Struggling With Social Media as a Debut Novelist

The night before my novel Stone Angels debuted in hardcover on March 4, 2025, I couldn’t sleep. I’d been warned by writer friends that this might happen, and yet I made no contingency plans. My head felt like it might explode from insidious thoughts circling around my brain: What if no one reads my novel? What do I do if no one cares about these characters I spent years creating? What if not a single person notices that I finally published a novel?

(Why I Don't Maintain a Social Media Platform.)

The next morning, bleary eyed and somewhat cantankerous, I began my journey as a novelist. And I shouldn’t have worried. The first emails I received were from my pub team at Grand Central Publishing and my agent, Amy, congratulating me on my “incredible” novel.

My Instagram blew up with good wishes from writer friends, and also from people I didn’t know, all congratulating me on the publication of my debut novel. Facebook friends reacted with heart emojis and lovely messages. The attention felt gratifying and validating (I’d published a novel!) but also uncomfortable.

I’m an introvert—I don’t like sharing details of my personal life with most people I know, never mind, strangers on social media. I’m aware of how ironic this is, given the fact that I’ve written a memoir before this novel. But I like to think I wrote a collection of essays which was rebranded as a memoir at a commercial publishing house (full disclosure: In 2022, I was briefly on Twitter because of my memoir but stopped when it became the abomination called “X”). The fact is, I don’t think I’m that interesting or that anyone should care about the minutiae of my life. I’m not a performer and I’m incapable of projecting a persona that I’m not.

So, to use a cliche, I felt “way out of my depth” on social media. I felt pressured to respond to every post about my book on Instagram and Facebook—from other authors and readers and book club members and bookstagrammers. Even my friends. I tried to repost every story and reel because I was truly grateful for all the kindness shown to Stone Angels—loved the pics of my novel in bookstores I’d only imagined visiting, loved doing a live-stream interview! But I was stressed out. I couldn’t keep up with everyone’s posts, and I didn’t want anyone to think I was ignoring them. I was just clumsy with social media.

During the first few weeks of my novel debut, managing my Instagram and Facebook accounts seemed like a full-time job. I became such a blithering mess that my son (a Gen Z) would occasionally impersonate me as the author of Stone Angels on IG. I couldn’t manage the technology to navigate graphics or add a carousel of photos or a song to my posts. I bumbled and stumbled, pretending I could do this 21st century thing called social media.

And I worried constantly that I offended someone, somewhere, out there in virtual reality. A place where you’re judged based on the words and pictures you put out there. I was wholly unprepared for this, and it felt like I had a nervous breakdown. Not being able to sleep, I started taking sleeping pills.

Writer friends tried to give me advice. “Lean into your hobbies and post about that,” they said. Does the ability to stare at bodies of water for hours count as a hobby? I wondered. The truth is I’m not a baker or a gardener or a knitter. Believe me, I’ve tried, and the results have ranged from hilariously inept to downright sad. Writer friends said that posts about their dogs and cats have garnered the most likes and comments on social media. Unfortunately, I’m allergic to cats and dogs—also to cockroaches, dust mites, feathers, and ragweed, among other things, although probably no one posts about those things.

I know a writer who refuses to engage with social media. He doesn’t even own a cellphone. Imagine that, in this age of TikTok stars and bookstagrammers and influencers. But he stays sane in a world that seems filled with people relentlessly seeking attention. I’ve often wondered if I should emulate his approach, drop off entirely from my Instagram and Facebook with no explanation whatsoever.

I mean, I’ve already done a version of that by not being on social media for months, right? I wonder if I could be known as that reclusive writer? Probably not. Probably no one in virtual reality will care. But I care. Despite being an introvert, bordering on hermit-like tendency, I want to connect with readers because I’m deeply grateful for every single person who has read my work.

So, the paperback launch of Stone Angels is today (March 10, 2026), and I’ve landed on a different approach to social media this time around. I'll post whenever and on whatever I feel like and not worry about everyone else. I’m going to establish what people call “healthy boundaries” and honor my feelings and privilege my mental health over anyone else’s. I will try to thank any reader who says any kind words about Stone Angels—because I’m grateful! But I won’t drive myself crazy with worry that I hurt someone’s feelings by not responding.

This time, I plan to use my dark humor and post on Instagram about the grief and hilarity of moving from my tiny house in the woods. Again. How I’ve clung to a bag of bath salts from my last apartment in the Bronx (five years!) and how comically sad that is.

I want to show the things I couldn’t let go of despite my best efforts. Like the beautiful black cocktail dress, I painstakingly transported in tissue paper to every house and apartment for the last 15 years because I imagined myself wearing it to a glamorous book event. And how I couldn’t possibly fit into it now because my body changed in shape and contour—life happens! How I’m trying to cram a lifetime of living into a couple of dozen white IKEA bins because I can’t face another cardboard box after all this freaking moving.

I’m going to share the tragedy and comedy of my life on social media and not care if anyone is listening. I’m going to show my most authentic self and minimize my anxiety as best as I can. Because that is all I can do.

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