The uneasiness of promoting your creative work as the world burns.

America might be speeding into fascism but look at my new book!

Two weeks ago, something excited happened.

Advanced Reader Copies (ARCs) of my new book, Zed Moonstein Makes a Friend, arrived on our doorstep. This meant I got to open a box and hold the physical manifestation of this thing I’ve been working on for so long. It’s always a gratifying moment, and this is the first book I’ve published without co-authors since 2019.

My older son filmed me opening the box—this is the very definition of “good author content for your socials,” after all—but I still haven’t posted the video on Instagram. Something about promoting my book during this ongoing cycle of stressful news has felt off. Like, “Hey, America might be descending into fascism in real time, but look at me and my new book coming out in August!”

Trust me, I recognize that this is not a practical stance to take. I see lots of artist friends promoting their work right now, and OF COURSE THEY SHOULD. That’s part of the job! We make art so that other people can find it and enjoy it and engage with it and allow us to make a living providing this essential (and often under-valued) service.

Art is arguably most essential at times like these, giving people an escape, a place to process, to reflect, to laugh, to feel things.

I know this. I really do. But, even during the best of times—when America has been merely deeply-problematic-but-stable—I have struggled with the self-promotional aspects of my creative careers, whether as author or actor. I love making things, but I do not love being the salesperson convincing people that I am worthy of consumption.

It’s one of the reasons I ultimately decided I wasn’t cut out for a career as an actor. The sheer amount of ego required to sell yourself every day, to knock on doors and say, “Pick me! I’m great!” over and over again to try and get hired was something I didn’t, and still don’t, have.

Through therapy, I’ve come to understand that this allergy to promoting myself is also a fear of vulnerability, a fear of being perceived as a jerk, a fear of rejection, a way of trying to maintain control over my life. If anything, there is, ironically, a narcissism at play in my deep desire to not be seen in a certain way, to avoid promoting myself or my work too hard because I’m scared it might make people think I’m unpleasant or egotistical.

Welcome to my brain. Isn’t it fun here?

And of course, all of this talk of promotion is inherently connected to my distrust and dislike of social media, a place designed specifically for all of us to put our egos on display on a daily basis. It’s why I think we all feel so bad on there. We’re not really connecting, we’re just taking turns asserting our selfness. Always focused inward, never genuinely outward.

In this context, my resistance to promotion almost seems hilariously quaint. We’re all self-promoting every day, so what’s the big deal?

I guess part of this current struggle is the everything-in-one-place nature of social media. Me promoting my book side by side with the latest awful news feels discordant and unpleasant.

And yet. Art is vital. And Instagram remains one of the best tools an artist has to tell others about their work.

I thought maybe, in writing this, I’d land on a clear-cut solution, but of course there isn’t one. All the advice I’ve read over the years encourages artists to engage with marketing/promotion in a way that feels good, that allows you to be your authentic creative self as you try to spread the word about your art, to think of the selling of your work as part of the process.

On my best days, I’m able to do that. I’m able to remember one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite books about creativity, The War of Art, by Steven Pressfield:

“Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It’s a gift to the world and every being in it. Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.”

But on other days, I see our current president—his constant need for attention, his deep insecurity masquerading as strength—and I see the way our societal need for attention has warped all of our brains for the worse, and I just want to live on a little device-free commune where we sit around a fire, laughing and talking and taking turns sharing things we’ve made.

Maybe we’ll get there.

But until we do, we need to get each other’s attention in the most authentic, loving way we can in order to share our gifts. Which I guess is what I’m trying to do here.

In that spirit, let me tell you about my latest contribution to the world.

Zed Moonstein Makes a Friend feels timelier every day. It asks questions about tech and what it’s doing to our society in a way that is accessible to young readers while still being entertaining and funny. I would love for it to be read by as many kids as possible. To that end, here’s a video, shot by my older son, featuring gasps from my younger son, of me unboxing the ARCs. Please enjoy.

And I guess I’ll post it on IG at some point soon too.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you and yours. And happy Katie Schorr’s Birthday this Sunday to all who celebrate. Watch Mo on Netflix if you haven’t yet. It’s thoughtful, hilarious, tense, and beautiful.