I published a bestseller at 25 – but my obsession with progress prevented me from enjoying the milestone

When I self-published my second book, Life Between Moments: New York Stories, in August, it was like I’d gulped down a momentary cocktail of positive emotions: excitement, relief, pride, happiness.

That wave continued when the book reached a #1 bestseller ranking on Amazon. Not only did I finally get a glimpse from the top of the mountain I worked so hard to climb, but others noticed and appreciated my work, too.

The elation didn’t last.

Five months later and I’ve realized my obsession with progress and forward momentum deprived me of enjoying the view from the summit. During a moment I should’ve had my eyes wide open and my feet glued where I stood, my instinct to constantly move forward blinded me, even as Life Between Moments became a bestseller.

I never want that to happen again.

In a November blog post, I noted I felt little had changed in my life in the months since my book published. While I wasn’t under the illusion that any one milestone would allow me to decamp in a dramatic way from my previous lot, I had anticipated some change to transpire.

Happiness of course is a fleeting thing. But for a writer, having your book top a bestseller list can be a career-defining moment. At the least, it should’ve been ego-molding to some degree. But beyond some social media applause, banter around the water cooler, and a few extra bucks, the personal impact of penning a bestseller has been muted.

Milestones are meant to show you how far you have come. They are markers of progress that, ideally, grant you pause and room to breathe and a pat on the back. I see now the folly in letting the notion of “next” cloud what’s right in front of you.

To be sure, I remain incredibly proud of the book, and still love to see positive reviews roll in on Amazon and Goodreads (every single one helps tremendously). It makes my day hearing from readers who enjoy and appreciate the work.

But the lesson here lies not in the success of a book, but the release of a bestseller that went unnoticed by its author.

Now I’m struggling to begin again

I write this now not because I harbor regret or anguish, but because I’m uncertain what my next project is, even though this indeterminate future thing is what had pulled me from savoring my achievement in August.

I write regularly on this site and publish stories daily for my work as a journalist, but for the first time in years I don’t have a game plan for my personal writing. It’s the first time since 2018 that I’m not working on a book.

My motor and enthusiasm to work on something is robust as ever, but I find myself uncertain of how to channel that vigor. That uncertainty leads me to wonder: What does someone who always has a strategy do when their foresight meets its limit?

I’m not one to fret the future, but not having a plan has left me feeling like a compass-less captain, floating and keeping the ship’s coals hot but idling nonetheless.

Still, in these quieter months I’ve cemented one thing: I will not let my next book go by without my noticing.

Complement this reading with an article on how I was able to write two books without taking time off work, Zadie Smith’s quintessential rules for writers, and how to master mindfulness like Sherlock Holmes.

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