When I put my first book, Lost Birds, out into the world, there was so much I didn't know about marketing, selling, arranging readings, FB ads, etc, that it made no difference to me. I just blithely stepped off that cliff and hoped for the best. And to my surprise, it sold books and I made new friends and was invited to do readings and word of mouth seemed to build. It was all more than I had expected and I was grateful.

Now that I've launched my new book, The Last Book Smuggler, I know more and that's sometimes a bit of a curse. I know the potholes in the road, the many more ways I could promote the book, the many roads I could have taken but didn't. But all of that is so hard for someone who loves to sit home alone and write, someone who's shy and doesn't like to promote herself, someone who's uneasy in those situations.

I'm sure I'm not the only writer who feels that way, but sometimes it feels that way. The rest of the authors are out there promoting the heck out of their books, while I sit here with a cup of coffee looking out the window and daydreaming.