Publishing Schedules and Chronic Illness

For the vast majority of my writing career, I struggled with chronic pain and other chronic illnesses. I still struggle with mental illness issues, although I am medicated and in a routine that means I can almost function like a regular human. However, because I’m not well, I never will be well, and I work to get as close to well as is possible for me to achieve, I feel like I have a half-decent chance of reasonably delving into this subject.

Here are a few important tone setters we need to all understand before we dive into this.

Normal people don’t live with daily pain. There is a pain scale that goes from 0-10. Normal people are at a 0 with brief forays into 1. If you have 1 daily, that is not normal, and you should seek medical advice from a professional.

The vast majority of humans enjoy going about their day at a 0 with those brief instances into 1. On a good day, I’m a 1 or a 2. (This is improved from living life, daily, fluctuating between 6-9.)

My longest migraine lasted about a year. Maybe longer, definitely not less. My migraine symptoms include nausea, light and sound sensitivity, among other things. It’s a miserable existence.

I learned how to function and work through migraines because I did not have any other choice. I didn’t want to stay in bed crying all day, so I learned to cope. I figured out which drugs worked, which ones didn’t… and ultimately got a diagnosis that helped me understand I would never actually get better.

My spine is defective, and it’s defective in such a way where it’s non-operable. (No, I am not looking for, asking for, requesting, or entertaining any form of medical advice. You are not my doctor, you are not invited to be my doctor, and you do not know my medical history.)

Hard work, medical care, medications, and routine have gotten my spinal problems to be consistently 1-3, with 2 being most common, on a daily basis. For me, a 2 means I can pop some ibuprofen and be at 0-1 throughout most of the day.

That was the result of over a decade of trial, error, and effort.

This is where some cruel realities come into play.

No matter where you are on the pain scale, someone is going to come around and go “You don’t have real chronic pain, my (insert person) has (insert disease) and that’s far worse than yours will ever be!”

Another author told me this a while back. The other author was promptly blocked from all my social media and basically escorted off.

Chronic pain, chronic illness, etc… it isn’t a competition. It doesn’t matter if you hurt more or less than someone else. Pain hurts. That’s why it’s called pain.

You don’t have to understand. You don’t have to even care. All you have to do is believe someone when they say “it hurts.” That’s it, that’s all.

Anything less than that makes you an asshole. It truly does.

Chronic pain is not a competition. If someone says they have a migraine, what does it cost you to believe them? Absolutely nothing.

When dealing with someone suffering with chronic pain, “I hope you feel better soon” can be a mine field. We know we aren’t going to be feeling better ever. That’s why it’s chronic. We know you mean well. We truly do. But those intrusive, invasive, and harmful thoughts are common when you deal with relentless daily pain.

And… for fuck’s sake… please don’t offer advice for what worked for you or your cousin unless the person asks for that advice. This is really hard, and I struggle with it all the time, but it’s fucking exhausting.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Do your friends and family who suffer from chronic pain a serious favor: please stop that.

If they want advice, they’ll ask. If you feel absolutely compelled to offer, ask, “May I share something my friend’s cousin’s brother’s former roommate did that helped them?” And be prepared to keep your mouth firmly closed if they say no.

Now, with the stage set, I can finally get onto the meat of this article.

Writing while suffering from chronic pain is hard. Your thoughts can scatter to the four winds at any moment. You have to scrape and claw for every moment of focus and productivity. Discipline is a must… and learning discipline when it feels like you have an army of angry dwarven miners with pickaxes slamming away at your skull? Nearly impossible.

It can be done, though.

Here are the little things I’ve done to help me get through trying to survive a publishing schedule while suffering through chronic pain:

1: Be Kind to Yourself

There are days productivity just isn’t going to happen. Do what you can when you can. But most of all, be kind to yourself. Beating yourself up over the fact you have a chronic illness is not going to help you. It is going to trash what’s left of your mental health, though.

However, this isn’t a “I don’t have to do anything ever” card; you do need to work when it is possible to work. Choosing not to when you can is destructive to your ability to handle life.

2: When you Can, Do!

When you can, do. That’s the key to this whole shebang working out in your favor. You probably won’t be able to set a daily schedule for yourself. But every time you realize that you are in a state where you can work, put your ass down in your chair, put those fingers to your keyboard, and do the things you need to do. Pick a task, any task! There is no wrong answer here. Doing is always better than thinking about doing, especially in a chronic illness situation.

3: Prioritize on a Good Day

It is easy to be ambitious when you’re having a good day. I fall prey to this all the time. Good day me wants to accomplish all the things. I have learned to have good day’s me think about the reality of bad day’s me. When I make my lists, I break it up into three different ways.

• Big Tasks
• Medium Tasks
• Step-by-Step Tasks

Mental acuity heavily suffers when you’re dealing with chronic pain. Good day’s me can handle big tasks with no problem. Pain level 6-9 me needs a list of step-by-step tasks that can be done in tiny bites.

But, when good day’s me provides bad day’s me with a step-by-step task list, even bad day’s me can get things done.

Here’s an example, stolen from my current life:

Big Task to-do list: Work on A Light in the Dark (Audrey Greene), Upload Audiobooks

Medium Task to-do list: Write 1k words A Light in the Dark () () () <– Each () representing one check box for me to do. Upload (Specific Title of Audiobook)

Step-by-Step Tasks

• Write 250 words A Light in the Dark () () () () () () () () () () () () () (However many little boxes I need to get the amount done for the day)
• Rename Audiobook (Title of Book specified) Files
• Use Audition to Remaster any (Title of Book specified) files as needed
• Zip Audiobook (Title of Book specified) Files
• Load Audiobook Files (Title of Book specified) to Patreon (Author, Title, Narrator, Book File, Cover)
• Load Audiobook Files (Title of Book specified) to Kobo
• Load Audiobook Files (Title of Book specified) to Author’s Republic
• Load Audiobook Files (Title of Book specified) to Library Systems

If it’s a really bad day, I will literally include the precise steps on how to do this. That way, I can refer to the list, follow the instructions, and get things done.

Is this a good way to live? No, not really… but the only way things will get done is if you do them. And there does come a point where you need to at least try to accomplish something in spite of your chronic illness.

It’s hard, and no… it never gets easier.

Don’t Make Promises You Can’t Keep

I post tentative lists all the time and make it clear they’re goals. But the instant a preorder goes up, I try my absolute best to deliver the books on time. Sometimes, I fail, and I have to push things back by a month. But I try to make sure when that preorder goes up that I can make the date.

If you aren’t sure about your schedule, don’t do preorders. Period. Making promises you can’t keep only adds to your woes.

It doesn’t matter what people say is required for success. If you consistently can’t make your deadlines, or your book quality suffers because you tried to rush too much, you lose. Readers want good books. Yes, the spoiled readers are going to flounce off.

Let them.

Let those ‘readers’ bother somebody else. You want readers who enjoy your books and want more of them, but in a healthy way for you and them.

The customer isn’t always right.

It’s hard ignoring bad reviews from readers. We, as creators, want people to like our stuff.

Here’s the raw deal, though. Bad reviews and naysayers can eat away at your flagging mental health. Don’t open the door to them. When you’re suffering from mental health issues or chronic illness, you need to be relentless and ruthless about removing the negativity from your life.

Your body or brain is treating you poorly enough.

Don’t let outside actors make the situation worse.

It doesn’t matter what the naysayers have to say, because they aren’t your audience.

You want to do the following whenever possible:

• Remove editorial mistakes from your books (Mistakes are mistakes. Correct the mistakes as much as you can.)
• Remove inconsistencies and plot holes from your books (Mistakes are mistakes…)
• Write the best book possible (Readers want to buy great books.)

Everything else is an opinion, and you know what they say about opinions. It’s a lot like assholes. Everyone has one, and nobody wants to see that shit in public.

Nowadays, I just check the ratings and number of reviews. If the book isn’t well received, I deprioritize the series so I don’t lose money as quickly finishing it and go about my day. The readers voted with their stars on retail sites. If they had wanted more books in the series, they would have voted with their reviews (and their wallets.)

That’s harsh, but writers are not a charity.

Failure is Always an Option

You’re going to fail. That’s how chronic illness works. When you do fail, go back to number one, remind yourself to be kind to yourself, dust off, and try again. Ditch the mentality that you have to succeed at everything first try without a struggle.

Most things worth doing in life are hard, they can’t be accomplished well or correctly the first time, and the only one who truly wants you to succeed is you. And when you’re struggling with mental health issues and chronic illness, this is hard.

When you can, do.

That’s the key to success.

I just keep telling myself this, and every step forward is momentum. It may be a small step, but over time, those small steps add up.

When you can, do.

Now, onto the scheduling portion of this post…

I am disciplined to the point I can do schedules with great success. I’m driven. I’m motivated. When I can, I do. This adds up. I’m able to work through most levels of pain nowadays, unless the pain is in my mouth, in which case, fucking forget it. I can tackle a migraine far better than I can tooth pain.

But… if you’re new to this, don’t do preorders. Don’t put your neck out and make your head available to be chopped off. Just don’t!

And when you are practiced… do yourself a favor and add three months to your estimated schedule. That way, when you can’t work, it doesn’t kill your deadlines. And please don’t move your book releases up even if you finished early. Readers are on budgets, and you could bounce checks/bounce their bank account. This is an act of utter selfishness.

Pleae don’t do this! changing the book to release later is fine. They can adjust their schedule and carry the money forward. But they can’t spend money they don’t have yet, and when you spring a release on them early, you can do them a great deal of financial harm.

Please remember that your readers are people and they may not be the best off financially. Your book is not that great. Nobody’s book is that great.

P.S.: The overdraft charges, at least at my bank, are $85 a pop.

Once you set that preorder date, stick to it or extend the preorder. Please don’t shorten it.

You hurt the people who want to support you the most when you do that.

Please note that this post was written on a high pain, low function day. (I just had dental surgery, and I’d rather have a migraine right now, truth be told…)

So, if the thoughts are more scattered than normal, well… that’s why.

When you can, do… and this was something I could do, so I did.