Any published writer quickly discovers this truth.

On publication day, nothing happens. Not really.

You write for maybe a decade and you finally get a book deal. You write and edit for maybe another year or two on a manuscript. And, finally, one glorious day your book is released.

There is no parade, the New York Times does not call, and very few text to congratulate you.

It feels the exact same, in a smaller scope, with a simple blog post.

Nobody cares that you spent a week writing and curating a 2,000 word post.

This because being published, in any form, is not an end. It is a brick in a body of work.

So celebrate it for a second. Mark the occasion,

And then get back to work.

Anne Lamott agrees that getting published is a little overrated.

The loneliest day in the life of a published writer may be publication day. Nothing happens. Perhaps your editor sends flowers. Maybe not. Maybe your family takes you out for dinner. But the world won’t stop to take notice. The universe is indifferent. You have put the shape of your soul between the covers of a book and no one declares a national holiday. Someone named Booklover gives you a one-star review on Amazon.com.

-Dani Shapiro, Still Writing

Published writers understand this.

Anyone one else could see it too, I suppose, a priori.

But only a writer who has been published has felt it.

It’s this: Shortly after you get published, you will feel unfulfilled.

I would add that, to one extent or the other, all great accomplishments are like this though.

Achieving something you have been pursuing for decades has a habit of refocusing your priorities in an unexpected way.

The point is that you will eventually discover that the pleasure of writing is in the work.

So enjoy the moment. Take a second.

You are awesome.

Now get back to work.

The reward is in the doing. Most published writers will tell you that the moment they hold the book, or the prestigious magazine piece, or the good review, or the whatever in their hands—that moment is curiously hollow. It can’t live up to the sweat, the solitude, the bloody battle that it represents.

-Dani Shapiro, Still Writing