Are Authors Really That Exhausted?
yes, and here's why--from the is publishing sustainable? series
An Author's Meditation I wish I could say that it doesn’t take work to get quiet but that would be a lie. Everything and nothing is vying for the attention we so badly want to give to our inner selves— the phone in the room next door, the cars outside the window, the soft sounds of the dogs’ paws, and the incessant inner noisy thoughts— it’s all there, all the time, and we cannot escape it. But still, we try. Close my eyes, take a deep breath, or half of one if I can manage it, and ask what’s happening inside— no, scratch that— just notice, no questions, just noticing. Things are not as they seem. I am exhausted, but not too bad, I guess. Maybe I’m lonely, but not too lonely. I want to believe in human beings again. I still believe, too. The low hum of joy is somewhere in here. The technological world is too loud but we still need it. I want simplicity. I could be simple. I could simply be me. Open my eyes and notice that even what I tried to notice was mostly thoughts, not embodiment, mostly examinations, answers to questions I was trying not to ask. Still. Still, I’ll try again soon, try to soothe the ache, quiet the noise, stop asking so many questions, try to notice instead of interrogate, try to listen instead of fixing. That work is done, and the other work begins— the work of the day, the work of words, the work of boundaries and attempts at being a more whole human. That work waits, and I hope that, somehow, I show up to it fully.
Hi friends,
I wanted to start today with a poem, because I’m realizing, once again, as I realize every few months, it seems, how noisy it is everywhere. So, I encourage you to go back and read the poem as you need, to get quiet and still, to honor all of who you are, to lean into every facet of healthy and gentle embodiment that beckons to you.
Today we are jumping into part TWO of the series, Is Publishing Sustainable?, where we are examining this idea of author hustling (and managing burnout).
In the title I asked if authors are really that exhausted, and I think the honest answer is that we are even more exhausted than we care to admit, and that’s because we are playing a game that is built for struggle.
Remember, we worked through part one last week, focusing on publisher’s responsibilities through these three things:
publishers aren’t our community, so we must build community elsewhere
publishing is colonial, linear, racist, and too white
it can’t be about the numbers or we will never be happy
With all of this in mind, let’s turn toward ourselves and focus on three aspects of hustling and burnout and what it’s like to be an author:
authors are lonely and feel trapped in transactional relationships
authors are not one-size-fits-all, so we must honor ourselves
the hustle is unsustainable and we need seasonal transitions
Photo by Chris Spiegl on Unsplash
First, I’ve noticed that authors are lonely, and that our relationships are often transactional and competitive.
We are disconnected and because we are in such a competitive industry, things feel, well, lonely.
We can look up to other authors, but we are also envious of their success. We can cheer on others, but we secretly hope that someone will cheer us on. So much of this is natural human sentiment, but it’s helpful to notice it along the way, and our capitalistic system exacerbates it.
In the last few years, it’s become important to be to be an advocate for other authors when I have the capacity to do so (which isn’t all the time, and to be honest, it’s limited, but it matters to me). I am an author today because another woman did this for me. An author I didn’t know took the time to listen to me share about a book idea, and she encouraged me to reach out to a publishing house. Later I asked her why she helped me and she said that as women, we have to help each other—there’s no point in keeping this gift all to ourselves when we can share it and make the world a better place.
I will never, ever forget that kindness, and because she was so open with her advocacy, I had the courage to knock on a publisher’s door.
But we have a lot of work to do as authors, and I think that part of our loneliness is that we inhabit work in a very colonial space, which forces us to sometimes act in ways that don’t bring about reciprocity or kinship in our relationships with one another.
When our work is all about numbers and sales, algorithms, staying on top of social media, managing our online presence well, always updating our resumes and bios, and who we can get to help us get higher, it becomes dehumanizing in a way, and hustle is real because we are terrified of failure.
In a lot of ways, our relationship to one another as authors is compromised, and we have to reclaim the goodness.
Our author-friendships are forged in an economy of competition and desperation. Instead of really checking in on one another, we “check in” so that we can ask a favor. We don’t pause to see the nuance and complexity in others. We feel forced by algorithms to perform.
We forget a little of our sense of belonging.
How can we stay tethered to the humanness in one another?
We do it by noticing what’s happening and shifting it, even if it’s little by little.
We do it by understanding that even the most “successful” among us are actually struggling with keeping up with it all, and we can hold care with one another.
We do it by checking in and meaning it.
We do it by genuinely honoring and supporting book projects by authors who are struggling to get their work out there, especially those from marginalized and underrepresented communities in publishing.
And when you begin to find those folks, and there are working friendships that feel reciprocal and authentic, things begin to shift, and we remember that supporting one another’s lives and writing holds us steady in an often toxic work environment.
Next, as authors we are not one-size-fits-all, and we have to honor who we are.
Is social media bad for your mental health? Set boundaries! Tell your publisher what you are and aren’t willing to do! Ask them to pay for a social media manager (they might say no, but you could try anyway)! Ask for more, and see what happens.
Do you need a certain kind of schedule to keep your writing on track that doesn’t look like the daily work of others? That’s okay! Work it out for yourself so that you can succeed, and don’t be afraid to share that with others who are trying to find their way.
Are you looking for support? Gather up another author or two and find a weekly time to write together over zoom (or in person if you can manage it). Set 30 minutes at a time to just write, and check in with one another. Support one another. Commit to those relationships where you can.
And if you are absolutely exhausted from the launch of your book, let someone know. This is why I am so open about specifically launch seasons and how the burnout is real. It is so real. We need scheduled care, time away from social media, nourishing food and kind people to remind us of who we are when our work gets unsustainable (In the last part of this series I’ll be sharing ways to make book launches more sustainable to stay tuned for that).
When I first shared about how difficult this is, of course I worried that people would think I was complaining about my work—so many of us do. But I am so incredibly grateful to be an author, and because I love this field so much, I have to speak up about ways to make it better, more ethical, more sustainable for all of us.
I want vulnerable conversations to help others tell their truths.
And so many did! Authors I’d never thought of as seeming exhausted shared how hard their launch was, how they should be celebrating this milestone but feel emptied out. Some authors have never recovered from past book launches because it was so hard on their bodies, minds and souls.
This should not be. And in this, we are not honoring who we are. There has to be another way.
And we have to be able to admit that what works for others might not work for us; the way others navigate their career might not be the same way we navigate ours. Honoring ourselves is essential to creating books that change the world.
And again, I’m not here to give answers, but to name and notice, to point us toward deeper conversations and more community in the publishing world.
In honoring the uniqueness of each of our lives and writing journeys, we honor the work itself, and encourage one another to keep going and to maintain care along the way, however that shows up.
Third, as authors we need seasonal transitions because hustling around a book is unsustainable.
If you’ve been here very long, you know I am very passionate about living seasonally, both in the environment around us and by honoring what’s happening in our inner worlds.
So this is for every author who feels stuck, who is struggling because you aren’t who you used to be.
You can transition and change and live seasonally. It’s okay.
Honoring our boundaries is part of this. My mind is most focused when I shut off the emails, social media, all the distractions and get to the actual writing, but that is so, so difficult to maintain. I need different boundaries and restrictions than I did last week or two years ago. Our minds struggle to get still and lean in, which is why I started this with a poem today—a pause, getting still, finding the words to feel and say what I needed to say.
Every few months, I stop and take a look at my daily schedule. I pay attention to speaking events coming up, I take stock of different writing projects, I make room around movement and rest, with enough space to really get my work done (which still doesn’t happen all the time, let’s be honest).
I started writing my books when my kids were toddlers, and we had no childcare. I’d write any chance I got around their schedule, I’d write for 2 hours every Saturday morning at a coffee shop, and if I still maintained the same frame of mind and space now that I did then, things would fall apart. I can’t even work the same way I was working a month ago, because I’m shifting in myself, and I have to honor that.
I had to transition along the way to find myself, to honor my work, to ask what’s next.
Pausing to ask what’s working and what’s not working is an essential part of our work as humans and as authors. We all have different aspects of our lives that we are tending to on a daily basis, so being honest about where we are and what we have the space for will help us find success for the projects we need to focus on.
So as an author, schedule time to pause and re-assess, and let the season be what it needs to be. Dream of future seasons, make plans, and hold space for those future seasons to show up differently than you might expect.
So take some time and ask yourself these questions:
Is my current schedule or way of looking at things sustainable?
How can I honor the season I am in?
Where I do need to incorporate things like rest, care, and movement into my work?
How can I realistically honor my work with all the other aspects of my daily life?
And as you answer these questions, share what you’ve discovered with someone who cares about you. Ask them to help you work through this, to hold you up as you find your transitions, as you embrace seasonal ways of living.
These are just three things (out of many) I’ve been thinking about lately as an author. Because we complex, nuanced humans, of course it’s complex being an author, examining all the facets of what that means and how we care for ourselves and one another.
But I am so glad you’re here, and my main aim in this whole series is to bring up an important conversation, and to do it in community with the other authors I continually learn from and spend time with.
As I prepare for the next part of the series about audience/reader communities, I’d really love to know something: why are you here? what brought you to the Liminality Journal? what draws you to this space, and what have you learned? Please let me know in the comments, because, after all, you’re my community.
Onward, friends.
.
I was initially drawn to your books from a podcast I was sent by a friend about your experience straddling two worlds within life and religion. As someone who holds both colonized and colonizer blood in my own body, I am hungry for elders who are exploring that liminal space. Then I read your first book, then the second and was drawn to an ongoing connection with you. Just wanting to hear your stories and experiences as a way to validate my own existence and undo an aloneness that feels hard to relate in most spaces. You explore possibility and challenge with "is" with firm softness, a compassionate clarity that feels important and needed for my own sensitive nervous system.
Hello! Living Resistance brought me deeper into your work and outlook. (It also brought me to Writing the Wild!) I have emmense admiration for the way you seek to continue to be a full human in all your work. Your willingness to share that process/struggle/joy has created a safe space for many of us, that is why I'm a part of your substack community specifically. I just want to soak up all your wisdom and questions as I too try to make living a creative life a healthy reality. ❤️