Ever since I was a child, I have wanted to write a book. When I told my brother last year that I was finally publishing one, he said, “You’ve wanted to write a book for as long as I’ve known you.” (Safe to say, we’ve been acquainted for many years.)
Although my childhood self wasn’t focused on any particular topic, my adult self had a very clear focus: integrating Christian faith with everyday work.
For years, I had struggled to consistently bring the principles of my faith to my corporate work life. I had written periodically about the topic for websites and devotionals. But my book, as I envisioned it, would compile the entire treasure trove of failure stories. It would give a self-deprecating account of how poorly I had lived my faith at work, if only to reassure readers that their performance couldn’t be any worse than mine.
I also approached the book-writing process as someone curious about how books get published. I wasn’t patient enough (or confident enough) to wade through the full-service publisher path, but I wanted more support than I thought I would get by self-publishing. So I chose to work with a hybrid publisher and an independent editor, a combination that promised a fast route to publication alongside opportunities to learn from knowledgeable partners.
When my book was released, I was ecstatic. Something I had wanted since childhood had come to pass. I humbly thanked God for allowing my vision of serving him to become reality.
Now I just needed to entice people to buy the book. I thought that part would be easy. I had spent my career in marketing and communications, helping clients and employers communicate their customer-value propositions. I assumed I could do the same for a book. Never mind that I had no public presence and no connections with a defined reading audience. I was confident I could convince people to buy my God-inspired tome. With a catchy title and a nice cover, how hard could it be?
But I didn’t rest on appearances alone. I did marketing things. I bought advertising. I did podcast interviews. I spoke to groups. I wrote guest columns. I entered contests (and won a couple). I gave books to friends and told them to tell their friends. I checked a lot of boxes. It was exhausting and expensive, but it was worth it to tell the world about my brilliant and life-changing creation.
Over eight months have passed since the book’s launch. How have sales been? In a word, miserable.
When I started the journey, I thought that selling 5,000 copies would be a good goal. Maybe I had that in mind because it’s a nice round number (and 10,000 seemed brazen). The reality has been rather humbling. Instead of aiming for the thousands, I would have to content myself with lower figures—much lower. As in, dozens. As it stands, I’ve given away far more copies than I’ve sold.
On one level, this is not only disappointing but also positively embarrassing. I’m a professional communicator, for crying out loud! I feel as if I have talked about this project nonstop for years. Yet the number of copies I’ve sold might fit in a middle schooler’s backpack. As a human with a fragile ego, I found it discouraging to consider the sheer number of books—other people’s books—that readers buy every week.
But I am more than a worldly being. I’m a spiritual being, too, a child of God, and a growing Christian. And that part of me still rejoices. Here are four reasons why.
First, the book ministered to those who read it. Of course, I think the book is wise, funny, and inspirational. But I recognize I’m probably biased. So I was thrilled when friends told me they enjoyed the copies I offered. Granted, they were obligated to say nice things. (It was a free book, after all!) But I listened carefully to their reactions and was excited when they talked about specific sections that caused them to dig deeper into their own faith.
One friend pushed back on what I had written about the perils of pride, until he heard his priest speak on the topic and recognized the point I was making. Another friend, who is discouraged with the human failures she sees in organized religion, told me, “You almost make me believe in God again.” (Note to self: Follow up on that.)
It was even better when friends of friends—people I didn’t know—told me they got something out of my writing.
I was completely taken aback when a friend told me his men’s group had read the book. He invited me to speak to them one Friday afternoon. As a group we laughed at the (intentionally) funny parts and talked about the challenging parts. But mostly we encouraged one another to keep going. I was humbled when one of the guys, remarking on a passage about my tendency to miss opportunities to share my faith, exclaimed, “That’s me!”
Another highlight was an Amazon review by an individual I didn’t know:
I’ve never come across a book like this and enjoyed it all the way … I appreciate the vulnerability of the author’s writing paired with well-applied scriptural insights to help us … be better true Christians at work. Well done, brother. You made me smile 😊
Writing the book was a pretty solitary activity. As I sat alone at my desk, I vaguely hoped the words I typed would connect with someone. So hearing directly from people who read and resonated with what I wrote was both humbling and empowering. It was reassuring to learn that my writing could shine Jesus’ light and encourage others.
Even if thousands don’t buy the book, maybe it was uniquely meant for the few who did.
Second, I discovered new friends and co-laborers. Writing the book was a solitary activity, but trying to market it absolutely was not. Because I had no mailing list, social media presence, or built-in audience (what the kids these days call a “platform”), I needed to humble myself and ask total strangers to help build all that. In the process, those total strangers became valued partners and more.
Over the course of the book-making and marketing experience, I recall meeting more than 50 new people, from advertising and sales associates to writers’ workshop organizers. I met literary agents, freelance editors, magazine publishers, web developers, and bookstore owners. Perhaps because we had lengthy conversations, I built special relationships with various podcasters.
Perhaps most significantly, I also met fellow writers taking a journey similar to mine, writers who encouraged me much more than I encouraged them. (Unfortunately, the author who assured me that my book would sell much better than his, which he published through an academic press, turned out to be more encouraging than accurate.)
In some cases, my connections amounted to little more than brief email exchanges or short phone conversations. I can think of others who became friends and ministry colleagues. Interactions that might have been merely transactional grew into supportive relationships. Which brings me to the next blessing worth mentioning.
Promoting the book launched the next phase of my life. Because I saw a potential opening for books aimed at marketplace ministries—parachurch organizations serving people who want to better integrate their faith and work—I targeted those groups. If it benefited those organizations, fine, but my motivation was to use them to advance me. God had a different idea.
In one instance, I reached out to an organization called WorkLight, sending essays without any guarantee of them being published. Over time, my involvement expanded to areas beyond writing. Leaders invited me to help guide publication content, plan communications strategy, and advance the ministry. I attended the organization’s national leadership meeting and even did a home stay with a board member, an experience way out of my comfort zone. But it was a true blessing. People who were unknown to me six months ago have become friends and co-travelers on our collective faith journey.
Approaching an organization called Unconventional Business Network bore similar fruit. At first, I mainly intended to find an audience for my book. But my efforts eventually paved the way for other opportunities, like contributing regular devotional articles and speaking at a sponsored event.
Meanwhile, I got serious about using my own social media presence to encourage others. My LinkedIn account now regularly features devotions or faith observations about the workplace.
What I intended as marketing channels God turned into avenues for ministry.
Finally, God used my “failure” to grow my faith. In hindsight, my book adventure started from a place of hubris. On some level, I figured the path would be easy and the finished product would win me esteem, especially because I felt that God had put this project on my heart. That’s one reason why, at least initially, the paltry sales figures came as a gut punch.
I often tell people that because my ego is so important to me, God effectively uses it to get my attention. But rather than feed my ego, he allowed it to be bruised, all so he could open me to new opportunities, change my perspective, and grow my faith. I learned to see the common ground I shared with others in the faith-and-work movement as fruitful in its own right. Connecting with them might not have done much to sell my book, but hopefully it played some small but God-ordained role in advancing his kingdom.
Perhaps most importantly, this adventure has changed how I view myself. After struggling for so long to live out my faith at work, I have become someone who regularly writes and speaks about how my relationship with God forms me for his purpose. Maybe my years of church attendance, Bible studies, and small group participation prepared the way for that journey. But something about the act of writing a book—stepping forward in faith into an endeavor I felt God calling me to pursue—seems to have launched it in earnest.
All of this is far more rewarding than the smug feeling of seeing my BookScan numbers hit triple digits. Perhaps I’ll never sell another book. Perhaps I’ll sell enough to fill a second backpack. But maybe the purpose of the book was teaching me humility, deepening my faith, and making God’s presence more real.
My advice to new authors is to take a step back at the start of your book-writing journey. Ask yourself what you think God is really calling you to, and why. Then be ready for God’s blessing to show up in ways you don’t expect. Maybe your blessing will be huge sales. (In which case, great, I’m not at all jealous. Nope. Not one bit.)
But you may be surprised to find that the blessing comes in the shape of new friends, fresh ways to use God-given talents, and a renewed trust that God will always deliver what’s best for you, even if it wasn’t what your heart had desired.
Who could ask for anything more?
Tom Petersen is the author of Thank God It’s Monday(?): Balancing Work and Faith While Keeping Your Sense of Humor.
