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🌸Sakura Saku(桜咲く): Defining What "Making It" Really Means

  • 5 hours ago
  • 4 min read

Hi guys! It's me, AiTommy✨️


Spring arrived quietly this year. The cherry trees in my neighborhood park started blooming, and some of them are already in full flower. It's really beautiful.

In Japanese, there's a cultural and linguistic tradition tied to cherry blossoms.


When sakura bloom, it represents success. We often say, "sakura saku(桜咲く)." Such as passing an exam, being accepted into the dream school, reaching a goal.


When the petals fall, it represents failure or loss.


So with that in mind, I want to use this moment to talk about success: what it means, what it looks like, and how I've been feeling after my debut novel launched on Amazon.

The numbers, honestly

When I first started lurking in the self-publishing subreddit about a year ago, one of the first things I learned was this: the average self-published author sells somewhere between 250 and 500 copies in their first year.

According to statistics from sources like Wordstacker and official ISBN data, the majority of self-published books sell fewer than 100 copies total, and most of those go to family and friends.


Which means, selling 200 copies is considered a real success in this self-publishing world. Selling 1,000 copies puts you in the top 10%.


Income-wise, around 50% of self-published authors earn less than $500 per year. When you factor in cover design, formatting, and advertising costs, most authors finish in the red.


As of right now, I've earned $588 and sold 123 copies.


By those metrics, I think I can say that I've stepped into the "success" category.

What success actually feels like

I genuinely believe this is a success. There were mistakes along the way. The process was far from perfect. But the fact that this many people, during a time when everything is getting more expensive and the world feels heavy, chose to pick up my book and seek out something that might make them feel good... that means everything to me. I'm so glad I made this book.



At the same time, there's a voice in the back of my head that keeps pushing.

Make more videos. Post more. What if nothing goes viral? Look at that author... more reviews, more sales, more everything. You paused your fan content for this. Was it worth it?


You need to do more, earn more, make more.


I won't pretend that voice isn't there.


But I don't think it's entirely bad.


I genuinely love the feeling of making something and having someone pay for it and enjoy it. That restless energy — that drive to keep going — it's fuel. It moves me forward. The key is making sure it doesn't burn me out.


And alongside that drive, I think it matters just as much to stop and acknowledge what you've already done — and then ask: what comes next?

Defining success for yourself

The internet makes it very easy to feel like the biggest successes are right next to you.


But the internet also creates a risk: tying your entire sense of success to numbers. Numbers are seductive because they're universal. Everyone understands them. They're a shared measuring stick.


So when I, or say "if even one stranger enjoys this book, that's a success," I know some people will push back. And I understand why. Numbers feel concrete in a way that feelings don't.


That's exactly why I think one of the most important things we can do is to define success for ourselves.


Not everyone wants to be a bestselling millionaire. Reaching that level often requires riding trends, making compromises, or playing a very specific game. Some people don't want that — and that's completely valid. Some people feel successful the moment their book exists on Amazon. Some feel it when a stranger buys a copy. Some need 10,000 sales before it feels real. Some won't feel it until they hit a million.


There's no right answer. And because we live in a world with so many different versions of success, we have to decide for ourselves what it means, or we'll spend our whole lives chasing something we can never quite reach.


I want to sell 10,000 copies someday. I genuinely believe this story has the potential to get there. That's a goal I'm holding onto.


But right now, in this moment? This publishing journey is a success. The book is out. It exists in the world.

Your own measuring stick

Whether you're a writer, an artist, or just someone trying to figure out what you're working toward, I think this applies to all of us.


Don't borrow someone else's measuring stick for your own life. Decide what you're aiming for, and what it means when you get there.


That's harder than it sounds. We live in a world with a lot of freedom, and freedom can be overwhelming. But I think it's a genuinely beautiful thing. The old default path — prestigious university, stable job, marriage, children, done — was never the only valid option. And more and more, we're allowed to recognize that.


I don't know what your life looks like. But I hope you're walking your own path.


And I hope you can measure your wins and losses by your own standards, not someone else's.


Keep going. Someday, your cherry blossoms will bloom.




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