Facing Self-Publishing Doubt: What if I Fail?
What happens when we confront the parts of ourselves we hide from the world? On May 30, I am taking a leap into the unknown with the release of my Jungian-inspired poetry chapbook, Shadow's Reprieve. Featuring 15 raw, carefully crafted poems, this collection is an intimate exploration of the Persona, Shadow, and Self. This chapbook serves as an exclusive preview of my upcoming full-length book arriving in December 2026. Join me as I step beyond the familiar waters of Medium and Vocal into a wider playing field, honoring the inner calling of art for art's sake—and everything after.
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| Image by cristinaureta from Pixabay- Edited by Marilyn Glover with Canva |
With only days away from my Jungian-inspired poetry chapbook release, fear is starting to set in. As much as my art brings me joy, I am facing self-publishing doubt: What if I fail?
May 30 is right around the corner. Perhaps heightened nerves are normal. Maybe I am overthinking things too much and should just sit back and relax; easier said than done. I've dedicated a lot of time and energy to my project; it's hard to imagine putting in all that effort for nothing.
NOTHING is exactly what I'm afraid of, that nothing will come of my art except art for the sake of it.
Art for art's sake, yes, I believe in this concept, but I also want to see my passion yield rewards; money.
"I contemplate the hows, the whens, the wheres, and the whys without any clear answers, yet the what always replies clear as day, responding in the little inclings, the hunches that never let go."
Of course, I have my dreams, and I try with all my might to hold onto them, but what if my attempts turn on me, leaving me with nothing more than poetry published into a void? What do I do then? Do I pat myself on the back for seeing it all through, or do I throw in the towel and leave poetry for the well-established, highly acclaimed, and historically noted?
Yes, I am riddled with doubt, and might I say that I am quite disappointed in myself. I've been writing online for six years now; I know about thick skin. I know about competition. I know about how ruthless this industry can be. Still, by now I would have thought I'd know better. I guess everything becomes much heavier once a projected date draws nearer and reality is mere days away.
On May 30, I will release Shadow's Reprieve, a Jungian-themed chapbook consisting of 15 poems exploring the archetypes: Persona, Shadow, and Self. This is the preview of the full-length book, which will be released in December 2026.
In my efforts to get eyes on my art, I've been offering free poetry giveaways on Gumroad. While I've had a decent amount of views, 130, no one has downloaded my free poems. I am uncertain as to exactly what this means for the long haul, but for the moment, it's mighty discouraging.
I've spent six years building an online writing presence and have had multiple successes in winning contests and having my poetry and stories curated as top features, yet, beyond the likes of Vocal Media and Medium, readers don't know me.
Now, I am taking the deep dive and putting my poetry out into a wider playing field, one that is brutal and filled with many aspiring writers.
Still, I feel compelled to proceed, to navigate the unknown with nothing more than prayers and dreams.
Might I be silly trying to make a go of it as a poet at 54? Might I be better off simply sticking to my tried and true platforms? Might I be better off quitting while I'm ahead?
I've considered all of the previous points and pondered how many hours I am wasting with freestyle poetry based on the theories of a man I dare not compare myself to, but feel a deep resonance with. I contemplate the hows, the whens, the wheres, and the whys without any clear answers, yet the what always replies clear as day, responding in the little inclings, the hunches that never let go.
The WHAT, my art, my poetry, feels like a second breath, so I continue.
Perhaps my chapbook will sit in digital aisles left unread. Perchance, my full-length book will only land in the pitying hands of a few family members. True, these thoughts scare me, but the scarier rumination is leaving words unsaid, just floating in my head.
So, if all that I leave behind with my poetry is a legacy for my grandchildren—without earning a single dime—at least they will have the poetic diary of a woman who published her art wholeheartedly.
Publishing despite the odds simply because she felt an inner calling.
Money, no money; who knows.
Art for art's sake? It's too soon to say, but if it is then at least I tried, made an effort, listened to the little voice inside my head.
The show must go on wherever it may lead...
This one is dedicated to all you artists and all the doubts and fears you carry. May you carry on with your skills and create despite money prospects, competition, and pushback from the less-than-supportive.
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