Hi, hi, new subscribers! Thank you for joining—please feel free to drop a comment or an email if you have requests for things for me to talk about. In the meantime, I’ve still been having lots of thoughts about burnout, on the heels of the discussion of the burnout shadow pandemic during the Covid pandemic—both of which are still happening in publishing and elsewhere.
You know you’re embracing #cronelife when you accept that your own productivity is largely tied to whether the sun is out. Well, the sun has been out and I’ve realized I have grown to hate the word productive. Should we really be structuring our lives around something that also describes a cough?
Hear me out. I know we all have to do things and get things done and that work can be and hopefully is meaningful. Also, lots of times there’s no choice to be had for those of us who did not grow up among the landed gentry, let alone the titled class. (Are those the same? I apologize to every historical romance author I love for not really knowing the difference, just like I couldn’t tell you which is higher in rank, a marquess or a viscount—pass the ratafia, however, and have you seen the calves on that footman?) (Aside aside: Bridgerton is ALMOST BACK, baby. Soon we will be swooning.)
But, anyway, I’m developing a theory. I more or less randomly started reading this book, not my usual jam, because I’ve seen recommendations from people I trust and spotted it at the library (and it’s good!)…
Although…
The author describes himself as a former productivity junkie, a dabbler in many, many systems over the years. And there is nothing wrong with that—you have to try on a lot of processes and variations on same to find yours as an author, and even then, it shifts as you change, as your life changes. Why should life or any other job be any different?
The thesis of the book is essentially that life is short. As in REALLY short. So, stop pretending you’re going to get to do everything, that it’s even possible, let alone a good way to set goals. I feel thoroughly enabled to answer email immediately or not at all, as I have guiltily done for years, by this book, so it’s already done its job for me.
BUT one of the things reading it has made me remember, hearing friends and strangers online talk about the burnout they’re experiencing, is how I felt when I first left my day job to write full-time. It does not seem possible that was seven years ago now (I left because it was time and also because I absolutely knew I could not work for the Uber-conservative Republican governor who was elected — Matt Bevin — and undo all the good work we’d done on rolling out the health insurance marketplace here; also, I could BUY insurance through it). At the time, I was writing two books a year, promoting roughly the same amount, while also serving as assistant communications director of the Cabinet for Health and Family Services here in Ky., and doing other book-related stuff for Publishers Weekly and SubPress. I have a very distinct memory of buying internet on the flight the first time I was invited to participate in the LA Times Festival of Books so that I could answer reporters’ questions about the Affordable Care Act. I never had a break or a vacation, not really. And I had NO CLUE how burned out I was until I stopped.
That kind of soul-deep pushing yourself past any reasonable limit does a real number on you. For one thing, it embeds this belief that since you probably could always be doing more then you should always be doing more. As I said in my last post, I feel like the pandemic has been a pause that allowed a lot of people to look at and feel where they actually were…
And we keep trying to return to “normal.” The pandemic isn’t over, of course, but the recent—especially—push to normalcy is as if it was. I have in-person book events starting next week. Festivals and classes are going back in-person. Some people are back in the offices. Certainly, capitalism means that the titled lords think we should all snap to.
But we’ve all reevaluated things. Our priorities have shifted. A lot of us people have come through the past couple of brutally stressful years with severe burnout, overwhelmed, and badly overcommitted to everything from Vital Work to Keeping The House Immaculate. The expectation is that we will go back to work juggling every ball available like nothing has happened or changed.
But we have changed.
I don’t know about you all, or y’all, as we say here, but I don’t think my “maximum capacity” is the same anymore, even if I wanted it to be. I think the trauma of the past two years has fundamentally shifted what “normal” even looks like.
I fear the truth is that we can’t do as much as we could before. Maybe, honestly, we never could. And we’d be foolish to try. TOO SOON, as the saying goes. So, I’m working on embracing that it’s okay if the closet devolves into a mess every three months, as long as I’m writing. It’s okay if there are clean clothes still in the basket when it’s time to do laundry. It’s all right if that email takes two days to answer. It’s okay to say no to some things, in order to do the important, meaningful work and sometimes that important, meaningful work is simply resting. Living. Breathing. Sticking around for that cup of coffee after yoga, a luxury that truly feels luxurious.
I’ve produced a lot this pandemic, but I’m less capable of juggling everything else too. And I’m going to do my best to get okay with that, instead of trying to anyway.
So, to link this back to publishing (and other industries’) burnout (but especially publishing), it seems to me that in addition to better pay, advancement opportunities, and administrative support, it’s time for a stock-taking. Are there things that it simply isn’t as important to do anymore? Where can you ease off your burned out workers, without much of a difference? How can you make their work about what is most important, instead of a million tasks that quite possibly aren’t? Or, if they are, should be done by a different person with a different job? If what we can do—all of us—has shifted, then the structure better shift what these staffers are expected to do—because otherwise the exodus of irreplaceable talent will continue. And we’d better shift our expectations of ourselves.
Normal doesn’t live here anymore.
For my part, I’m making a concerted effort to recognize the difference between what I would like and what’s a priority. Not just for myself, but for the people I’m lucky enough to work with. Let’s be gentle with each other.
We all need it.
Extra credit reading: Publishers Marketplace has an un-paywalled story about editorial burnout by Erin Somers.
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I was going to talk a little about my take on the new ability for authors to run ads for their trad-pubbed books at the Big River Site (short version: the Big River will definitely make money from this—anyone else? Shrug emoji). But this has gotten long, so I’ll save that for next week, when we’ll probably know more details anyway!
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My author copies of THE DATE FROM HELL came! The supply chain can’t hold me back!
Don’t these look amazing together? (Design by genius art director Kerri Resnick, with spot illustrations by Louisa Cannell, who recently did a billboard for Mrs. Maisel and how cool is that?) I’ll be at the Southern Kentucky Book Festival March 25-26, with early copies available! Other event details TK soon.
Also! One of my absolute favorite humans and writers, Karen Joy Fowler’s wonderful new book BOOTH is out now and she did a By the Book for the New York Times that is one of the most delightful I can ever recall and I’m not just saying that because we’re mentioned in it. But that did make my day. Here’s a gift link to read it without counting against your free articles.
If it’s sunny where you are, you have my permission to sit outside with a book at your soonest opportunity. Or stay inside and rearrange your shelves in some extremely personal way.
If you want to switch to a paid subscription, here’s a code for 10 percent off for the next few days (sometime in a few months, I’ll be introducing some paywalled posts, but for now everything is available to everyone). HUGE thanks to those who’ve already jumped on board as paid subscribers and those who are just here!
Thank you for that post. I neede that. I am a productivity junkie at work, and a slacker at home. I don't know what you call that, but I am a Gemini by birth, the Twins, so par for the course, right? Rock on, lady. Enjoy the sun when you can. And maybe after all this covdidity is tamped down a bit more you can come chat with the teens at the Scott County Public Library again, and get some love in person. Best wishes for many productive but relaxing days ahead.... Roseann & staff at the SCPL in Georgetown, KY
This feels RIGHT: The expectation is that we will go back to work juggling every ball available like nothing has happened or changed.
But we have changed.