Promoting your own work is embarrassing

Social anxiety + trying to hype up my book = a lot of nervous sweating

It was 40 minutes before I had to be at the venue for my book launch party, and just under two hours until the party actually started. And instead of doing our makeup and fixing our hair like I’d promised my BFF we would, I was supine on my bed, an ice pack on my sternum and a YouTube breathing exercise on my phone.

In for one, two, three, four, hold…out for one, two, three, four.

I was having a bona-fide panic attack, but I couldn’t figure out why. I’d been stoked for my party for weeks. I’d had a lot of fun tracking down alien and UFO paraphernalia as decorations and party favors, and I’d just finished frosting a few dozen mini cupcakes with neon green buttercream and star-shaped sprinkles. My parents, sister, and childhood best friend had flown out, and all my closest friends in Arizona would be there. It was a massive privilege, I knew, to call so many of my loved ones to one space, especially just to celebrate me.

So why did I feel so miserable?

I reminded myself that I’d written and edited the perfect acknowledgements speech for mid-party, and my limbs went cold. I worried I’d puke. And it all became perfectly clear: It wasn’t the party I was anxious about. It was talking about “the work.”

Me, a couple hours into my party, having a fantastic time after all.

The party was a blast, for the record, but if there’s anything I’ve learned in the few weeks since, it’s that promoting your own work is supremely embarrassing. When Spotify asked me to shoot a vertical-scroll video introducing myself and describing my book, I complied, but I shooed my boyfriend out of the house first (no one was gonna witness me stutter through my first Reel on my watch) and sweated the whole way through. Last time I watched a YouTube video about how to market your debut novel, I had to drive to the gym after, desperate to work off the anxious energy. And just now, at my Monday evening writing group, a dear friend had to prompt me to mention my new book as we all introduced ourselves to a newcomer.

I’m convinced that if a genie offered me the gift of shameless self-promotion, I’d accept, no matter the catch.

But, as I repeated ad nauseum in my recent post about supporting creatives in non-financial ways, people can’t buy something they don’t know exists—which means I must suck it up and locate within me something of a #grindsetmindset. In an effort to make my life a little easier, I’ve been trying to figure out what is at the core of promotional embarrassment. After all, some people don’t struggle with it: plenty of creatives have either overcome it or skipped it altogether. But for those of us who do, I think there are three forces at play.

Here they are, in no particular order.

Personal vulnerability

Creativity requires agency, and agency inherently involves the self. (The choices we make, when we are free to choose, are based on our experiences, values, and desires.) As a journalist, I’ve had more than a thousand pieces of my writing published, but there’s little room for “you” in journalism. Fiction, on the other hand, has “me” written all over it. Which, yeah, is the point—but for the unaccustomed, it’s also super embarrassing to drop countless personal Easter eggs into a creative work that is supposed to reach as many people as possible.

Social anxiety

This is probably my biggest one. I’m learning in real time that my long struggle with social anxiety is far from over and that my personal brand of OCD touches more of my life than I once thought. I hate drawing attention to myself, and I am, without exaggeration, constantly worrying about how other people see me and how those perceptions could alter my relationships (present and future). And as self-obsessed as it is to assume people are constantly grading my behavior or reputation—people have their own lives to worry about, duh—stopping that assumption in its tracks is harder than it sounds.

So, despite the truly unfathomable amount of “content” internet users encounter whenever they hop online, I’m worried that my own is so cringe that it’s memorable enough for people to hate me for it. Worse, the posts and videos I make will be visible to my own circles and to strangers online. How do you reconcile the uncomfortable merging of your private and public selves?

Economic awareness

This one’s just getting uglier. Here in the United States, people are losing jobs, health insurance, and access to food left and right, and inflation, stagnant wages, and other forms of financial inequality are shoving families toward (or below) the poverty level in droves. Many of us who technically make comfortable incomes (and/or have blessedly low living expenses) are nevertheless stressing over grocery prices and the rising cost of utilities. It feels straight-up stupid to ask people to spend $5-7 on an audiobook under these conditions.

Pretty much the face I make when I think about any of this.

In the weeks since my book’s launch, I’ve tried to keep in mind that it is a gift to struggle with promotional embarrassment—that just a few seasons ago, I was distraught over the possibility that Those Lights at Night would die on my hard drive. It’s a blessing, I keep telling myself, to have something to promote. But that doesn’t necessarily make the jitters easier to avoid. It just adds some gratitude to the emotional mix.

I’m interested in doing a follow-up to this post after hearing from other self-promoting creatives; ideally, I can turn this sweaty experience into a learning opportunity for both myself and anyone else who struggles with publicizing their work. I already have plans to chat with a couple wonderful artists, but if you’d like to offer your two cents, please feel free to drop a comment below or message me directly!

What’s been inspiring me lately:

✰ Hervé Le Tellier’s stunning novel, The Anomaly. I’m not even finished with this yet, but the writing is gorgeous, and I can’t even remember the last time a book had me so at the edge of my seat. I almost don’t want to finish it, it’s so good.

✰ Jason Mott’s People Like Us, a work of autofiction packed with punchy voice and characterization. Parts of this novel made my heart hurt, in the best way.

✰ A cool art show my friends and I ran into during a day trip to Cottonwood, AZ. Called “Double Vision,” the event pairs photographers with painters, who select which photo they’d like to reimagine as a painting. Here are a few of my favorites! (Forgive the glare on some of the photos.)

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