3 Reasons Not to Romanticize Working in Publishing

3 Reasons Not to Romanticize Working in Publishing

So many of us readers dream of working in the publishing industry. We romanticize talking with authors over coffee and reading manuscripts in front of sunny windows or cozy fireplaces. We love books. We figure working in the industry will lead to a fulfilling career.

I had once thought so too.

Over a month ago now, I left my supposed dream job in publishing. I worked for years and years to get to a senior level in my career, in my chosen industry. I worked with talented people. I did great work. I made even greater money. Yet I resigned during a time when job postings are easy to come by but job offers aren’t.

So why did I leave my dream job? Because it wasn’t a dream. It was a job, and the job I worked my ass off for no longer brought me psychological safety, let alone fulfillment.

My disillusionment with publishing boils down to a few hard-learned truths. If you’re planning to work in publishing, let these truths remind you that the publishing industry is just that: an industry. Romanticizing publishing, like I had, can cause more harm than good for both your career and your wellbeing.

3 Reasons Not to Romanticize Working in Publishing

1. Publishing is not built on altruism.

While my first stint into publishing was for the nonprofit intersectional feminist publisher Kore Press, most publishers aren’t nonprofits. The largest publishers certainly aren’t. They exist to make a profit, and they publish books they project will make them a profit. 

Publishers are also not libraries. They don’t exist to serve their communities or their staff for that matter. (Please support your local library. Haven’t been to your local library? Find the library in your area.) Publishers exist to make money, no matter what their do-good mission statement says. 

I’ve witnessed publishers base their charitable giving efforts entirely on return. I’ve witnessed publishers focus their marketing budget on the few titles by authors with large social media followings. I’ve witnessed publishers assign additional workload on staff to avoid rehiring for a position. Capitalism is king, even within—especially within—the publishing industry.

You might feel loyalty to the publisher you work for because you believe in the product (books), but publishers don’t promise loyalty to their staff. It’s not personal. It’s business. Don’t delude yourself like I did by believing your employment is more than that.

2. Publishing is not solely composed of altruistic people.

You may be thinking, “That’s no earth-shattering revelation. I’m sure more altruistic people work in publishing, though, than in an industry like tech or real estate.”

Well, I don’t have any quantitative data on that, but no industry is completely made up of altruistic people. While I can attest to knowing many altruistic people within publishing, I can also attest to knowing unkind and self-seeking people as well. I found that out fast the first time I interviewed with a publisher. The owner told me I was attractive and that he should get a picture of me in front of their building’s sign, then proceeded to downplay the #MeToo movement. I’ve had similar and worse offhand comments said to me since. I’ve witnessed countless unprofessional interactions amongst publishing professionals. Degrading people until they cry. Storming off early from meetings. Intentionally cutting people off when they’re trying to share an idea.

People in publishing (predominately white, straight, and non-disabled people, according to the most recent Lee & Low report) aren’t better than people in other industries. Don’t enter the publishing industry with the belief that publishing is devoid of assholes. No industry is devoid of assholes. 

3. Publishing professionals also experience burnout.

I was an editor. I managed social media accounts and designed graphics. I led sales and marketing teams. I negotiated licensing deals, as well as contracts with foreign publishers. I oversaw customer relations, publicity, advertising, print run estimates, metadata. I’ve just about done it all in publishing.

I’ve also been worked into the ground. Or, rather, into my walking pad below my standing desk. I pulled so many 12+ hour days that I bought both in an effort to stay active. I sometimes started work at 5am. I sometimes (oftentimes) worked through lunch. I sometimes was on calls until after 8pm on Fridays. I sometimes took work calls at the gym or during an appointment. I cancelled appointments to work. I declined dinners with my family to work. I sometimes worked until 12am on my couch. 

Before working in publishing, I detested people like the person I became at my last publishing job. I used to think, “Get a personal life!” and, “You must not be very good at your job or seriously lack time management skills if you can’t end your day at 5pm.” Except I could fix poor time management skills. Hell, I could even fix not being good at my job. No matter how hard I worked, no matter how long I worked, I couldn’t change the aforementioned truths.

Employee burnout is a problem across industries. More people are experiencing burnout, and 53% of remote workers work more hours than they did when working in person, according to Indeed’s employee burnout report. Harvard Business Review reports that over 53% of managers are experiencing burnout. If you think publishers are immune from pushing employees to burnout, I’m proof that’s not the case.

You might be more susceptible to burnout because of your passion for publishing. You believe in and love books, like me, so you may start working extra hours here and there until you’ve lost all concept of a work-life balance. The phrase, “Find a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life” should be, “Find a job you love, and if you’re not careful, you will work until you no longer have a life.”

Your joy of reading doesn’t have to lead to a job in publishing, but if it does, I hope your job in publishing never leads you to stop reading. To stop doing what makes you happy. To stop living.

Over time, my dream job became my nightmare, and I’m trying to find my joy again—not just for reading but for living.

What’s next for me? Do I plan to still work in publishing? I honestly don’t know, though I thought I would by now. I’m still burned out.

In the meantime, support me by buying my book and reading journal.

Keep up with me each week as I figure out what’s next.

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