Why I needed a social media break

Breakdown incoming

Since Someone Else’s Child hit shelves in June 2022, I have gone hard out of the gates. Maybe too hard.

I was acutely aware of the small window of opportunity that exists right after a book is released. Generally speaking, new books have a month in the limelight (and this is also the time they share with other books released the same month), and then the following month’s books start rolling out. The competition continues each month of the year like a never-ending conveyor belt. We’ve all seen how many books there are to choose from, I mean how in the hell do readers decide?

As a debut, I wanted to capitalise on the hype of the first month by continuing to connect with readers. I did this through bookshop visits, library events, attending festivals and networking with people in the industry. I attended book launches and enthusiastically supported new and established writers. It was fabulous and exhilarating but in some circumstances costly and, at times, exhausting. There were moments I felt guilty about being away from my family but assured myself it was all part of the dream job.

The further my book drifted from its release date, the more it was dwarfed by the sheer volume of books hitting shelves. Some with major campaigns, bigger budgets, and celebrity names.

When I walked into BigW three months after my book had come out and the sales assistant was literally scooping my books off the shelf to make room for Colleen Hoover, I wanted to cry.

Experienced writers who are sturdy enough to survive in this industry for more than one book wisely advised me I had to play the long game. Debut authors have to build their readerships which makes perfect sense. How often have you discovered an author’s third or fourth book and only then realised they had a backlist? I confess I had no idea Gillian Flynn had written Sharp Objects and Dark Places before Gone Girl!

Social media was my resource to grow my audience and appeal widely to book lovers looking to discover their next favourite author. The pressure I’d put on myself to post daily, around the same time, with new and fresh content that didn’t feel like I was shoving my book down people’s throats was overwhelming. Particularly for someone untrained in this area. But I knew I needed to keep the conversation about my book going long after the initial attention was over.

No surprise that it all got too much.

My husband is in IT and has been wholeheartedly against social media since the days of “TwitBook” as he likes to call it. He engages with none of it, despising the makers and their lack of values (special hello to you, Elon), along with the practice of selling private information (and a big wave to you, Mark Z). He didn’t understand the joy I’d gained from connecting with people online and then meeting some in real life. Particularly book lovers. Instead, he saw the spiralling of my mental health when other people posted their exciting news of shiny things. We all know comparison is the thief of joy, but I felt like my happiness was in an armed holdup.

Intellectually, I knew that people predominately posted the polished parts of their lives, but that rationale didn’t cut through the self-talk. I ruminated over the need to do better, hustle harder, achieve more and it was undermining my contentment. No doubt it was driving my family and friends insane too. (Sorry guys!)

Ask those friends and family and they will tell you I am someone who is intrinsically unfiltered. I don’t have a “game face”, I can’t “play by the rules” or “put on a show”. My face will not hide my feelings so there’s not much point trying. I aim for professionalism and measured responses, but it is imperative to me that I am authentic in all of my dealings. Unfortunately, when I tried to be honest about the ups and downs I’d had since my book came out, talking openly about my experience, things turned and my world was tipped upside down in a matter of days. Supporters of my honesty and peers in the industry called me brave, which I now know is code for stupid. They knew better than to raise concerns, to question.

Eventually, all this energy spent on what I thought I was supposed to be doing, and feeling like I was constantly getting it wrong, led to fatigue and what could only be described as an incoming meltdown—if that’s what you’d label crying in the laundry over a mountain of unfolded washing (domestic chores don’t magically vanish when you are a published author it seems).

The dream to be published by a “Big 5” publisher had been realised but the goalposts kept shifting. By measuring my own success in accolades and bestseller badges, I was robbing myself of the simple pleasures: seeing my book on a shelf and more importantly, in the hands of readers. Burnout is a problem in any arena, but losing the love of writing was my biggest fear.

So, I stepped away. To regroup. To remind myself why I write and to reassess what it is I want from this publishing dream, this writerly life.

A pause on Instagram

I chose to bring it back to writing but, in the meantime, I scheduled exciting things to help me concentrate on building myself as an author. I engaged Fresh Web Design to help revamp my website. It was fun to work together on a bright new look and to ponder opportunities to grow my readership on my own terms.

I thought deeply about the value of a newsletter and how returning to basics, writing down my thoughts, and getting back to who I truly am (dare I say that much-despised term “my authentic self”) might mean I find the thrill again. It might also mean I’m less of a bitter, twisted, raging lunatic to be around (that’s your cue to yell “I hope not!”).

And I sunk my teeth into my third novel—tackling the tricky subject of coercive control—and although it is hard going in terms of emotional content, I couldn’t be loving the first draft process more!

Instead of focusing on what I wished I had, I channelled my energy to the words on the page and asked myself why I write.

I write for my readers. I write to tell stories that matter, that mean something to me and hopefully, the person who has chosen to spend their time reading my books. I write about women, the barriers we face, and topics that affect us. And these are important stories to tell. Worthy stories.

I am venturing back to social media but in a much more thoughtful way. I will not endlessly scroll. I’ll carefully celebrate other people’s triumphs without taking a hit to my own confidence. I will not lose valuable time comparing and obsessing. I will post and engage in a limited and more deliberate way, and I will furiously guard my mental health if I feel I am again spiralling into that negative space.

And whether my books continue to be published when I’m in my fifties and sixties, or whether social media plays a part in spreading the word, I have little control over. But I can control my thoughts (or so my psychologist says).

And the words.

KOx

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