It's that time when critics in magazines and newspapers declare their picks for the ten best books of the year. As a writer, I certainly have my opinions on that subject, but since so many books come out each year and I've only sampled a relatively small proportion of them, I'd rather keep out of that debate and instead focus on what made 2004 so important for me: The Top Ten Lessons I've Learned about Getting Published.

1. Getting published doesn't change how you see yourself, but it does change how other people see you, though only for five seconds.

I still scribble my first drafts in the same spiral notebooks I used as a teenager in high school. I still sit in cafes and stare off into space while trying to focus on my work as I did in college. And I still worry about what I'm going to do when I grow up. However, now that I've been published, when other people ask me what I do, I can say that I'm a writer and have an answer ready when I they ask the inevitable next question, "Have you been published?" Yes, I have been published. Generally, the response is, "Oh, wow! That's great!" That's how long you are guaranteed that getting published will change how other people see you, because then they'll have heard of your book or they won't have heard of your book, which leads to all sorts of complications.

2. Memorize how to answer, "So what's your book about?" in 25 seconds or less.

Because books get so little attention in the media, it's more than likely that people you meet will not have heard of your book and then they will feel bad for you. To be polite, they may ask what your book is about. You should tell them, but spare your audience the university lecture. Give them a quick hook and then make an end of it, or else you'll experience eyes glazing over. It's like a little test. If you can't sum up the book in less than 25 seconds, then your book must be a meandering mess. No one will say that, of course, but that's what your friend is thinking.

3. There's no use in asking a writer, "So how's your book doing!!??"

If the question needs to be asked, then it has no real answer. Does anyone ask Toni Morrison or Philip Roth, "So how's your book doing?" (How would they respond, I wonder. "Well, the Nobel was nice, but I'm waiting for another Pulitzer." Or "Only fifteen weeks on the New York Times bestseller list this time.")

When people ask this question, they're wondering about two specific kinds of success: sales and critical reaction. But these two areas are not only the least important for a writer in the long run, but also the two areas least under his or her control. Success is about finishing your book and putting it out in the world, crafting sentences and characters you're proud of, realizing your vision, expressing ideas, seeing your book in a store, reading to an audience who gets your jokes, and so much more.

Sales are important because they increase your chances of being able to continue to write with fewer obstacles, and that's it. (This may be a hard lesson to remember.) If sales were the ultimate goal, then Dan Brown and Hillary Clinton deserve the Pulitzer Prize for the next three years.

Critical acclaim is nice too, but as an occasional critic myself, I know there are times when I get a book that simply isn't to my taste, or when I'm grumpy that I have to read something and comment on it in a witty insightful way even though my mind would rather drift elsewhere, like the fight I had with a friend or a problem at work. I've gotten wonderful reviews and reviews that complained I chose the wrong subjects for my book, or that I wasn't as good as Hemingway or Nabokov. Who's right?

If you're a writer, and people ask you how your book is doing, tell them, "Great! I'm so happy with the way things have gone." Throw in an anecdote of something nice that's happened to you because the book has been published. Or not. Either way, you'll feel better and increase the positive vibrations in the ether about your work.

4. The two appropriate things to say to a writer who's just published a book are: A) "I'm going to go right out and buy a copy!" or "I read your book and I loved it." (Also acceptable is, "I've just bought your book and I can't wait to read it.")

If none of these three statements are true for you, then do your writer friends a favor: lie to them. I've had people say to me, "I think I saw your book somewhere." (As if the book were a long-lost orphan who'd been sighted on a milk carton in Idaho.) I've also gotten, "I'm waiting to find your book in a used bookstore." "I'm waiting to get your book at the library." "My friend bought it and as soon as she's done, she's going to loan it to me." "One of these days I'm going to get your book, if I happen to see a copy of it for sale somewhere."

What these statements sound like to a writer is, "You're a nice person, but not nice enough for me to waste my time supporting your career by going to a bookstore and picking up a copy of your book, or even to spend 2 minutes and $24.95 or $12.95 to order your book on-line." Maybe that is genuinely how you feel, and there is nothing wrong with that. But what good does it do to tell this to the writer?

Similarly, if you did read the book and didn't enjoy it, why let the writer know except to punish him or her for torturing you for a few hours out of your life? As the author Frederic Tuten once told me, there are enough people out there who will tell writers what is wrong with their work. I can say from personal experience that I am indeed fully aware of every conceivable objection The View from Stalin's Head could have earned and I expect when Faith from Beginners comes out I'll hear about that too. Unless you're a close friend (and even then, you might want to consider your words closely), just lie. Or say something about an aspect of the book you did like. "The setting was great." "I loved the character of the mother." "Great word choice on page 73." Saying nothing is somewhat less preferable because writers are needy sensitive creatures who will interpret silences as damning.

The worst thing to say, by the way, is the maddeningly non-committal, "I read your book." Or "I have a friend who read your book." How is the writer supposed to respond? Imagine if you invited a friend to your home for dinner, and at the end of the meal she said, "I've eaten your food."

Just lie.

5. Start working on something else

It takes a long time, sometimes years, to publish and edit a book. By the time it's out, you get a three-month window in which you're not expected to have done anything else because you can be described as "just having been published." After that, you're left with nothing.

As soon as that final manuscript is delivered and accepted, celebrate for a day or two and then get to work on your next project. It's also a good way to stay somewhat dispassionate if something unfortunate happens with the publication of your book.

6. Try to set the bar higher with each new book.

Why do the same thing twice? You've proven you can tackle third person? Try first person. You've written an autobiographical memoir? Go for a book about something that isn't so close to you. Take chances. Stay fresh.

7. Have a life.

This is almost impossible for writers, but try to develop and maintain other interests besides writing and books, and then talk about them with your family and friends. Save the neurotic yammering about the state of literature for your diary or your therapist.

8. If you're asked for a favor, do it if you possibly can.

We have enough assholes in the world. Success breeds success. Kindness breeds kindness. Don't worry that someone might get a leg up on you if you help him up the ladder. You may need help from that person yourself someday.

9. Read and buy books

Support your friends and your community by buying their work, even if you don't read it. This is an important business we're in, and we need to keep it going. Replace the time you waste watching that rerun of "The Golden Girls" for the eightieth time by reading for half an hour. You'll like yourself for it.

10. Be proud of what you've achieved!

As Anne Lamott and so many others have pointed out, getting published won't take care of all your problems, but is an extremely nice thing to have happen to you. I feel tremendously blessed for the publication of The View from Stalin's Head, the way it was put out, the way it was received, and the way it's changed my life. I could have had more, but I could have had less. It's like that for every writer. Even my idol E. M. Forster lamented that he hadn't accomplished enough. Writers are gifted at being miserable. Take some time to be happy for what you have. You deserve it.