The art of managing an unintended weight

There’s been an ongoing conversation taking place between more established & emerging authors; particularly amongst women in Christian publishing spaces. Let’ talk about it.

Now. Before I get started, please bear a few things in mind. I have an itty-bitty platform. Zero influence. Zero famous friends. Zero podcast listeners. I am a caregiver mom to four medically fragile kids and a hospital chaplain in training…. So, the opposite of an influencer. I’m not attending seminary to preach or start a ministry; I’m attending seminary so that I can come alongside individuals one at a time really really well.

But as I pen this message that is near and dear to my heart (If you haven’t heard, I’m writing my first book! yay!), I’m acutely aware that at some point I will actually have to market this sucker…And truthfully, that thought makes me want to vomit. I know I’ll have to ask for recs and reviews. I know I’ll need some support from folks with a platform larger than mine. I know I’ll need to grow in the meantime. The anxiety from all of that cannot be understated.

But as an emerging author, particularly as a woman, I’d like to share something with my more established sisters. Again, I’m a nobody, so take it or leave it. And I know you already know this, because you’ve been where I am now…

But authors like me, desperately want our sisters who’ve inspired us to affirm us and welcome us into this world. We want to feel connected. In the same way that ordination signifies a connection to the apostolic tradition, using our gifts in similar ways evokes a sense of solidarity amongst writers.

Yet sometimes, when newbies like me begin searching for a door, a window— any semblance of a way into this world— all we’re met with is a wall. A very prominent wall.

And from my vantage point, I do think some of this is systemic and gendered. Let’s talk about it.

In my experience (particularly in more academic spaces) I’ve noticed that men just ask their buddies for advice. There are more opportunities for mentorships, internships, networking and relationship building, proportionately speaking.

But it seems like for women, not only are those opportunities limited simply because there are less women in those spaces, but the women that are already doing twice the amount of work for quite a bit less pay AND fending off regular attacks from the theobros, are completely and utterly exhausted.

Yes, this is an overgeneralization.

nuance nuance.

But what I’m saying is, I get it. I know you’re under a ton of pressure, your workload is insane, and some of y’all are still expected to be wives, mothers, caregivers and homemakers. You’re editing manuscripts in the carpool line. You’re taking meetings on the sideline of your kid’s soccer game. I see you. I see you putting in the work.

And I think that all of these factors and more contribute to the reality that writing expertise in the forms of things like paying communities and mentorships are often disproportionately monetized along gender lines… all of which leads me to think that perhaps… this is much larger than an “individual bandwidth, boundaries, & self-care” kind of issue, but it’s actually something more systemic.

Something I’ve noticed in my own writing journey, is that there have been instances where the more established male authors around me have been more willing to provide resources to me than the women, which I find interesting. In fact, to them, requests for help haven’t seemed like a big deal at all. But asking a woman, sometimes feels risky. Because you KNOW she’s got the weight of the world squarely on her shoulders. So oftentimes I don’t ask.

But you know what? I wish I had. I wish it didn’t feel like a big deal.

Now. Zero shade to the women who are monetizing their expertise. You deserve to be paid. Y’all have worked hard, and I have all the respect in the world for what you’ve accomplished. This tension isn’t the fault of the more established female authors, but I do think they should pay attention, because this dynamic does disproportionately affect less established female authors (particularly disabled & bipoc women). We’ve all noticed that social media has changed. People don’t use it the same way they did 2, 5, and 10 years ago. We’re all navigating the changes in real time. The least we can do for one another is figure it out in community.

Do I ever expect someone to respond to a message I send or work for free? NO. Absolutely not. When I reach out, I really try to respect the humanity of the person on the other end. And if that person doesn’t respond back, I get it. But the meanness, the dismissiveness, is not where it’s at. Based on the discourse, it looks like I’m not the only one who has experienced this firsthand. (and on the flip side, less established authors we also cannot lash out and shame authors for not providing a particular response).

I’m not offering solutions here. Just my own perspective.

But gosh it is terrifying to reach out to someone who identifies as a Christian and writes Christian books and bible studies and simultaneously wonder “am I going to be treated like a human?” or will I be belittled for not choosing to pay $139 a year to be a member of the club. Yet how else is a woman like me supposed to build relationships in this world if the entry fee to the conference is out of my price range, and I can’t travel because my kid has therapy or surgery?

To my sisters who are ahead of me, I’m not asking you to change anything. I don’t want to make the burden any heavier for you, believe me.

But I do hope you’ll remain aware of the influence you’re stewarding, not just for your podcast guests and listeners and readers and Instagram followers…. but the influence you’re stewarding amongst those that you are quite literally inspiring to “go and do likewise.” I hope you’ll remain aware of how powerful your words really are, because ultimately, we don’t want to just be your followers, we want to become your peers. We want to join you. We want to be contributors. We want to be faithful to the work the Lord has called us to do, and we can’t do it alone.

There’s enough room for all of us. Promise. After all, what do we avid readers do when we run out of space for our books? We buy another shelf! We make room. And I hope you’ll think of us less as a burden, but maybe just maybe, some of what the women like me share in the future, might encourage you too.

Ultimately, the us vs. them mentality is unhelpful, and I truly hope that the presence of more women writing and discipling and teaching and preaching and leading will lighten the load and refresh the souls of all of the women that are currently carrying an unintended weight.

And in the meantime, I hope we can look for creative ways to encourage one another, be mindful of our shared humanity, and advocate for one another well. Us newbies sure are grateful for the women who are doing this already. It means the world to us.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for staying. If you have any wisdom to share, I’d sure love to hear it. Feel free to keep the conversation going below. But I’m not afraid to admit that I’m daydreaming of a better way to do things, a more Christ-like way to get our words out into the world, and I look forward to welcoming more women into this work when it’s my turn to hold the door open.

Liz