Book Publishing & Mental Health

The most imperfect coupling ever.

I have a few things I want to write about this week, but they can wait. Last night, after I shut down my laptop for the day, I decided to take a swim. As I floated around the pool, I thought, “I can’t believe I’m still alive.” I wasn’t sure writing about my mental health again was good for business. On the other hand, keeping this inside for so long has made me feel worse. So, before I get too deep, this is your chance to skip this edition of the newsletter. I’m writing something deeply personal, and I understand if that’s not what you’re here for. Please don’t send me emails to tell me you aren’t interested in this kind of writing. It’s mean and unnecessary. If you’re sticking around to read, here are your trigger warnings: depression, suicide, anxiety.

The Great Meltdown

One night, not long ago, I found myself on my bathroom floor crying. My husband and son were out, and my daughter was asleep. I cried so hard that I vomited, and the only thought in my head was that I should die. I felt alone, but I forced myself to text my oldest friend, someone who has known me since I was 19, and who has been through a lot. She reminded me I was safe in that moment, and that I should breathe. She asked me what I thought triggered me. The answer, as simple as it was, hurt. “It’s work,” I wrote. “On paper, everything is fine.” Except it wasn’t. I had been working seven days a week, at least ten hours a day, for over a month. The fact that I was in grad school didn’t help, but it was also not the primary source of my angst. Book publishing, for all it has given me, is an industry where it is too easy to feel like a failure.

My husband found me curled up on our bed, sobbing. When he asked what was wrong, I told him I wanted to die, and that being here was too painful. I felt like I was failing at work and as a mom, and was using 100% of my energy to ensure my clients were okay. What I wasn’t doing was making sure I was OK. I had been doing too much for too long—so much that my therapist told me one of her notes from our recent sessions was, “What she is doing is not sustainable.” She was right.

Throughout my 30 years in book publishing, I’ve developed a thick skin. Not much stresses me out, except when I feel someone is being disrespectful. Unfortunately, that happens a lot. Everyone thinks they can be a publicist until they try it themselves. It can be fun, but it can also wreck your mental health. When you try to be honest, you get pushback, with some people saying media outlets may want to cover their book, when I know said outlet won’t even respond. When a book’s sales are not great, publicists often get the blame. To this, I would say that authors need to assess whether they did everything in their power to be a collaborative partner in the publication process, or whether the publisher failed to meet their expectations. Often, publicists work with what they have, and sometimes they have a book no one is interested in. Publicists are not miracle workers (well, sometimes we are). We are human beings, not punching bags.

I began seeing my therapist twice per week, and we talked about my intense fear of failure. I’m a control freak and a perfectionist, which is why I excel in certain aspects of my job, such as ensuring events run smoothly, booking travel for authors, crafting error-free emails, and writing press releases, among other tasks. I am also, as my therapist would tell you, someone who stands in her way. I’m not a “yes” person. My core memory of this is from over 20 years ago, when I was Al Franken’s publicist. He told my boss at the time that I was the best publicist he ever had, but I was too bossy, and he wanted someone else to work with. Mind you, I was not mean or disrespectful to him, but I didn’t laugh at his jokes. I’m just not that person. If something isn’t funny, I’m not going to laugh. As Miranda told Carrie in the first Sex and the City movie, “You’ll laugh when something is really, really funny.” It still hurt my feelings that Al Franken thought I was too bossy! It made me feel like I wasn’t doing a good job, even though the facts proved otherwise. The funny thing is, a few years later, when I was pregnant with my son and Al was publishing another book with my employer, we made peace, and I helped out.

The more I speak to book publicists, I see people in a profession who love books, but take so many mental beatings that some days they want to walk away. We are a tough breed, and maybe that’s the problem: people assume we're okay, and we’re too scared to admit otherwise. For every win, there are far more losses, and it takes a toll on our collective psyche. Additionally, we have been living in an endless, urgent news cycle since the pandemic. We’ve been required to do PR during election cycles, after terrorist attacks, natural disasters, and wars. As much as we would like to look away from the media, we can’t, because our job requires us to stay informed about what is happening.

In my recovery from The Great Meltdown, I decided to defer my next class in my MA program until the fall. After I received my MBA, I thought I’d jump right back into grad school. I have completed three MA classes and achieved a 4.0 GPA. Literary Theory can wait. I’m more intentional about which clients I take on. I strive for long-term relationships with my clients, rather than one-time engagements. I want my work to feel enriching, not like a slog (there are slog days, though, which can’t be avoided). I want to love writing this newsletter and not feel like a failure if I go silent for a week. I’m working on all of these things.

I’ve read Grief Is For People by Sloane Crosley, and it broke my heart. Some of it is a love letter to working in book publicity, but a lot of it shows you what book publicists go through, the criticisms that pile up in our heads, how we hide our depression, and the way all of that can lead someone to end their life. I don’t want that for myself, and I don’t want that for anyone working in the industry. Depression doesn’t mean someone is bad at their job or lacks in any way. In fact, most people I know with depression are the brightest and best at what they do.

I hope by reading this, you feel less alone. I also hope that publishing executives read this and incorporate some well-being programs (not the “here are support services” kind). Allow for mental health days. Don’t make someone feel like they can’t tell a manager they’re struggling. And authors, please be kind. Ask questions. Make sure your publicist is okay. It’s the smallest gesture, but a simple “Thank You” or “You’re doing a good job” goes a long way.

If you or someone you know needs help, dial the National Suicide Hotline at 988.

Thanks for reading this (also: I AM OKAY).

Kathleen