The Love-Hate Relationship with Publishing: Writing vs. Promotion

Let’s be honest—writing is magical. It’s an escape, a liberation, a way to build worlds out of nothing but thought and feeling. Few things compare to the thrill of crafting a story that flows from your imagination to the page. But there’s a shadow trailing that magic: publishing and promotion. And if I’m being fully transparent, I hate that part.

You pour yourself into your manuscript. You write, rewrite, revise, and polish until your characters feel real and your prose sings. Then comes the soul-sucking pivot: switching from creator to marketer.

Querying agents feels like navigating a maze with one eye closed and the other weeping from exhaustion. Research agents. Tailor each query. Wait. Hope. Get rejected. Repeat. It’s a grind that can break even the most enthusiastic writer. And if you go the self-publishing route? Congratulations, you’re now a publisher, marketer, and distributor—all rolled into one.

Once upon a time, I loved Twitter. It was a great place to connect with readers and fellow writers. But then—poof—I lost my account. Just like that. No warning, no recourse.

Losing that platform was more than just a digital hiccup; it was a gut punch. In today’s publishing landscape, your online presence is your storefront. When it vanishes, you’re suddenly invisible. Rebuilding that presence takes time, energy, and emotional bandwidth most of us don’t have to spare.

And yet—we continue. We write because we must. Because even when the business of books grinds us down, the act of writing lifts us up.

Yes, publishing is tedious. Promotion can be draining. But they’re the price we pay to share our stories. And every reader touched, every message received, every moment someone gets lost in your words? That’s the reward.

So to every writer out there: keep querying, keep rebuilding, keep creating. The spark that started you on this journey is still there, flickering or blazing. Tend to it. Fight for it. And never let the noise of the industry drown out the joy of the craft.

Until next time—keep writing. Your words are worth it.

A middle-aged chef with salt-and-pepper hair and a short beard stands against a beige background, wearing a black double-breasted chef’s jacket. He holds a stack of papers in one hand and scratches his head with the other, looking uncertain and slightly frustrated as he studies the manuscript.

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