An indie author’s adventures in putting herself out there, managing expectations, and discovering that success doesn’t always look the way you imagined.
There’s a particular fantasy I suspect many indie authors have about their first book signing. You arrive at the bookstore, where a lovely display of your books awaits. Readers wander over, intrigued by your cover. They ask questions about your characters, your writing process, and what inspired you to write the book. You sign copies, pose for pictures, and perhaps even develop a mild case of writer’s cramp. It’s magical. It’s validating. It’s everything you imagined when you first typed The End.
And then there’s reality.
Welcome to My First Book Signing
On Saturday, November 7, I packed up my author dreams, my bookmarks (complete with tassels I attached myself, thank you very much), and my enthusiasm and headed to Toadstool Bookshop in Keene, New Hampshire for a book signing. I was going to be a real, live author at a real, live bookstore.
Okay, technically, I’d already become a real author when I published Consanguinity. But there’s something about sitting in a bookstore with your name 
on a sign that makes the whole thing feel a little more official. And a lot more terrifying.
Because here’s the question nobody really wants to ask: What if you have a book signing nobody comes? What if you spend all that time preparing, promoting, and imagining the possibilities, only to find yourself sitting at a table surrounded by books that nobody wants to buy? What if you discover that the only person interested in your novel is the person who wrote it?
Well, I got to find out. Sort of.
The Crowd Wasn’t Exactly Breaking Down the Doors
Let me be clear. It wasn’t a complete ghost town. My college roommate came to support me. A lovely woman from my mailing list showed up. A former graduate from my school stopped by, and I gave her a copy of my book. However, my teacher bestie sent me up with a loaf of banana bread for her. I 
think that may have been the real reason. And a teacher acquaintance of my college roommate came, purchased a copy, and mentioned the possibility of having me visit her school for Read Across America.
So, no, I wasn’t sitting there entirely alone, contemplating whether I could build a small fort out of unsold paperbacks. But was it the event I’d imagined? Not exactly. There were no lines of eager readers. No crowds gathering to hear about the mysterious Guardians of Nutfield. No bookstore employees frantically restocking my table because copies were flying off it.
And yes, I was disappointed. I think it’s important to admit that. There’s a strange pressure in the indie author world to turn every experience into a triumphant success story. Every event is an opportunity. Every setback is a lesson. Every disappointment is secretly a blessing in disguise. Sometimes, though, disappointment is just disappointment. And that’s okay. My book signing, was a disappointment.
The Hardest Part Wasn’t the Empty Space
Here’s something you should know about me. I can stand in front of a classroom full of teenagers and teach history without batting an eye. I can handle questions, interruptions, teenage attitudes, and the occasional student who seems personally offended by the existence of the Constitution. But put me 
in a bookstore and ask me to talk about something I created? Suddenly, I’m a bundle of nerves.
Because teaching history is one thing. Sharing a story that came out of your imagination, your heart, and countless hours of your life is something else entirely. Writing a book is personal. Publishing it is vulnerable. And sitting in a bookstore waiting to see whether anyone cares enough to stop by? That’s a whole new level of putting yourself out there.
I’ve already written about what happens when someone reads your book and doesn’t love it. But waiting to find out whether anyone will show up to hear about it is an entirely different kind of vulnerability. I did it anyway.
So Was It a Failure?
If we’re measuring success strictly by the number of books sold that afternoon, my book signing wasn’t exactly a publishing phenomenon. But let’s look at what actually happened. Someone from my mailing list made the effort to come see me. A former student got to see her teacher doing something beyond the classroom. A fellow educator bought my book and opened the possibility of a future school visit. And my college roommate showed up, because sometimes the people who’ve known you forever are the ones who remind you how far you’ve come.
Those things matter. They don’t magically erase the disappointment. I’m not going to pretend they do. But they do change the way I look at the afternoon. Because six months ago, I couldn’t have imagined sitting in a bookstore signing copies of a novel I’d written. And now I’ve done it. Not perfectly. Not spectacularly. But I did it.
The Part Nobody Puts on Instagram
Social media has a funny way of making everyone else’s author journey look effortless. We see the pictures of packed signing tables, stacks of books disappearing, and smiling authors surrounded by enthusiastic readers. We don’t always see the quiet afternoons, the empty chairs, or the authors 
wondering whether they should have promoted their event more.
We also don’t see the drive home when you’re trying to decide whether to feel proud of yourself or crawl under a blanket and eat chocolate. Maybe both. Both is a perfectly reasonable option.
The truth is, building an audience takes time, and even established authors can have disappointing events. One quiet book signing doesn’t tell you whether your book is good, whether your writing career has a future, or whether the next event will be better. It tells you that one particular event didn’t attract the crowd you’d hoped for. That’s all.
Would I Do It Again?
Yes. And that’s probably the most important thing I took away from the experience. I would absolutely do it again. Would I approach the next event differently? Probably. There are always things to learn about promotion, location, timing, and reaching potential readers.
After all, I’ve already learned that getting your book into bookstores involves more than simply writing it. Apparently, actually showing up at one with a stack of books is another adventure entirely.
Would I still be nervous? Without question. Would I still secretly hope for a line of readers waiting to have their books signed? You bet your bookmarks I would. But I also know something now that I didn’t know before: I can do this. I can show up. I can sit at that table. I can talk about my book. I can survive an afternoon that doesn’t go according to plan, and I can leave knowing that I did something that once seemed impossible.
I’m not trying to sound like a Pollyanna or anything, but I did something that terrified me. I put myself out there in a way I never had before. There will never ever be a first book signing for me again, because I did it.
So, What If You Hosted a Book Signing and Nobody Came?
First, you might be disappointed. You might question your marketing, your expectations, or your decision to put yourself out there in the first place. You might even wonder whether the whole thing was worth the effort. But then, I hope you’ll remember something. You wrote a book. You finished it. You published it. And you were brave enough to show up at a bookstore and tell the world that your story exists.
That’s not nothing. That’s actually pretty extraordinary.
As for me, I’ll keep writing, keep promoting, keep showing up, and keep hoping that somewhere out there, another reader is about to discover Nutfield and the four teenagers whose lives are about to change forever. And the next time I sit down at a book signing table, I’ll bring my books, my bookmarks, and my optimism.
Maybe some chocolate, too. Just in case.
Have you ever attended, hosted, or participated in an event that didn’t quite go the way you imagined? I’d love to hear about it in the comments, because sometimes the best stories come from the moments that didn’t go according to plan.
