I'm Proud of My Debut Novel Despite Everything

I released my debut novel, Seeds, a retelling of the Persephone myth told from the POV of both Persephone and her mother, Demeter, through a small press in January of 2025. In the plot, Persephone’s connection with Hades takes a backseat to her fraught relationship with her mother. Right off the bat, this put some people off. As one of my favorite Netgalley reviews, which made me laugh so hard, put it, “…the story focuses on the relationship between mother and daughter and how it affects other relationships so I think that’s where a lot of people seem to be disappointed. They’re expecting cheeks clapping But instead they’re getting maternal abuse.”

That’s not to say reviewers didn’t have different reasons for disliking the book, and that’s not to say a lot of people didn’t end up enjoying Seeds for what it is (I’m damn proud of her 3.77 GR rating), but in my naive new author’s eyes, it looked like the book was off to a shaky start due to unmet reader expectations. Despite this, Seeds was ordered by around 140 bookstores, (no Barnes and Nobles, though). Through the various book distributors and sellers, it racked up a respectable 1,500 preorders. Still, it made no lists. It didn’t even really make a splash. Only a little over 1,800 print books and ebooks were sold altogether in the eleven months it was on the market. I still don’t, and likely never will know, how many copies of the audiobook were purchased. These sales numbers are final. No more copies will be sold because I terminated my agreement with my publisher in December of last year, and Seeds went out of print.

Despite all this, I’m still deeply proud of myself and proud of my book. It took me thirteen years from sending my first query letter to signing the book deal for Seeds and another two to get it out in the world. I accomplished so much in that time.

I connected with other writers and literary professionals who taught me to believe in myself and helped me become a better writer.

I showed my kids what tenacity meant, and I taught them, especially my girls, that it’s okay to unapologetically chase the biggest dream you have.

I learned to introduce myself as a writer and author without qualifiers or embarrassment when people ask what I do for a living.

I found the strength to insist I be treated fairly and taken seriously, something I’ve struggled with all my life.

I met two allies and friends who I know will be my ride-or-dies through anything the publishing industry throws at me.

And at the end of it all, I got a new beginning when I signed with my agent, the lovely Kathleen Foxx at The Rights Factory.

What about the book, though? What did it do?

It brought a new take on an old story into 1,800 people’s lives (and hopefully more since it’s carried in around 170 libraries). Some loved it. Some didn’t. Most fell somewhere in the middle.

It introduced me to a lovely editor and also to the best audiobook narrator an author could ask for, and now they’re both my friends.

It introduced me to a phenomenally talented artist who created gorgeous character art that's part of the header for this post. If you'd like to see more of his work, check out his instagram at arthur_douglaspainter.

Someone liked my book so much, they told my local library they had no intention of returning it but did pay the library so it could purchase a new copy.

It was the top read of 2025 for three strangers who are now my online friends.

It introduced me to two of the most enthusiastic, supportive booksellers at my local indie bookstore, The Well Read Moose.

It provided me the opportunity to throw a kick-ass party to celebrate its entrance into the world. I played Greek myth trivia and ate a book cover cake and drank homemade pomegranate soda with old friends and fellow writers and complete strangers. It was one of the best nights of my life.

It gave my kids the chance to watch their mom shine.

It taught a young woman with a conflicted relationship with her own mother that the burden of what went wrong between them didn’t rest on her.

It turned an entire group of 20-something-year-old ex-Mormon Greek myth enthusiasts from strangers into friends over the course of a couple of hours at one of my book events.

It gave me the opportunity to attend a book club via TikTok live, where, due to some technical malfunction, I couldn’t get my camera to work, so I spoke from behind the face of a blue one-eyed alien avatar. It was the most fun I’ve ever had at a book club.

It was the top-selling fantasy title of 2025 at The Well Read Moose. And in the Moose’s March Madness Battle of the Books, it beat out Alchemised and Quicksilver before being taken out in the semi-final round by Project Hail Mary.

In short, it did what art is supposed to do; it made people feel. It made people think. It helped people connect.

Do I wish it had sold enough to make it an enticing prospect for another publisher to pick up? Of course. Do I wish it had sold enough to make the sale of my next book to a new publisher a sure thing? Yes. I love the taste I got of being a traditionally published author and hope to continue on that path. But what I wish most is that every author out there who is hurting because their book has only sold a few copies, or made no lists, or didn’t sell enough to snag them another book deal, can, even if only for an instant, feel the same deep fierce pride I do for putting something into the world that wasn’t there before.