What If There Is Another Way?

Monday Missives #17

“What’s your platform?”

As soon as that question hits my ears, all I can hear is, “Who are you—out there, in the world?” And to that question, the response that bubbles up inside me would be, “Me. I am me. Out here. In the world.”

Instead, I say, “I have a Substack and I just launched a podcast.”

“How many subscribers do you have?”

My heart sinks down all the way into my gut. Or is it that my rib cage rises up and chokes off my neck? Either way, my mind scrambles to answer the question. But when I open my mouth, a word salad threatens to tumble out so I wrestle it down with a slightly better, “Well, so, I, um…”

After two more, very awkward, “when can I click on ‘Leave’ at the bottom of the Zoom screen” minutes, the pitch meeting is done, and I lean back into my desk chair. And bawl.

A few minutes later, I get up, put on my shoes, and go for a walk. And bawl.

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This “pitching what I have done” that includes “promoting what I do” and “selling what I make,” which essentially means “pitching, promoting and selling who I am,” is my least favorite part of being an independent artist. I mean, I make stuff and I hope people find it. Besides, it was hard enough to launch all the new things I am doing and turn on paid subscriptions. Directly asking people to subscribe or pay for what I make, never mind asking them to share it with other people, feels…wrong. No, it feels bad. But it’s not the “this is how I make a living” part or the “I want what I make to reach as many people as possible” part that seems bad. No, it’s the “sorry to bother you with a request I have while you’re busy living your life” part. Oh, the ask is what holds shame. But why? What is so wrong or bad about talking about what I do, and inviting people to support me in it?

I mean, if I were starting up a consulting business in, I don’t know, let’s just say, supply chain or, better yet, customer service for manufacturing companies (after all, I have ten years of management experience in that sector and field), I would also need to pitch, promote and sell what I do. But somehow, that sounds more acceptable. Maybe because I would be selling a service and my experience, not a thing I make after a twenty-five-year hiatus. Maybe because being a consultant is more…serious? and therefore…valid? It certainly sounds more…professional. And therefore adult. Wow. Does that mean I still, somewhere deep down in me, believe the lie that being a full-time artist is somehow childish? Probably. Ok, definitely.

While I am tempted to say that this discomfort, or fear of—no, this aversion to being a champion for myself is something new, the truth is, it is older than dirt. It’s not like I stood for myself or my accomplishments when I was working in corporate America. Or in the arts, even tangentially, before that. And it would be just as hard for me to pitch, promote, and sell myself as an operations or supply chain or customer service consultant. The only difference is that while I would hate being a corporate consultant, you would probably think that path is way more appropriate for someone like me—a fifty-one year-old woman starting over in life. At least, that’s what I think you will think.

Because underneath it’s not a question about whether or not I believe I have the right to be here (on Substack) or to call myself a writer and now also a podcaster (I refer to myself as both all the time now without thinking about it too much). It is really a question about whether I am allowed to take up any kind of space (because, who do I think I am to feel entitled to space, here, there, or anywhere that could, or should, go to somebody else). It is really a question about whether I really want to be seen or heard (because with that comes the risk of saying or doing the wrong thing, upsetting somebody or hurting their feelings, and, if I do either, that person will leave and I will be left standing here alone, in the cold). And, much more fundamentally, it is a question about whether I have the right to exist—at all.

That last question is the one I really dig into in my memoir, Beyond the Wall. I write about some of the reasons why I feel that way, where these questions come from in the first place, and how I spent a lifetime counting myself out (by choice) rather than cheering myself on. It is a story that could really be about anybody, whether or not he/she/they are entering middle age or not. I believe in this book. I am proud of this book. And I want this book and the story it tells to be out here, in the world.

But now that it is time to sell it, it means I get to start here and ask you, the reader, or you, the listener, to not only spend your time and your money on something I made, but to also tell someone else about it.

That’s the point at which all this gets super uncomfortable for me. So much so that I even hesitate to reach out to my friends or my network to ask them for help in getting the word out. Even when they have already offered…and I already yes, please and thank you. In fact, over the weekend, I wrote several texts that I never sent and typed up a few emails that are still only drafts. I don’t want to ask anyone to do anything for me.

Because what if you think I am pushy, demanding or…yep, you guessed it, too much. What if you say “no, I don’t want to help you,” or worse, what if you turn around and leave. The fear of you outright dismissing me (not what I do, but me) tells me it’s not worth the discomfort of asking because it’s definitely not worth the heartbreak that will come when you turn your back on me. No, it is easier for me to throw in the towel, give up and walk away. Or, to say it another way: I will abandon you before you can abandon me but not before I abandon myself.

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Besides, for me, writing here and doing a podcast is not about building a platform. Ok, yes, that is part of it (after all, I would like to get paid for the work I do). But it is bigger than that. I do it because it’s who I am. I do it because it is my mission to help other people (especially women) feel seen and to help more of their voices be heard. And any time I think about what else I could do, I cannot come up with anything. There is nothing else. This is it. That’s why I pushed all the chips I have into the center of the table. I am all in. On me.

But it’s one thing to say that to myself or privately to one of my close friends. It’s a whole other thing to write about it, put it up here, and ponder it in the wide open. And yet, not doing that would not be authentic to who I am. And it is important to me that any platform I build (here, on social media or out there talking to people in real life, in person or on Zoom) reflects all of who I am—my doubts and fears, my hopes and dreams, and my failures and successes. I have arrived at place in this journey where I would rather invite you to embrace me for all of who I am rather than worry that you will reject me for me for who I pretend to be.

Which brings me back to my book. I would like to think of Beyond the Wall as being separate from me, because when I do that, it is easier for me to work tirelessly and fearlessly to get it published. But that book, in many ways, holds who I am. It is not separate from me. It is me. And if those words are there to help others be seen and be heard, well, then, let it begin with me.

So, today, I will lean into all the discomfort I feel around pitching, promoting and selling. I will experience the rejection, bawl my eyes out, and phone a friend. And then I will show up for any meeting I get invited to attend, any writing I get asked to submit, and any connection I get offered to make. Because that is how the people who are meant to help me will find me, and, when they do, be the people who push their chips into the center of the table right along with me. They are the people who are all in on me too.

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Special thank you to Writing Away Refuge led by Lee Ann Ward. Lee Ann offers many different kinds of classes, workshops and services to writers, including the live pitch events with agents that I get to attend. She is on a mission not only to give writers the kind of assistance she wishes she had when she started out, but also to make it affordable (her prices are beyond reasonable). Oh, and I know about her because a friend referred me to her and she uses her platform to promote and talk about what she does. Really, she lets us see and hear who she is.

In what ways do you struggle to be a champion for yourself?

Meals Out: Water Street Kitchen (yep, again) This time is was lunch on Friday (I was holed up at home all weekend and in the Writing Away Refuge workshops in the mornings and pitching agents in the afternoon).

Listening (voice): Boss Class from The Economist—the new season of a great podcast is out but it does require a subscription. So, you might want to listen to the trailer to decide for yourself if it’s worth the investment.

Listening (song most likely on repeat): End of the World, Miley Cyrus. (It is just such a great pop song).

Watching: The Brokenwood Mysteries on Amazon Prime with Acorn subscription (currently watching the newly released Season 11 of this perfectly quirky New Zealand murder mystery series).

Reading: Nothing super long. Just a few articles. Most notably, Gen X may be the most unfortunate generation. And of course, being Gen X, I have a lot of thoughts about the title and the article (my favorite line is: “Gen Xers are reluctant to be corporate drones, placing more emphasis on work-life balance and autonomy.” Um, yep), but I will leave that for another time.

Most Hours Logged Doing: Practicing my pitch, learning from other authors about the craft of writing, live pitching agents, bawling my eyes out and pitching some more agents.

Monday Morning Meditation: 5.19.25

“You do not need to attempt to force anything. Love is practiced and knows the way. Do not underestimate what love can accomplish.” — quote from 333 Oracle of Heart Wisdom by Alana Fairchild

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You may have noticed that I have included many different ways throughout the post for you to get the word out, send me a message, pay for a subscription or leave a comment.

I also have a referral program up and running so I invite you check that out and share that link with others and invite them to subscribe. And of course, feel free to become a paid subscriber (20% off through the end of May if you use this link!) and get future access to new pieces in the sections that will be behind a paywall (working on a new piece that I will publish in “From the Vault” soon).

There. I did it. I asked you for help. And I feel pretty good about it.