When Winning Feels Like Losing
When I was in college, taking one of my creative writing classes, a professor asked the class
who wanted their book to be on the Oprah Book Club List. (You get a bestseller and you get a
bestseller!)
Since we were all high-minded, idealistic students aspiring to write the next earth-moving novel
like Hemingway or Fitzgerald or (my personal favorite at the time) Capote, none of us raised our
hands. We considered something as mainstream as the Oprah Book Club as “selling out to the
man.” Yes, in hindsight, I don’t like myself much either.
Our professor had no problems calling us out on our snobbery. “If you don’t want your book to
be on Oprah’s list,” she said, “then you don’t belong in here.” Not surprising, everyone raised
their hand at that point; not because they were opposed to getting kicked out of class, but
because, of course, we wanted that kind of success for our future books.
Since that day, I haven’t had any trouble vocalizing the kind of success that I wish for some day.
I still want my book featured on the Oprah list, though, to account for inflation and changing
times, I actually prefer a place on Reese’s Book Club list, but I would be thrilled with any well-
known actress’s book club. I know that is a bit of a stretch dream. To be more realistic, the goal
I have clung to since Diamonds in Auschwitz was just an idea that was starting to take root in
my mind is seeing the book on the shelves of (fill in your favorite bookstore). In my mind, it was
the Barnes and Noble in Mishawaka, Indiana, the nearest bookstore for me.
That’s why, at first, when I choose my publishing path, winning felt a lot like losing.
I am so excited to be working with Greenleaf Book Group, for many reasons that include more
than the fact that they are excited to work with me. One is the freedom they give me to choose
my best path forward and the respect for me as a writer AND business person to give me
honest advice.
When presented with two proposals from Greenleaf, I barely glanced at the print on demand
(POD) option. I wanted traditional publishing all the way – the warehouse full of MY book, the
Mishawaka Barnes and Noble displaying my book, the Reese’s Book Club featuring my book.
You know, The Dream.
That’s not exactly how it works, though. Despite my creative writing degree, I realize I’m
woefully ignorant about the business aspect of publishing. When faced with the decision of
POD or not to POD, I thought of that creative writing class and my hand in the air, admitting I
wanted The Dream.
I decided to go with print on demand, though. Not because I don’t want The Dream and not
because I’ve given up on Reese picking me. I choose this route because I know I have to earn
The Dream.
With the help of my Greenleaf Fairy Godmother (her official title is ‘consultant’ but that doesn’t
give her due credit for finding me, standing outside the ball with my dress in tatters and
plopping me in a magical pumpkin with a dream come true), I realized that I wanted to skip past
all my dues, all the hard work, all the reputation- and network-building. Getting my book on the
shelves of a behemoth like Barnes and Noble is step 20. With no previously published works or
a name in the industry, I’m on step -3. My fairy godmother kindly (of course kindly, she’s
practically a Disney character) reminded me of that.
First, I grieved The Dream. With POD, my book will never be on the shelves of my local Barnes
and Noble (though it could end up on their website). I’ve come to terms with it. The goal of
Diamonds in Auschwitz is: 1. Telling the story, because I believe it’s an important one to be told.
2. Setting up my next book (or maybe the next book after that) for those B&N shelves, after I’ve
proven myself a little bit.
If that’s the goal of my book, then winning isn’t losing. It’s… winning. And The Dream is still
alive, it’s just in the future, but a bit closer.
