Why I'm Scared For You to Read This Post

After a successful career, my body and my soul were falling apart

Lisa here. I’ve been a minor public figure for seventeen years, since the dawn of social media, and in that time I’ve kept walls up online to protect my privacy.

My first book sold in 2007. Back then publishers were super eager for authors to market their books online, and I was super eager to connect with readers and sell books because we were poor as hell. I dutifully built a MySpace account and represented myself with care, knowing that my audience was largely made up of young people. I drew back even further when my middle grade books started coming out in 2011. Lately, if you’ve seen my social media posts, they’re virtually all business, no pleasure. Posting in those spaces has felt like a chore for years, and it shows.

It probably didn’t help that I grew up with my first-generation German-American mom constantly saying, “Don’t tell anybody!” about the most mundane things. It was ingrained that we keep things private, lest others see our dirt or failures or think a certain type of way about us.

Selfie with my mom (don’t tell anybody!)

In my years-long quest to be internetally appropriate for all ages--including the 9-year-olds who make up fake birthdays in order to get Instagram accounts--I lost my personality. I lost my funny. I know exactly who two-dimensional public-facing author Lisa McMann is, but I’d been so guarded for my entire career that I don’t know who the real Lisa is anymore. 

So part of this Substack journey is me trying to rediscover my true personality and share it with you. And if you happen to be an Unwanteds-loving nine-year-old standing on the shoulders of another nine-year-old wearing a trench coat, hat, and glasses to look old enough to be on Substack, well, I’m here to tell you that sometimes your favorite authors swear and say inappropriate things and air their true feelings. So…congratulations, I guess, for using your parents’ credit card to buy a paid subscription to Footnote. I appreciate your support very much, kiddos. 

Sidebar: this whole kids-being-sneaky-online thing is bringing back a memory of ten-year-old me discovering a basket full of Harlequin romance novels at my neighbor lady’s house. She let me come over and read them all summer long so I could keep them hidden from my mother. Thanks neighbor lady! I don’t remember your name, just your books!

Anyway, I’m straining against my inner self to be as open and honest as I can for the first time in public. I’m going to talk about things that make me feel really vulnerable, like the state of my body and health, and how I neglected myself emotionally, mentally, and physically due to the demands of a career writing 33 books in 17 years.

I’m taking a break from my job now. Or maybe I’m retired; I haven’t decided. The publishing industry, especially for middle grade books (grades 4-8), is stark at the moment. And frankly, I’m tired of the junk that comes with publishing and the entertainment industry, but that’s a topic for a different substack. Let’s just leave it at this: I’ve poured my whole self into being an author, I’ve said yes to virtually everything my publishers have asked of me, and I’m done with that for now. 

I’ve had a great career, one I will cherish, especially meeting young readers. A career I thought until recently would be longer, despite the aches and pains that come with hunching over a laptop typing furiously day in and day out.

A year ago, I was floundering through menopause in a body that felt really uncomfortable. I was mourning the passing of my dad. I was navigating a new nomad life, and trying to stay creative when I was running out of inspiration. I was nearing the end of writing my current series and reaching for the next ideas–you gotta keep stuff in the hopper or the paychecks stop. That’s when my editor at Penguin (whom I adore), did me a huge favor. She rejected my next series pitch.

Reader, it’s been a while since I’ve been rejected. I thought I’d feel worse about it than I did. And even though my agent could’ve tried to sell the project to another publisher, I said hang on a minute. Pause. Let’s think about this.

Matt and me at one of our many school visits

That rejection was exactly what I needed to take a good look at my life. For years I’d been in various sorts of pain resulting from this job: pinched nerves, frozen shoulder, muscle knots, migraines, writer’s elbow (which is just tennis elbow without the tennis, so, basically, embarrassing), all from being in a constant state of hunching over the computer, typing my umpteenth-million word, preparing myself yet again for every school visit where kids turn their noses up when I explain that no, my book is not a graphic novel. No, there aren’t any pictures. It’s a chapter book. With words. How many? Kind of a lot.

I love graphic novels, but I don’t write them. There are a lot of kids out there right now who don’t like lots of words. That part feels bad deep down.

After a successful career, my body and my soul were falling apart.

So Now What? 

Aside from a stint of seventh grade basketball when I accidentally scored two points after tripping over the free throw line, I’ve never been athletic. Whenever our family is together for holidays, the kids and Matt go on hikes. I used to go along, but the hikes were always too long and strenuous for me in the shape I was in. I would get breathless, sweaty, and cranky. I began to ask Matt in advance how hard the hike would be, and he’d say it was “easy” or “moderate.” But his (and the All Trails app’s) definition of easy did not match mine, which I pictured as a walk to the mailbox and back. I began to skip the family hikes, missing out on the quality discussions that loved ones fall into when out in nature together.

Last year, after my editor rejected my pitch and my workload eased up for the first time in almost two decades, I decided I had an opportunity to take care of myself. Put myself first. A foreign concept for a lot of Gen X women like me. My uncomfortable body, health issues, and increasing pain had been on my mind for a while, ever since my dad passed away in 2023. But there had always been that looming deadline. Until there wasn’t.

With the help of my doctor, I got my act together and my metabolic issues addressed. I started moving more. Walking more. Playing with my granddogs more. Lifting weights and eating more protein. I took the Christmas hike with my family and didn’t die. We even played disc golf! I cheated a lot but had fun.

Me with our very sweet son Kilian on our Christmas hike 2024 (He agrees to hold my hand whenever I ask him to) 

On our first cruise as nomads, Matt and I decided that we would not treat it as a vacation. It was just our temporary home and office on the sea. We took full advantage of the ship’s gym and stairways, not using the elevator unless we had luggage in hand. Back then I was proud to climb 7-10 flights of stairs a day. Now I do 30+ per day.

I love gauging my progress from one cruise to the next. I mean, who does that? Dang, I’m lucky.

Matt and me climbing cruise ship steps as part of our daily workout

About six months ago, two different people told us about their experiences with the Camino Frances, a pilgrim’s walk across northern Spain, from St Jean Pied de Port, France, to Santiago de Compostela, Spain, where St. James is believed to be buried. I was intrigued by the pilgrimage history that dated back to the 10th century. Nowadays pilgrims stay in albergues or hostels or hotels along the way. But the Camino is 500 miles long, it traverses the Pyrenees Mountains, and it takes 4-5 weeks to walk from one end to the other. I was in no shape for that. 

I’d also been feeling a bit unsettled as I finished my final book. It was strange not having a deadline or a work goal. I’m a driven person (most authors are, or we’d all give up), and I was searching for my next thing. 

Maybe the Camino was it.

Matt was flabbergasted and skeptical that I’d want to walk 500 miles. But it felt right to me, and I freaking love a challenge. This was a huge, difficult goal, but I’ve always relied on instinct, and instinct was telling me this was the right way to start off the last third of my life, should I be so lucky to have that much time left. And maybe, like with many pilgrims, the Camino would tell me my purpose along the way.

Thus, we began hiking the world in preparation. 

Me hiking in Monterey, California, in fall of 2024

We plan to do the Camino sometime in 2026. To train, we’ll find hikes in all of our destinations, whether stateside or in cruise ports or when staying overseas. On cruises, we no longer book shore excursions; instead we find our way to the local or national parks and see the beauty of each city through walking its mountains or along its coastline.

And now I have a new Camino deadline to give me something to strive for, and so many other multi-day hikes to do before and after that (looking at you, Cotswolds Way). I’m building strength and stamina. Working on my aches and pains. Taking care of myself, body and soul, for the first time in a long time. I’m very excited about my progress and really looking forward to what my future holds.

So. That’s a lot of personal stuff for an uptight, private person like me to reveal. I thank you for receiving it gently, and I’m so grateful for your support and encouragement. I think having you share this journey will give me motivation to keep moving toward better health and a re-centered life.

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