How To Be Thankful

Darling,

The indie publishing world was one of my most exciting 2024 explorations.

Early in the year, I wrote a novella and then a novel, having been bitten by a particularly venomous muse. I consulted friends and experts about what to do with them. I considered the traditional route, and I examined the independent one. And, true to my astrology (separate post) I picked the path that offered the most room to experiment.

In the wake of Ash and the Butterfly’s release this past week (do go read it, it was engineered to delight, amuse, and arouse you), I’m thinking about all the many people involved in a project that looks solo from the outside.

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States so I thought I’d lean into the best spirit of the day and use my little sparkling platform to express thanks.

To my novelist friends, who advised me on process.

And the friend who works at a publishing house who walked me through how they “make a bestseller.” (As a side note, I’m ever reminded of my own naïveté when I hear about how bestsellers and viral moments are made by professionals whose finesse fools us into believing them organic.)

There’s Meg Kelly—I found her on instagram—who handled ARCs, made gorgeous graphics, created my website, and demystified many a detail of the self-publishing world.

My beloved, who invited me to read the same scenes aloud several times during the rewriting process.

My cover designer, Vanessa Mendozzi—the covers speak for themselves, no?

The astrologer who supplied auspicious release dates.

Scrivener, which kept me so much more organized than Word ever could.

My mother, whose complaints about the romance series she was bingeing influenced a plot choice or three.

My friends in the group chat, who cheered me on as I reported from the deep woods.

And the terribly pretentious cafe a perfect 35 minutes from my little cottage, which serves the platonic ideal of a rosewater vanilla latte. Rosewater is a magical substance that draws love closer, as you are probably aware.

And all my many advance readers. The ones who posted glowing reviews. The gorgeous handful who reached out via private message to tell me they’d become fans (did I shed a tiny tear? No: I ugly cried, darling). The one who wrote a rave and then gave the book 2 stars, reminding me that taking stars and reviews to heart is a bit silly—reviews are for readers! We authors are best served by shutting our browsers and starting the next book.

And you. Especially if you bought the book. But either way. But if you haven’t, why not buy the book? It slides down like a warm, buttery, aphrodisiac treat.

All my gratitude, darling!

LMxx