It’s hard to believe, but an entire month has passed since I released A History of Holding!
My poetry book now lives in over 120 homes, across 28 states and 5 countries. I want to say these numbers are far beyond what I expected, but I don’t think I really let myself “expect” anything. Regardless, every time I try to picture it—these little blue books sitting on nightstands, tucked into bags, resting on coffee tables—my whole body hums.
In some ways, this past month felt a lot like any other. I still moved through the rhythms of my everyday life: volunteering in my son’s class, tucking fig bars into his backpack, losing staring contests with piles of laundry. But also—my inbox filled with order forms. My dining table turned into a little shipping station. And the same car that usually drives us to the grocery store suddenly carried me to the shops that now hold my book (!!) on their shelves.
Today I’m sharing some of the lessons, surprises, and highs of my first month as a published author.
I thought the most vulnerable part would be pressing PUBLISH, but the real vulnerability came afterward: the waiting, the wondering. Do people like it? Are they connecting with it? Just because someone bought the book doesn’t mean they’ll feel anything—and being moved by it is the important part…right?
(This phase was both electric and terrifying.)
But soon the messages came through and the reviews rolled in, each one bringing a burst of warmth to my chest. I wrote this book to help others feel less alone, but I found that it went both ways. When someone said one of my poems made them feel seen, I, myself, felt seen. I hadn’t expected the tenderness of this exchange, and it’s been really beautiful.
Another highlight was the launch party I had with my friends and family—a sweet little evening at my house to celebrate this creative milestone. I’d considered hosting a public launch party somewhere, but when it came down to it, I wanted a celebration that would hold me, not ask more of me.
Hearing my husband toast the book and watching my loved ones flip through the pages helped me recognize that I’d really done it. You can read more on Heidi Fiedler’s substack, The Nebula Notebook, where I wrote about celebrating your creative wins.
I’ve learned that marketing is much less fun than writing, and I’m not really the type who can do both at once. So for now, I’m letting myself lean into sharing this book and finding my readers.
Originally, I planned to spend a few quiet months focused on online sales before moving toward in-person stores. I wanted room to breathe after the marathon of finalizing the book. But my ADHD brain saw shiny opportunities and sprinted straight to them. I ended up pitching shops almost immediately.
From everything I’d read, I expected a long string of no’s before even one yes. Instead, I got two early yes’s (woohoo!), followed by two no’s, and two that I have not heard back from yet. Of the six places I pitched, half were boutiques and half were indie bookstores. And incredibly, A History of Holding is now available at Golden Hour Goods in Ventura and The Bookworm in Camarillo.
I’ve already sold a few copies at Golden Hour Goods (in fact, the first copy sold before I’d even left the shop)! The idea that a stranger could wander in, pick up my book, and decide to bring it home? That still feels unreal.
Somehow, despite all the planning in the world, I still ran into logistical issues with my launch. I received an influx of orders for signed copies right before my launch, which meant I did not have enough books on hand to fulfill every order right away. I purchased my signed-copy editions from Mixam (the highest-quality printer I’d found), and it took almost two weeks to receive the next shipment. The people pleaser in me hated not being able to ship these out right away.
Another surprise was just how time-consuming and expensive it was to sign and ship orders. Each packaged book included a custom sticker, bookmark, plastic envelope to protect the book, gold wax seal, bubble polymailer, and shipping labels. By the time all was said and done, I spent about $7 on materials and postage per book. Still totally worth it, in my opinion. There are cheaper options, of course (ahem, Amazon), but I loved sending out the highest-quality book, infused with special touches directly from me. I wanted opening my book to be the highlight of someone’s day.
I braced for an emotional crash after launch, the kind so many people warn you about. But instead, I felt a physical one. I’d been running on adrenaline for weeks—late nights, loose ends, all the tiny details that are involved in printing and distribution. When my body realized it was finally allowed to rest, it went even further: it shut down. There were nights I slept twelve hours, something I haven’t done in years.
Emotionally, though, I didn’t feel a true comedown. The initial excitement was bright and buoyant; now it’s softened into something quieter, steadier. I’m beginning to think about what comes next—not in a hustling way, but in a what might this allow me to build? kind of way.
I thought publishing a book would feel like an ending, but it feels more like a beginning. Here’s whats on my mind:
Creating a detailed book club guide to help readers reflect on these poems in community. My hope is that this book can serve as a portal for deeper connection.
Donating books to the people and places that help mothers, such as postpartum professionals, doulas, and therapists. (If that’s you, please message me.)
Planning author events, workshops, and gatherings. I currently have a few in-person and online offerings planned for January and February. Stay tuned for details.
Whether you bought the book, told a friend, shared a photo, or simply cheered me on, you’ve helped carry this collection farther than I ever could have on my own. I’m so grateful you’re here.
If you’d like to celebrate with me, let me know in the comments if you have a copy and where you’re reading from. And if you’ve read A History of Holding already, it would mean so much if you left a review on Amazon or Goodreads. :)
If you have an idea for a gathering you’d like me to host, or a shop that would like my book, please reach out. I’d love to hear from you.

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