There is a particular kind of silence that follows publishing a book.

You press the button. The page goes live. The cover appears where you hoped it would. Then, more often than not, nothing much happens at all.

No fanfare. No sudden enlightenment from the algorithm. Just you, a cup of coffee, and the slightly unreal feeling that something important has been released into the world and promptly ignored.

This is the part nobody really talks about.

Most indie authors do not live in a state of permanent hustle. We live in the gaps. Between work and family. Between good days and tired ones. Between bursts of writing and long stretches where progress is quieter and harder to see.

The reality is that being an indie author is mostly ordinary.

It is opening the document again when you are not entirely sure where it is going. It is tweaking a paragraph that only you will notice. It is updating a website that gets a handful of visits and doing it anyway. It is learning just enough about marketing to avoid complete invisibility, while secretly wishing you could get back to the writing.

Some days go well. Words flow, confidence holds, and things feel aligned. Other days are less obliging. The sentences are stubborn. The numbers are unhelpful. Motivation wanders off without leaving a forwarding address.

Both days count.

The trick, if there is one, is not intensity. It is return. Coming back to the desk, or the notebook, or the idea, even when enthusiasm has dipped. Especially then. Not to force something brilliant, but simply to stay in conversation with the work.

There is a quiet satisfaction in this way of working. It does not show up easily online. It does not lend itself to bold claims or dramatic timelines. But it builds something solid over time. Skills deepen. Stories accumulate. Readers find their way back.

Indie authors often underestimate this.

We are encouraged to look for momentum, for spikes, for signs that we are doing it right. Yet most meaningful progress looks flatter than that. It looks like consistency. Like patience. Like caring enough to keep going without demanding proof every step of the way.

If you are writing quietly, imperfectly, and persistently, you are doing more than you think.

That is the quiet life of an indie author. And it is enough.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2026