On doing the writing juggle.
Earlier this week I did a launch of my forthcoming book on Russell T Davies (see here). Meanwhile, on Twitter, I launched (softly) my book on Rent. Which frankly looks like I’m both utterly smashing it and writing with the speed and veracity of Alexander Hamilton.
But I wanted to lift the lid on what that looks like behind the scenes. And indeed how we even got to the point of two books out this year and another next, when you know I’m not an influencer with several ghostwriters and a big-budget editorial team. (Sadly I’m not, however, if someone wants to pay me to write some famouses ‘autobiography’ I’m nosy, and have no shame I would do it).
So at the risk of doing what a troll accused me of a few weeks ago and ‘doing nothing but moaning’ (I called him a fucking fucktwit ferret out loud it helped), here’s how we ended up here.
Firstly, it’s not normal to have done one short book in 2021, an academic book in 2022, and two trade/indie press nonfiction books in 2023, with another ready to go in early 2024. I repeat this is not normal, and it’s largely the result of publishing delays and accidental overalls (and to give myself credit some hustling and frantic writing on my behalf).
To break it down, my first book was my second. Let me explain. My first book out was the little Schitt’s Creek bebe in 2021. That was a super fast turnaround as it’s a little book of 12k, and the point of the Inklings series is fast, short, giving an opportunity to get a book out there, all good things (do submit to them next time they put out a call). That happened AFTER I’d finished my ‘first’ book; my academic book on Angels in America. I got the contract for that way back in 2019. That’s right, that book took three years from contract to publication. Now firstly, academic presses are not known for lightning speed. Secondly, I had to delay writing it because my employment situation was so precarious, thirdly, global pandemic, and fourthly got ghosted by both a peer reviewer and then had a shoddy copyedit (the publisher’s words not mine). Basically, it was a perfect storm of delays. So your first book becomes your second and then is far closer to the second (now third) than planned.
Now what of this bottleneck of books? Well, the Rent book is also delayed. It should have been out last November and is currently due THIS November. It’s a whole saga, a drama worthy of Mark reporting it at buzzline, but that’s a saga for another day. The point is that I was re-writing and doing the admin for that book while doing it for TWO others. That should have worked fine- the drafts went in six months apart, so the gap between big things like a developmental edit and the period of heavy admin (images, copy edits, permission admins all the fun stuff) should have been manageable. But of course, life doesn’t work that way- and the process of editing one kicked off three weeks after another, so they were coming back at me constantly in tandem for four months.
Between March and June, I’ve not (and I’m not exaggerating here) had more than two days where some new book-related deadline hasn’t dropped into my inbox. It was full-on book whack-a-mole here. Every time I’d get rid of one urgent deadline or a huge piece of work, another would arrive. And I never want to disappoint anyone or look less than hardworking, so I did it. But obviously, too, these are my book babies, I want them to be as perfect as can be. And that’s hard when you’re playing book whack-a-mole. On top of the course, of holding down a job, freelance teaching, theatre reviews and occasionally real-life…it’s a juggle. And one this time I’m not afraid to say did nearly break me.
This was an unusual situation, and not one I’d plan on again, but I think it’s worth talking about- us as low-level authors (by which I mean average, indie, and academic authors, not, you know, David-Fucking-Walliams), are doing a lot of work beyond the book, while also working to allow us to write the book. And I don’t think people know what else goes into it. Beyond the sheer admin of it- answering emails, doing things like double checking permissions, sourcing images, checking and double checking references, indexing, that sort of thing… you do what, three rounds of editing after you’ve written and edited it yourself (admittedly, each takes less time, obviously). If you’re lucky too, you also have a say in cover images, approving press releases and summaries, all the little bits and bobs that help make it fabulous and work. And that’s all before you start planning to market the thing so that people get to read it.
It’s a lot. And it’s a huge privilege, but while it is a huge privilege to be an author (look mum I’m an author), we should respect the fact that it is work, in the writing of it and beyond. A reminder, too, that all of this is around a day job. I’m incredibly lucky to have an understanding day job that is flexible enough to answer a cheeky email in my workday, or request a couple of hours off and make them up later for a meeting. I’m even luckier that my manager is a writer too and gets the juggle. I’m also lucky that I work four days of week so I have just enough flexibility while still earning enough to make this happen. Honestly, I wouldn’t have survived the last few months if I hadn't been in this job. I say all this so people know, I’m not some superhuman person, I’m a very tired person with just enough advantage in my situation to make this work.
On the subject of ‘writing is work,’ I’d also add: not all of it is fun. Look I’m sure some people enjoy putting together an index, but I am not those people. Similarly, the things like double-checking references, and proofreading for the 300th time…none of these are any more fun than working on my funder budgets in my ‘day job’ sometimes…work is work. Personally, also for reasons I cannot explain, I’ve learned I truly loathe sourcing images for books. Love a cover design moment, cannot stand searching for images for hours.
This brings me to say too; it’s ok to talk about not all of it is fun. This is a literal dream come true, to have books going out in the world, but that doesn’t mean it’s always a joy from the long hours of the more tedious elements of writing to the emotional ups and downs. You put so much of yourself into something that it’s bound to end with disappointment, frustration, and heartbreak. I cannot tell you how heartbroken I was this time a year ago when my Rent book fell to pieces overnight. And it’s isolating too. Everyone loves to hear about the shiny book at the end; nobody really cares when you’re re-writing chapter five for the fifteenth time. I’m lucky to have close friends who do this nonsense too, but even so, some days it’s just me my screen, and questioning my life choices.
I think, too, the emotional, and mental toll is something to acknowledge, especially in non-fiction, which has less of that creative ‘wrenching it from my very soul’ reputation of fiction. As someone who does both, I firmly say that non-fiction exhausts me more emotionally. Not least because I have picked less than cheery topics, but also because you’re dealing with history, telling these stories properly, and telling people’s stories. That’s pressure, whether you realise it every day or not. And the pressure on yourself to do better than the last book, write better, get a better publisher, sell more copies, get on a cool podcast, whatever it might be.
It also inevitably alters your relationship with what you write about. You can’t spend as long as I do to write a book staring at something, analysing its every word, and nuance and not have your relationship altered by it. Just for fun (!) let’s look at my relationship with the things I’ve written books on.
Angels in America. I never ‘fell out of love’ with this one. I did, however get VERY depressed. This, interestingly is something I talked about with Marianne Elliott about directing the piece- you get so absorbed in their world, and you don’t quite realise how the sadness of it creeps in. And I was writing this book at the height of another pandemic. And well, it didn’t go so well for me. As a result of this book, I take a critical eye to Kushner, I’m the first to trash talk the more batshit elements and beg him to cut an hour from the thing. But I love it, I do, with all my messy theatrical heart. And that never changed.
Schitt’s Creek. Writing the first book; joy pure joy. I got to express all the deeply nerdy things that I never got to say out loud and I LOVED every second. (even if my more dirty references were edited out for good taste)
Writing the second book: I went from love to hate to indifference to fondness. And that’s where I’m sitting. I’ll never get back to that firey first love, but actually somewhat like David and Patrick by now, I’m sitting in fond love and affection with it. That’s more to do with external noise. Around November 2021 (ahem, IYKYK), I fell deep out of love…with the fandom and by association the show. I had some pretty toxic experiences and I wanted as far away as possible. Luckily the book was done by then and I could put it aside. I couldn’t even face watching it anymore. Eventually, it was the book that brought my love back. Now distant from external noise in redrafting the book earlier this year, I remembered all the things I loved about the show and why I needed to say the things I do. I’ve also reached a lovely balance of engaging with fans who are friends and acquaintances and tuning out the wider noise. And thanks to having the book I love the thing again.
Rent- this one breaks my heart it really does. Anyone who knows me knows this book comes from a place of pure love. Of nostalgia, and thankfulness for all this musical gave me. This show shaped, made, and comforted me…it has my heart firmly. But I still feel like the show broke up with me. I’m Mark after Maureen dumped him, and they’re not quite friends again yet. It’s not the same for me and Rent, and it breaks my heart. I know really it’s about the experiences I’ve gone through with this book, and that I’m pre-empting when it comes out. I know it’s not about me and the show, but that love is forever a bit tarnished, but I hope maybe by the time I get to share it with folks, I’ll win a little back- I worked with a youth theatre this year, and reignited some of that passion, I get to work with an Amdram company when the book comes out. And that, these real experiences of the musical are what keep me from breaking up with it completely. I might not love it the same, but there’s still something there.
Russell T Davies. In contrast, what a joy, what a joy. I can honestly say there is not a moment of this book that made me dislike anything he’d done, or made me like anything less. Everything made me love it more, appreciate it more, and just be joyous that I got to delve into this writer's world more. I cannot express just how much fun I had writing this. And how fascinating revisiting the work was. Still love the big dude, had a lovely time, no notes (only Daleks).
It’s a rollercoaster. My books are part of me, and they link to important things in my life, and embracing the emotional impact of that is also important. As is the impact of writing them. For me that’s what makes it worth - I always said of my PhD I could never have done it on something I didn’t care about. And the reason I’ve worked so hard to get these books out there is a love of what I do and a desire to share it. Long may it continue, but also this is a recgonition that it isn’t easy, and I wouldn’t want anyone to look at me as I often do to others and think ‘oh well they’ve got it all going for them.’ it looks really cool from a distance I’m sure, but it’s taken hard work, and at times a lot of tears to get this far.
And as for editing three books at once? 100% do not recommend. One thing I have learned is that as an author I have both more and less agency than you’d think. At times I’m powerless, at the mercy of external forces. But also? There’s always a little wriggle room. If you work with good people, are consistent in what you bring people will give you grace- its in everyone’s interest after all not to write a crap book because you were too pushed for time. And the good people who support you in that are worth a million higher-profile publsiehrs and editors (and that’s all I have to say about that).
This isn’t meant as a moan, though I’m sure my little troll friend will find a way to say it is. It’s about lifting the lid a bit, about honesty. And honestly, these last few months burnt me out. As I’ve come to the tail end of it, I’ve found myself constantly exhausted but in that brain-exhausted way. It’s been impossible even to blog. My fiction project is usually my refuge; at the end of the day, I’ve struggled to string two words together. And my brain feels like mush constantly. It’ll be fine, I’ve got a lull now (famous last words) before the Autumn and things ramping up again. I’ve got new projects to energise me (and start the cycle again on). And most excitingly books! Books in the world! But I acknowledge what it took to get them there, even if just for myself.