Changing My Perspective on Self-Promotion

Well, trying to, anyway.

Mingirov/Getty Images

Every time I think I’m ready to stop apologizing or seeking permission for the self-promotion I need to do to stay afloat, I land back in my default position on the matter: shame.

Then I write about it cathartically, mostly here, making sure everyone knows that what might look like nonstop shameless self-promotion is me holding my nose and reluctantly putting myself out there, not because I want to, but because I have to. If I don’t do it, no one else will, and then all my hard work publishing two magazines week-in-and-week-out (8 to 10 posts/week) will amount to naught, and I’ll have no way to support myself, nor continue paying the writers who contribute to my publications.

I know—I’ve touched on this subject a lot in this newsletter, I think because promoting my (good, goddammit!) work is something I really want to come around to being okay with—something I am theoretically okay with—but an attitude I keep falling short of actually owning.

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In my struggle to move past my shame, recently I’ve paid close attention to the writers, publishers, and publicists who’ve boldly pitched me, and noticed that they don’t seem to share my reluctance or dread. They pitch me, and re-pitch me, and if I pause for even a few days before responding, they come right back and remind me that they have something they’re proud of, which they’d like me to share with my big audience. (Said “big audience”: I now have over 104K subscribers over three newsletters.

Oldster Magazine

has just over 67K subscribers;

Memoir Land

has nearly 35K subscribers; and this newsletter has over 2,600 subscribers. *Ducks.* )

I don’t judge the people pitching me for promoting their work. So why do I judge myself? Or assume others are judging me for it?

I’ve also lately paid close attention to some of the newsletter publishers who are more successful at garnering outside publicity than I am, and noticed that they don’t apologize or seek permission when they promote their work. They just come out confidently swinging, with a certain self-possessed swagger, and it keeps them in the spotlight.

I asked someone at Substack about one of those shamelessly self-promotional newsletter publishers—who’s been featured far and wide as a “Substack star,” despite having only about half of the subscribers I do. The Substack person told me that one reason that particular newsletter publisher’s work was so well covered was that they’d hired an outside publicist. They suggested I do the same, but a) it’s expensive, and in order to afford that, I’d have to pay myself and writers less, b) it’s a gamble; just because a publicist is pitching you doesn’t mean you’ll garner meaningful coverage; and c) it feels like a bridge too far for someone who is publicity averse to go to that length.

I don’t judge the people pitching me for promoting their work. So why do I judge myself? Or assume others are judging me for it?

I mean, as much as I hate hate hate acting as my own publicist—because I’m afraid to seem over-confident or self-important or stuck up as the mean kids in junior high called me any time I achieved in any visible way (or as I imagine the media gatekeepers who once admonished “don’t retweet praise” might see me)—hiring a professional to handle your promotion seems like even more of an expression of all that. Who the hell am I to think my work not only warrants promotion, but promotion by a hired professional?

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In the past month or so I’ve tried to use others’ examples to embolden myself. I’ve pitched myself and my work and the story of Botton, Ink. (my one-woman “media empire,”) to some big editors at top outlets. After sending each of the emails, I found myself so deeply mired in self-doubt and self-recrimination, I thought I might vomit. I haven’t heard back from any of them, and I probably never will. Which makes it even more challenging for me to do yet more to promote my work—which I’ll need to do, now that I’m adding some new features, and hopefully a live Oldster event in the fall.

So, so-far my attempts at emboldening myself are proving painful and not all that productive. Hell, today I had a major crisis of confidence after responding to another editor’s pitch to me with a pitch of my own. Why???

There are a lot of reasons why—and maybe I’d do better to hire a shrink or a life coach to get to the bottom of this—but what does it matter? I may never come around to feeling good about promoting my work. But that doesn’t make it any less of an essential endeavor. So I’ll keep trying to change my perspective on it, and in the mean time, keep faking it till I (hopefully) make it.

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In other news…

• On Monday, June 9th, I’ll be on a panel called “Writing Midlife” moderated by

  Ramona At Midlife
  filmmaker
  Brooke Berman
  at Bookclub Bar in the East Village. Details TK.

• Have I mentioned the audio version of my memoir was recently published? (*Ducks.*)