I'm Publishing a Book

Lessons from the writing and publishing journey

I remember when I first verbalized the goal: I was visiting my friend’s house in Nashville three years ago, and we got to talking about a dream of ours that we were not realizing for whatever reason.

I hadn’t written my Modern Love essay yet, but I had written other essays and editorials here and there. There were two books, I told my friend and her husband, that I had in me and that I wanted to write.

As it goes, neither of those became the (first) book I wrote.

I signed a publishing contract for my first book earlier this year. It still feels weird to say; I think twice before introducing myself as a writer. Can I claim that word? Who am I to write a book? I have no MFA and no platform. I can hardly influence my toddler, let alone anyone else. I have a few hundred subscribers on my free Substack (all of whom I appreciate by the way), but I self-deprecatingly imagine that at least some must delete my emails without opening them—“God, her again?”.

Who on earth is going to buy and read a whole book that I wrote?

At first, I didn’t write the book with an audience in mind. I wrote it just to write it. It was not a manuscript I even anticipated completing in its entirety, let alone publish as a book; it sprung forth first from a short essay. Yet as I wrote out the story within me, it morphed into something else.

I’ll share more about the book itself soon—its topic, cover, etc., but for now here are some lessons I learned about the writing and publishing journey:

1. Writers and readers are in relationship

A reader is (hopefully!) enriched by consuming what a writer was depleted by producing. It takes minutes to read what it took hours to write. In the personal essay/memoir genre, the writer leaves themselves excruciatingly vulnerable without knowing to whom, and that sense of shame-tinged exposure only occurs once its out there, published, a story available to whomever stumbles upon it.

And yet it’s not a unilateral relationship. For a writer to hear from a reader that their writing moved them, mattered to them, impacted them in some way, is encouragement. To know that a reader invested their valuable time in the writer’s work is affirmation. These actions by a reader create a cherished reciprocity in the relationship.

It’s why writers want readers to engage—we want to know you, what affected you, and we want you to reflect back to us what’s within you. When someone shares with me that they enjoyed something I wrote, it is a moment of relationship in which I learn that I reached something within you, and that’s a gift a reader and writer both share in.

2. The ROI of writing is impossible to calculate

Despite the lasting impact of a novel (and its own entertainment value), the price of a book is pennies compared to the price of a concert ticket by a music artist or a major sporting event. Its value is not measured societally by the dollar.

I spent, over the course of about five months, hundreds of hours to write my book. I had my nanny stay later some weekdays so I could finish a section. I kept my laptop on my nightstand for those times my eyes would pop open at 4 A.M. and I’d write in the early morning before my baby woke up. How do you make logical or economic sense of that time?

I wrote this book not because it does make sense, but because I believe it leaves something good in the world. Regardless of how many or how few readers will ultimately engage with my work, I’d like to believe that—like anything else I write—those who have felt moved in some way by a thing I wrote will feel that it was beneficial. And so if my pen (or, let’s be honest, my laptop keyboard) is in service of good, that is an ROI that is “worth it.” However, I also say this with the recognition that I have a day job which supports my writing economically, and I think a writer whose craft is their vocation and their job may have a different calculation.

3. Books are a business

Whatever the writer’s perspective, the literary agents and the publishers may love a book but not love the idea of publishing it because they need it to sell. A book, especially for bigger publishers, needs to have a market (made easier if you’re someone with a platform already and if your book is the best thing since sliced bread).

While I was able to land a literary agent, my book was ultimately not considered sellable by some of the bigger names in publishing. Since I had an offer already with a small press, that’s what I ended up going with. It has been a great fit: my editor has more time to dedicate to my book, which allows us to publish it sooner, and I’m really excited because of their mission (they are a Muslim woman-owned nonprofit, so the vast majority of my book’s sales will go towards supporting women’s education).

4. Writing a manuscript is the start, not the end, of the publishing journey

I wrote in spurts in the summer, and then in August while in Big Sur I made the intention to really buckle down and finish the manuscript when I got home. I wrote every single evening in September with a goal word count. By October, I was done.

Except I wasn’t, because that was just the start. I received an offer at the beginning of the year, and after negotiations on the contract, we signed in February. Then came Ramadan, which put a pause on the book, and I just finished working with my editor on the first round of edits. The editing process will continue over the next few months, along with the cover design, and then the pre-order phase. If all goes well, my book should be out by December ‘25 or January ‘26.

Got questions about the pre-publication journey? Drop them below:

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