Always a Sibling 1 year later
Love from readers, discomfort with promotion, and a wish for the future.
Tomorrow marks one year since Always a Sibling was published. It feels both shorter and longer, as these things often do. And as hard as it was to write a book, and to deeply research and interrogate the worst thing that has ever happened to me and my family, in many ways this year has felt harder.
When I’m researching, I become immersed in the stories. Fueled by the experiences of the surviving siblings I surveyed and interviewed, their words running through my head like a soundtrack to my own adventure. I didn’t think of sales or promotion, only doing right by them; doing right by Ben. The idea of getting his own words into a book, something he dreamed of doing himself, bolstered me. It was a safe space where I could disappear to swim in a sea of raw emotion and start to connect the dots between seemingly disparate experiences of sibling-hood and sibling loss.
Once the work of creating the book was complete, I was left spinning. A week after the book came out I found myself bawling while my husband drove me around LA, unable to breath through the sobs. I don’t remember the last time I had cried that hard (which is saying a lot, I’m a crier). It was catharsis, for sure, but it was also a feeling of abandonment. Now that the book was out in the world, what did I have left? I’d been working on it for years and now it was just - done? I wonder if this is how I’ll feel as an empty nester, but thankfully I have years before I’ll have to face that one.
The work of selling and promoting a book, as it turns out, is FAR outside my comfort zone. I’ve found myself in countless conversations where sibling loss comes up and yet I can’t even bring myself to mention the book because I’m afraid it sounds like I’m capitalizing on a tragedy. Nothing makes me turn into an awkward puddle faster than asking me to talk about my book.
I know, with every fiber of my being, that this book can help so many; why can’t I just say that?
Why can’t I scream it from the rooftops?
What is stopping me from promoting this book until I lose my breath?
I am stopping me, of course. I’m the one getting in my own way. Isn’t that how it always goes? We are our own worst enemy.
I am committed to getting out of my comfort zone and continuing to help Always a Sibling find its home because of YOU, dear reader. Because if the messages you’ve sent me this year, the messages that have reminded me that Ben and I can make a difference; that our stories can heal.
Thank you all for coming on this wild ride with me. I hope this book has helped you in some small way. If it has; will you tell me about it? Comment, message, email, snail mail, pigeon carrier - I don’t care, I’ll read it all. Those experiences will help push me to ensure Always a Sibling finds even more readers who need its message. And hey - if you know if an event or organization that could benefit from a partnership, please don’t hesitate to reach out. We built this together, and we’ll keep it alive together too.
Always,
Annie
Your book has been fundamental in validating my own grief after losing my only sibling, providing perspective, language, and data around the nuanced layers that impact the grief of surviving siblings. It has been a game changer, a breath of fresh air at a time when I couldn’t catch mine. I recommend it far and wide to anyone who has experienced sibling loss. I’m grateful we connected. Thank you for being you.
I love your book so much! I’m grateful you wrote it because you are the perfect person to do so. It has and will continue to help so many.