Whenever a new book drops, my dad buys about a dozen of them to either resell or give away. And you’ll find them all over his house–original covers, new covers, etc. He got ’em. The support is there. Thank you, Daddy.
But he said something a couple of times that I didn’t think I took seriously. He asked me when I was going to write a real book. I asked him what that was, although I kind of knew, and he basically explained that I should write something along the lines of the books that he like to read. None of that entertaining stuff, just the facts.
I tried explaining that my books were real books. I wasn’t on the brink of tears or anything, but I wanted to try to make him understand. I thought he did, but then he turned around and suggested it again about a year later. I was sitting on the counter while he fried shrimp and we must’ve been talking about what I was working on. He said, “You should write a serious book one day.”
“The day you get a serious job, I’ll write a serious book,” I joked.
“I got a serious job. It pays me, don’t it?”
“And people buy and read my books, don’t they?”
We laughed about it and moved on, and I really didn’t think it affected me at all until asking if I should pitch my book to the Diaspora Marketplace here in Savannah. It’s a tiny store, but whenever I go, I spend a minimum of 20 minutes in there. It’s full of spiritual and historical goodies, and I made a mental note that as soon as I wrote the right kinda book, it was going in there.
I didn’t even think about the connection to what my dad said at that time. I just figured my current publishings didn’t fit in. Not too long ago, I designated a day to pitch my books to some of my favorite local shops in the city. When I originally wanted my books in there, I only had fiction titles. This time, I had Women Who Ain’t Afraid. It still didn’t feel serious enough though, then it hit me.
The books in the store are the exact type of books my dad loves. I could buy one of each, box ’em up and send ’em to him, and he’d finish them all in a month. Mine would stand out. The cover was hella more bold, yeah, but the content was also far more unconventional. What the Devil Meant for Bad includes sex, prostitutes, time in jail, side chicks, etc. Women Who Ain’t Afraid talks about cursing when communicating with God.
How would it fit next to books about Babylon, ancient Egypt, and the NAACP? When I stopped judging my work, it made perfect sense, so I pitched it to the store owner. He had some questions, but after I answered them, my books went right up on the shelf.
Sometimes support looks like my dad. They’re proud as hell of you, but have a few personal reservations of their own. Note: Those reservations are personal. It’s an opinion and can only be imposed if you let it. Even if you consider their suggestions, don’t let them define, redirect, or restrict you. And this also goes back to my last post about letting step two block you from step one. I was worrying about being rejected before I even asked.
Can you relate?