I wasn’t an adult. I wasn’t accomplished. I sure as hell wasn’t a novelist. I was 11, skinny and afraid, standing in front of my sixth grade class, asking if anyone liked me. Anyone? Anyone at all?
Being a debut author is already tough enough, with the emergence from obscurity and the exhausting promotional events that go with it. But what about facing the daunting task of promoting their book to a virtually empty room? Over at Lit Hub, Matthew Norman reflects on the horrifying experience.
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