When I first picked up the pen to write, it seemed more like a conscious choice than a task. It was a calling and a compulsion, a need to communicate, and an impulse to notice and recognize what was happening within me. The devotional poetry collection in my notebooks had been collecting dust for years, on pieces of paper, in the margins of other books, and as stories scattered throughout my laptop—the journey from a solitary dream to the public reality of Beauty In The Branches. The reality was anything but quiet. It was a crash course in social, a deeply vulnerable part of me now shared and exposed to the world. A testament to the power of my words and my voice, which I once was so scared to publicize.

I’ve always adored the traditional image of a writer, probably hunched over a tiny dusty desk, in a room full of leather-bound books, and a warm glow from a lamp. Although my reality did not match my imagination. It was writing sessions squeezed into the corners of my life, finding those quiet moments in a busy day to pour out my feelings. It was all calculated chaos every day till I completed my first poetry book. Lo and behold, somehow, I got through the writing process, but one daunting challenge still awaited me: publishing.

The traditional route for publishing is definitely not an easy one; it was like a towering mountain, and mind you, I had to climb with what felt like 10 kg of weight on each of my limbs. It felt astonishing to me how all of my fellow writers described it as an easy process and talked about the many ways that it worked out for them. But for me, I wanted to keep my intimacy with my book sacred, a steward of my own creation. So, talking to multiple agents and going through an excruciating process of each technicality was rough enough on its own. Which is why I chose to self-publish.

And let me tell you, self-publishing has its pros and cons. A beautiful yet brutal duality. On one end, it's an incredible power move. You are the master of your own creation; it's controlled and chaotic. You have to figure out each detail, from editing and designing to marketing and even down to the type of paper your book will be printed on. But that’s the “beauty” of it. The authority, the artistic liberty, and the tremendous sense of accomplishment when you hold the completed book in your hands and realize that you and you alone are responsible for its completion. The authorship is pure and unadulterated.

However, we can’t forget the “brutal” part of it all. It's the solitude of very lonely nights of juggling between sleep and understanding the complex art of formatting. The immensely steep curve of digital marketing, which is constantly changing by the minute, by the way. Not to mention, the awkward process of blowing your own horn to promote your book. And after you’ve conquered all of these things, the daunting process of publishing your deepest part of imagination to the world is the most brutal part. But I have realized that this is part of being an artist. For me, personally, it is my healing through faith poetry that keeps me motivated to put my best foot forward. The emotionally and physically challenging duality of a business, because, believe it or not, publishing a book is a business.

I still recall the day Beauty In The Branches was formally launched. There was no signing tour or big press event. It was a simple, nervous click of a button on my laptop. I took a deep breath, thinking my words might just vanish into thin air like thousands of other books. And looking at the first few months, I might’ve just believed in that reality. But over time, every sale, click, share, and encouraging message from readers worldwide kept me going like water to a dying plant. Fortunately, my book survived the vast digital void. These modest successes and relationships served as evidence that my work was being appreciated and winning people over.

And far from my imagination, something incredible happened. Something that is only for the history books, a story so unbelievable it's worth sharing with my grandchildren. A letter arrived. An official letter. From the outset, I'll admit that my initial reaction was that it was an error, a prank, or a spam email, but it was actually Her Royal Highness Catherine, Princess of Wales. Inside was a letter of appreciation for Beauty In The Branches.

My scripture-based poetry book was a creation of my solitary walks and deep-rooted vulnerable moments that had traveled across the Atlantic and found its way into the hands of royalty. Although briefly, it was an astonishing reminder that true art can find its way in the universe. Each verse in my book is a powerful reminder that we all live in an interconnected reality, and a small, quiet act of true penmanship can travel across seven seas and find its audience.

This encounter did not alter who I am or how I write. My technique remains the same: an untidy workstation, snatched moments, and a great appreciation for nature's wisdom. It did, however, increase my confidence in the path I took. It showed that self-publishing is a legitimate, effective option for any artist who is confident enough in their work to market it themselves, not a lesser option.

The journey of the self-published poet is one of enormous freedom and responsibility. It's a continual dance between the modest artist and the astute businessman. But, through it all, the most essential thing is the job itself. Words, emotions, and relationships. And you know that all the intricacy, work, and vulnerability were worthwhile when you get a letter from the Princess of Wales, or even a lovely email from a reader who felt a poem spoke to them directly. Your heart's work, the book, found its way. Ultimately, that is the biggest reward of all. Please share your experiences with me if you are voyaging the same adventure as me and have similar moments. I’d love to read it.