When I published my educational yoga books for kids and teachers through my company (Birdland Media Works) more than a decade ago, I repeatedly heard, “Hmm … I was always told you weren’t considered a ‘real’ writer if you self-published vs. going through a traditional press.” To which I replied, “I don’t care if people consider me a ‘real’ writer or not, as long as they buy and enjoy my books.”
By then, I had already been a freelance writer for years and had validation that people liked my work enough to pay me to do it. But soon after, and again when I published my newest sci-fi series, The Data Collectors, I let a little doubt creep in. Whether it was a poor review, low sales one month, or that look that people give you when you tell them you’re a novelist (not unlike the look they give me when I tell them I’m a life coach or the one they gave me when I was a yoga teacher), it all hit me the same way. I’d wither under that look that suggested, “Oh, you’re a writer. Isn’t that cute? When are you going to get a ‘real’ job?”
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