Am I An Author?

Most of you reading this are now going to think I’ve started to ask myself some really stupid questions. Of course, Jean, you are an author. You have two books in print! You’ve been writing all your life so what the hell are you thinking now?!?

Yes, I am a writer. A very good one. I never ask myself that. For me, though, “Am I an author?” is a very different question. And for me, it all boils down to this: if no one reads what you write, can you call yourself an author?

I self-published my first book, “Dear Judith,” in 2007. Self-publishing meant something very different in those days. For the most part, people turned up their noses at the very phrase. Self-publishing was for writers who couldn’t get published. Mostly, these were people writing their own memoirs, or other passion projects, who weren’t “good enough” to attract a mainstream publisher. People without agents. People who thought they were going to take the world by storm just by getting listed on Amazon.

I read several self-published memoirs. They were HORRIBLE. No grammar, no punctuation, no prose development, no sense of length, organization or style. One of those “authors” wanted to publish my book, and attempted to edit me. While I normally have tons of faith in my grammar and usage, for Dear Judith, I’d bought the huge official Bible of the industry, The Chicago Manual of Style. It’s sitting in my bedroom bookcase right now. This person, who probably had never heard of it, was correcting my grammar. Holy hell.

I corresponded with one mainstream publisher for a month or two, and then she ghosted me. (Although no one said that back then.) I’m only inserting this here as an example of how to use a period in combination with parentheses, which was something I had to learn from that Bible I mentioned. Everyone who dozed off during this paragraph can wake back up now.

Yes, I sold on Amazon for a while. I sold somewhere around 40 copies, mostly to friends and family, but some sexual abuse survivors found me on their own. I’ve kept every records of every sale. I was doing my own order fulfillment, and it was a lot of work. I’d never planned for Dear Judith to be an income project. It was just a story that needed to be told, and I was a writer, and I knew how to tell it. But was I an author?

Somewhere around 2010, I answered that question with a “No.” I stopped paying Amazon (although they never took down the listing) and decided I was done with trying to be an author.

And I swore I would never, EVER, write another book.

I wrote my second book, “Heavy Metal,” throughout 2014 and 2015, during the years I was my mother’s caretaker. It was the only way I could survive those horrible years. I still look at the book and marvel that something so beautiful came out of so much pain. It was my story, not Judith’s, and I don’t know whether it needed to be told or not. I only know that the words kept coming, regardless. At that time, I thought of it just as a money-maker for Awakenings. We created a book event, and we sold about twenty copies, I think, and a few more from our library.

Now was I an author?

In 2020, at the height of the pandemic, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. As part of my healing from that trauma, I wrote a memoir of my life during and immediately after cancer treatment. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, but this time around, I reversed myself and hired an editor. I contacted an old friend, another writer, whose work I supported and whose writing I admired. I asked him to take a look at it.

He was blown away. And he persuaded me that with social media, there was an entire new audience out there who should be reading what I wrote. I let him persuade me to step back into publishing, 2020’s style.

So now am I an author?

I still don’t have an answer. My books are again available on Amazon, and through my book page. I have a team of people working with me now. Again, I’m not looking for income. All book revenues go directly to the Project 42 Podcast. We’ve sold somewhere between 50 and 60 copies, if you count both books, which I do. I don’t like selling on Amazon. People buy the book, read it, then sell it back, and I receive no income when that happens. Please, if you are interested in my books, go to jeancozier.com, where you can buy both, if you so desire.

I find myself wrestling with some of the same issues I had when I first published. Selling books has not gotten easier. Everyone goes first to Amazon, and they make things very difficult for authors. I don’t know how anyone can even think of self-publishing on their own any more. It takes a team – maybe a village – and even then it’s very, very hard. You need time, and money. Lots of both.

How many people have to read what you write before you can call yourself an author? 100? 1000? Do you have to go viral? I have learned, to my sadness, that just because someone “likes” you or your words on social media doesn’t mean they buy your books. And it doesn’t mean they will support a podcast. I’m not sure what it does mean, but I don’t think it makes me an author.

There are days when I think I’ve spent all my life explaining to people who I am, what I do, and what I write. I’m tired of it. I write all the time. In my world, a thoughtful, well-crafted email IS writing. Texting is writing, because I proof and correct all my texts. I use capital letters and punctuation. I write grant requests, proposals, guidelines, and grant reviews. I write posts for my newsletter and for blogs – my own, and for other organizations who work toward building awareness around the issue of childhood sexual abuse.

Yes, I’m a writer. A VERY good one. But I still don’t know if I’m an author.