One day, the French philosopher Denis Diderot came into possession of a beautiful scarlet dressing gown. He spent a long and silent time admiring its splendor.
And the more he analyzed the fabric, the more he understood that all his other possessions paled in comparison to this new dressing gown. This feeling became so uncomfortable that Diderot soon replaced all his furniture with more expensive options. He bought a new golden clock, a bronze sculpture, a console table, and more art pieces.
Crippled by debt, Diderot understood that he had forfeited his soul to an object of worship he couldn’t properly understand, “I was the absolute master of my old robe. I have become the slave of the new one.”
While this story may seem ridiculous, we often find ourselves worshiping whatever feeds our ego.
Many people want to write a book at some point in their lives, and quite a few of them actually manage to punch the damn keys long enough to finish writing a first draft.
Some of them even go through all the steps towards self-publishing their book, from editing to formatting to designing a cover for the book.
However, the vast majority of them won’t even sell 100 copies of their book.
We’re talking about hundreds and hundreds of hours of work, writing, editing, proofreading, doing research, learning about marketing, social media, working towards building an audience on a blog, developing a newsletter…
Here’s the bitter truth: it takes a village to help you self-publish a book.
During the Roman Republic the river Rubicon acted as a sort of frontier line between the Roman province of Cisalpine Gaul to the northeast and Italy proper, controlled directly by Rome, to the south.
In 49 BC, perhaps on January 10, Julius Caesar led a single legion, Legio XIII Gemina, south over the Rubicon from Cisalpine Gaul into Italy. In doing so, he deliberately broke the law limiting his imperium, his authority to control his army.
As he led his army across the Rubicon river into Central Italy, Julius Caesar is credited to having said the following words, “Alea iacta est”.