On the Anxiety of Finally Publishing a Book After Years of Covering Them

I recently went to a cocktail party for the Publishers Publicity Association, attending as a member of the press. I walked into a roomful of publicists, prepared to be pitched like I’d never been pitched before on upcoming books, but like most fun publishing gatherings with an ample supply of wine, it became less of a professional space and more of a much-needed opportunity to catch up and do a bit of gossiping.

When people I hadn’t seen in a while asked me what was new, I told them that I had just finished a third round of edits on my forthcoming essay collection. And then I immediately felt the impulse to run screaming from group to group, demanding each and every publicist to tell me what I should know before I publish my first book. Having nearly finished editing and having paid for an outside fact checker to check my work, it was almost time to think about marketing. Which means it was almost time to start panicking.

For twenty years or so I’ve edited or written about books and publishing, which has led to the kind of career where work isn’t always so steady, but if your mom’s best friend’s cousin wanted to write a book I’m the one you’d send her to for tips (please don’t do this!). And I’m here to tell you that being an expert at something provides just about no insight when you find yourself “on the other side.”

I know the definite don’ts: I won’t be making my own account for BookTok in an attempt to go viral because I know I won’t be any good at it; I won’t be hiring an outside publicist because after a couple of decades doing this I’m rich in media contacts if not money; and I won’t, when I finally have a buy link from my publisher, only link to Amazon on my social media (if you’re reading this, you likely know that Bookshop.org is the way to go).

But still, there’s so much uncertainty in the work of being an author: Who should I ask to blurb my book and do blurbs really matter anyway? How do I go about getting pre-orders? How can I remember to follow my own rules and refrain, for the love of God, from looking at my Goodreads page?

There’s comfort to know I’m not alone in my anxiety, and I feel lucky to have gotten some pointers over the years from people who used to work (or still do) on the publishing side who’ve crossed over to become an author.

Knopf editor Jenny Jackson told me she learned the importance of small affirmations in the editing process when she became a debut author: “I know when I’m editing, I’m always putting haha or love this or I put hearts in the margins. Not on Cormac [McCarthy], but other authors. I was like, I know that’s important, but it is pathetic how much their little haha, love this notes meant to me as I went on.” Such a good reminder of how editors and agents have to be personal therapists (thank you!!) to needy authors as much as they are salespeople, negotiators, visionaries.

Even with the best literary support system, there’s still a special agony in pitching oneself.

I’ve attended many press lunches for authors with upcoming books, or seen them chat with their editor or publicist over Zoom, while all of the other faces of people who cover books appear in an array of little squares. It’s an incestuous little scene in which most everyone who covers books eventually writes their own, or people who’ve written books begin to cover them (see the New York Times Book Review, where most of the book criticism is written by people who are also authors), or some other form of crossover. And yet most of us are uneasy being in the other seat.

I’ve been so fortunate to be able to commiserate with many authors who once sat with me at some of those tables: Tomi Obaro, Emily Temple, Glory Edim, Keziah Weir, Lauren Mechling. Michelle Hart, a novelist who was formerly an editor at O, the Oprah Magazine, once told me that those publicity lunches, where she met high-powered authors and editors and publicists, were exactly what she needed to get over any lingering thoughts of Imposter Syndrome in promoting her debut: “If I gleaned anything from those lunches it’s something like we’re all just regular people. We’re all just bumbling along together.” I believe her, and I believe I can bumble too.

In a literary world full of insecure authors, I’m excited to become one.