Steps, Sales and the Things We Count
measuring what matters most
The first gym I ever joined had a fancy elevated track. Seven laps equaled one mile. In the pool, sixty-five laps made a mile. Laps were my tool for counting.
Today I measure activity by steps and beats. The watch on my wrist counts my steps and heart rate whether I ask it to or not. It knows if I am walking on a flat surface or climbing stairs. It even works in the pool. My phone also functions as a counter. Opening any number of apps, I receive a report of clicks, likes, comments, views, plays, reads, follows, subscribes, unsubscribes, orders, abandoned carts, and reviews.
It’s both amazing and overwhelming. I told myself leading up to the launch of Not My Grandmother’s Hymnal that I wouldn’t get caught up in counting. That I wouldn’t allow numbers to determine success, worth, and value. That’s easier said than done.
As I shared yesterday in the 10CAMELS email newsletter, I just celebrated selling the 100th signed copy of the book. I set this number, wanting a goal that felt achievable and that would also be a bit of a challenge. Reaching it feels really wonderful! Like any new endeavor, it took work—planning, preparing, and promoting.
With my first book, Unraveling, I did not offer direct sales. Amazon was the primary source of orders. In addition to taking a huge chunk of profits, there is also a long wait to get sales reports. Celebrating the numbers that I can count, offers another perspective on those that remain elusive. Not knowing how sales are going from other sources is frustrating and perhaps—if I allow—can also be freeing.
This isn’t to say the numbers are irrelevant or that the whole book publishing industry isn’t in need of some radical reconfiguration, yet, I remind myself that having the numbers won’t change them. It also won’t expedite the royalty check. Constantly refreshing the page really only changes me. Increasing doubts and anxieties about my words and the writing process.
So now what? Do I stop counting all together or transform what and how I count?
Just over a decade ago, vacationing in Florida (before I moved there) over Christmas break, I decided to usher in the New Year with a long walk in a preserve. There were several trail options on the sign. Ranging from less than one mile to more than seven. I just started walking. No smart watch. No activity apps on my phone.
I was out there for hours.
Not counting, but noticing.
The distinct paths beneath my feet—dirt, sand, grass, mud, gravel.
The trees—palms, pines, cypresses, oaks, mangroves.
The plants. The birds. The wildlife.
The hot sun. The blue sky.
The clouds forming and fading.
The air. The light rain that cooled me off at just the right time.
The ideas birthed. The dreams that surfaced.
The fears released. The courage embraced.
The intentions set.
Absolutely no concern for laps or steps.
Fully aware and completely engaged in every moment, feeling every breath, inquisitively holding every sign of life.
Last week I received a note from a reader of Not My Grandmother’s Hymnal. They shared thoughts on the book as a whole and also tender and vulnerable pieces of their own spiritual journey. I wept as I read it. Tears of joy and gratitude.
My real goal for these poems wasn’t a number, but a connection. I wanted to share a chapter of my story in hopes of inspiring others to journey into their own.
For people harmed by family and church, the possibility of healing.
For people who have experienced loss, space to name the grieving.
For people in positions of social and religious power, a reminder of the lasting impacts of their actions and beliefs, silence and avoidance.
For all of us wondering what to do with our grandmother’s hymnal, an invitation to creatively re-arrange the words and curiously re-compose the tunes.
These goals are much harder to count. And they are the ones that really count. That note in my inbox was more valuable than any metric social media could ever send. The events beginning to fill my calendar, both large and small, a source of unmatched excitement!
I’ve been asking myself if I’m truly cut out for this full-time writer life because while money matters, it is not what matters most to me. As the answer takes shapes I’ll surely write about it. But for now, I end with a few questions.
What are you counting?
How do you measure progress and success?
What numbers matter most?
What would it look like to treat every day like a New Year’s adventure with no tracking devices?
Deep in thought, Rebecca
I’m still offering those signed copies of Not My Grandmother’s Hymnal. Click the box below to make your order.
I am also offering poems for Holy Week. From Sunday, March 29 – Sunday, April 5 I’ll be sharing daily poems across platforms. Here’s a schedule so you know where to find them. And here’s links for our Email Newsletter, YouTube Channel, Facebook and Instagram accounts so you don’t have to search each day.
