselves, “I can’t believe people live like this.”

But “Strong Like You” is for the kid who grew up in it, the kid who is living it right now. When we are young, our communities can feel insular. They can make you think the whole world is like the one you’ve experienced. But it’s not.

I want to be the stepping stone into the wider world of literature for these kids.

But first ...

I have to get the book into their hands.

And that’s the tough part.

This is where you...if you're still reading...can help me out. You gotta tell a kid about this book. Buy it for them. Get it in their hands somehow.

Pre-orders for STRONG LIKE YOU are eligible to receive a free bookmark, bookplate and sticker. Bookplates can be personalized.

All you gotta do is click the following link and fill out the Google form.

LINK: https://tlsimpson.net/927-2/

To qualify you must show proof of purchase. This campaign is open internationally and only while supplies last!