What uncontrollable blushing and a five-month book tour taught me about self-acceptance
Is acknowledging our flaws the gateway to turning a weakness into strength?
When my second book Slow was released, I spent the better part of two years touring, much of it with my family. First we travelled up the east coast of Australia in a campervan, and then, after selling our house and giving away most of our stuff in 2018, we toured across (and down, and up, and around) North America. The US/Canada tour was five months long and included over 40 events, 28 states and about a bajillion media interviews.
It was…intense. But it was also one of the most incredible experiences of my life. And the fact that I got to share it with Ben and the kids was such a privilege. Even now I can’t quite believe we did it.
As part of the tour, I did lots of press, which I found very daunting. Live breakfast TV in Nashville, a big Oprah-style show in Toronto (where I had to declutter a lady’s handbag in real time with no warning), a talking-head show in Stephen King’s hometown of Portland, Maine where the host seemed vaguely disappointed in everything I had to say. I did the Canadian version of The View and so many morning news shows I lost count.
And as hard as that was (I am an introvert and battle with the most brutal self-esteem) it was the book tour events that proved to be way more stressful and, eventually, way more rewarding.
If I had a bigger profile, I might have been able to organise each event to be a Q&A, where a local bookish person would interview me on stage. I can talk in that setting for hours and find it (relatively) enjoyable. But because virtually no-one knew who I was, in most cities, I had no choice. If I wanted to do an event, I had to create my own presentation and stand and deliver it in front of whoever showed up — talking for an hour, alone, on stage, as people came and left, and, in one memorable moment, fell asleep.
I knew this was coming months ahead of time, which meant I could prepare a good talk and build in lots of time for interaction and questions. But the fear. Oh man, the fear. I went weeks before the tour without sleeping properly, completely overwhelmed by the terror of having to stand up, take up space, have something to say.
What if people are bored? What if they don’t like me? What if they disagree with me? What if I forget how to speak? What if my presentation disappears from my head and I’m left stranded in the middle of the stage with nothing to say ? What if someone stands up in question time and tells me I’m nothing but a privileged white woman? What if my uncontrollable blushing causes my face and neck and chest to turn the kind of bright red that is uncomfortable to witness, let alone experience? What if I sweat through my clothes? What if I have a coughing fit like I sometimes do when I get nervous?
Let me allay any concerns you might have and tell you — these all happened.
These all happened, and I didn’t die. Maybe I wanted the earth to swallow me whole for a while, but I definitely didn’t die.
I knew myself well enough to know I needed help, so in the months leading up to the tour, I worked with the absolute legend
who helped me get my head right as best she could.Over Zoom, she gave me a whole heap of tools that I could use to help ground me before, during and after events. She taught me how to breathe deeply. She told me to slow down. She suggested that I loosen my knees and not cross my legs when I was standing. She told me to believe in myself. She encouraged me to create some mantras and repeat them to myself before every talk. (I want to take up space. I will take up space. I happily take up space.)
She also told me to own my wavering voice. To be proud of the way the red bloom of embarrassment would leech up my chest throughout the talk until my face burned with somatic shame. Recognise it, acknowledge it, speak it out loud, she told me.
So, I did.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Tortoise by Brooke McAlary to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.