Stop Chasing Adult Participation Trophies
You’re Not a Bestselling Author. And That’s Okay
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I saw someone post the other day: “So honored to now be a bestselling author!”
No one I knew. No book I recognized. Cover looked like it was designed on Microsoft Paint 1985. Still, I wrote: “Congratulations! That’s fantastic! What list did you break?”
Crickets.
That’s when I remembered the scam. People write books. That’s noble, delusional, and often necessary. It’s the new trophy system that bugs me. The adult version of the plastic medal for “showing up” in youth soccer. (Such a glorious day when each of my daughters threw theirs in the trash and replaced them with the earned ones!)
You Are (Most Likely) Not a Bestselling Author
You can now say you’re a bestselling author if you crack the Top 10 in Amazon’s “Bicycle Repair for Little People” category. Here are a few other categories where you too can become a #1 Amazon Bestselling Author:
“Hot New Releases in Pet Grief Memoirs”
“Top 10 Kindle Singles on Victorian-Era Plumbing”
“Best Sellers in Men’s Health > Vegan Snacks > Intermittent Fasting for Pickleball Coaches”
“Top Self-Help Books for Stepparents of Left-Handed Children”
“#1 in World History > Obscure Wars > The War of Jenkins’ Ear”
And it’s more than the categories. It’s the numbers.
Let’s talk sales. Real ones. The numbers that peel back the curtain and reveal how rare real bestsellerdom is:
Fewer than 200 books a year sell more than 100,000 copies.
Roughly 0.004% of books published in the U.S. each year reach this.
Around 98% of traditionally published books sell fewer than 5,000 copies.
More than 50% sell fewer than 1,000.
Most self-published books? Under 100 copies. Total.
So if someone says they’re a “bestseller,” I get curious. Not snarky. Curious.
Because I get it. We all want to matter. We want our work to be seen, respected, read. The dopamine hit from external validation is real (so says author and podcaster bros). But when your nervous system is always scanning for awards, titles, and metrics, you forget why you started. You forget the love.
Why You Write and Create
You write because you’re in love with sentences.
You build because you’re obsessed with problems.
You perform because there’s something raw in you that needs to leak out.
When you outsource your sense of meaning to trophies, you trade curiosity for comparison. You go from being a maker to being a marketer of status.
This might hit a nerve. So let’s roll this back for a bit.
Aren’t these the same people who complain about participation trophies in youth soccer?
“You didn’t win, why are you getting a ribbon?”
Then, as adults, they post photos of awards they paid to apply for. Or screenshots of bestseller lists where they’re #7 in a category no one ever heard of (and neither did they).
They rail against kids “always on their phones,” yet they haven’t met a stranger’s eye on the subway in six years. I once saw a guy walk into traffic while scrolling through Instagram, missing a double rainbow arcing over the suburban skyline. He was posting about “being more mindful.” He made me miss part of the moment because I was so intrigued by the superimposed imagery.
Adults are riddled with hypocrisy. We need to see it. Name it. Maybe even laugh at it a little. I want you to fucking laugh at the absurdity of people posting bestseller status for their books on the horrors of social comparison, the tyranny of social media, and the benefits of authentic happiness….
Here’s the truth most people won’t say out loud:
You don’t need to be a bestselling author to be a damn good one.
You don’t need to get 500 shares on your article to know it meant something.
And you definitely don’t need to win Book of the Month in a category invented by an Amazon algorithm to prove that your work is worthy of this life.
You just have to show up for the work.
Write the sentence.
Edit the poorly structured paragraph.
Rework the structure.
Start again.
Repeat. For years. Quietly.
I’m not a well-known author.
Yet I’ve had readers send me messages saying a piece I wrote helped them get through a divorce. Or talk to their kid. Or decide not to quit. I’ve watched teenagers carry my book in their backpack and quote it back to me in a shaky voice after a lecture. That’s a hell of a reward. Better than a badge.
But even that can become a currency of external validation. So I remind myself:
Fall in love with process. Not praise.
Art isn’t about accolades. It’s about precision and voice.
Is this what you meant to say?
Is this honest?
Is this the sharpest version of your idea?
Those are the trophies I trust.
A Call for Recalibrating
If you’re writing, painting, coding, parenting, composing, coaching, or building ask yourself:
Did I go deep?
Was I brave?
Did I tell the truth?
Would I be proud of this if no one saw it?
Did I do it in my unique way?
These are the lists worth topping.
Final note to fellow artists and thinkers:
There is no shame in small numbers.
There is no dishonor in obscurity.
What’s shameful is pretending to be something you’re not, because you think you need to be more than you already are.
(Do read
’s provocative piece on creative scamming - here)In a world dying for authenticity, being real is your competitive advantage.
So don’t be a “bestseller.” Be better than that.
Be a maker. A craftsperson. A freak who loves the work.
That’s more than enough.
Personal Caveat
For full transparency, I once tasted the sweet, fleeting nectar of bestsellerdom. Two weeks. On Audible.
A book I coauthored with the brilliant Robert Biswas-Diener:
We were nestled in among the spiritual awakening and murder mystery books, doing our little treatise on psychological science and the shadow self.
Did we belong there? Who knows. Do I count it? Depends on the day and the level of self-worth in my bloodstream. You tell me: does two weeks on an audio bestseller list make you a bestselling author, or just a person who briefly slipped through the algorithmic cracks with something worth listening to?
We’re agnostic.
You can pin the badge on our lab coats or leave it in the drawer.
Both of us will still be here, doing the work. And hope you do the same.
If this made you think (or laugh), help a brother out:
Share - Post a link on social media. Send it to friends. My fragile ego appreciates every 💖. And it gives the post a boost.
Comment - I will respond.
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Todd B. Kashdan is the author of several books including The Upside of Your Dark Side (Penguin) and The Art of Insubordination: How to Dissent and Defy Effectively (Avery/Penguin) and Professor of Psychology and Founder of The Well-Being Laboratory at George Mason University.
Read Past Issues Here Including:
Confronting The Biggest Prick At The Gym
At my gym, there’s this guy I couldn’t stand. Latino guy (about 83.1% of the men in my gym are Latino). Tower of muscle. Neck like a tree trunk. Face like a brick wall that someone scowled into existence. I mean that literally. His facial expression is a permanent scowl.
So many great points, as well as support for writers who don't receive traditional recognition.
I agree with your comment about the value of recognizing one's impact in small ways, even without the bestseller status.
Your comment about telling the truth is essential. In a small niche area where I write, there is an author who has essentially paid a scammy source to get a bestseller award. The author lies about their credentials and promotes themself widely, bartering away their integrity. I find this astonishing, but I imagine I am naive about how some folks achieve success.
What we thought about the situation in the opposite direction: could we sometimes focus on the process too much and become perfectionistic about it? It’s easy to talk about getting intrinsically energized by the flow of creative energy, without thinking of the end result; but what if we get so bogged down in the details of how we think the process “should” make us feel that we end up never achieving the goal because we neglect to see how our process is incongruent with our goal? It’s like planning to fill up your car with gas to see how far it can go, but if we use the wrong type of gas for our car (like using premium gas for a regular- type car) then our car becomes less efficient without us knowing it!