From Substack to Print: What It Really Takes to Publish Your Own Book
Listen on Apple Podcasts | Listen on Spotify
When I started writing my memoir Lonely Girl, I never imagined the journey it would take me on. What began as a serialized story on Substack eventually became a fully published print book — and along the way, I learned just how much grit, patience, and heart it takes to turn a personal story into something you can confidently share with the world.
In this week’s episode of the Personal Branding podcast, I sit down with my dear friend and editor, Elena.
Elena is a changemaker and trusted consultant who has catalyzed and scaled transformation on six continents. She’s a keynote speaker, writer, and consultant who works with makers—people who feel compelled to make bold, meaningful impact. She’s also served as editor-in-chief of two magazines, contributed to both peer-reviewed and mainstream publications, and published three of her own books: one ghostwritten memoir, one historical-fiction memoir, and one nonfiction handbook for changemakers.
She’s someone I deeply admire — not just for her impressive body of work, but for her heart. And in this episode, we’re pulling back the curtain on what the editing process really looks like: what to expect when you move from “I have a draft” to “I’m ready to put this in print.”
The Turning Point
For years, Lonely Girl lived in drafts on my laptop. I toyed with the idea of traditional publishing, even spoke with a publisher, but nothing panned out. Then, one day while scrolling Substack, I came across the idea of serializing a book. Something about it felt electric.
I didn’t need permission. I didn’t need to wait. I could just… start.
So, on my birthday—July 30, 2024—I published the first chapter. Over the next five months, I released the story week by week. That process alone was rigorous and emotional, but when it ended, I knew I wasn’t finished. I wanted to refine it, expand it, and bring it into the world as a real book.
Finding the Right Editor
Enter Elena.
We had met in a writing group years before, and I had watched her finish and publish her own books. I trusted her completely—not just her eye for detail, but her ability to see me, understand my story, and help me shape it without losing my voice.
At first, I thought she would simply help me with formatting and proofreading. But as soon as we sat down together, it became clear: this was going to be much deeper. The question wasn’t “Is this book ready?” but “How much stronger do you want it to be?”
The Hardest Part
Editing a memoir is not glamorous. By the time you’re polishing a manuscript, the fun is gone. You’re not basking in creative inspiration—you’re exhausted, second-guessing yourself, and staring at the same sentences for the hundredth time.
For me, it meant 5 a.m. writing sessions before work. It meant wrestling with whether to tell the story from my 26-year-old self (raw and unaware) or my 30-year-old self (wiser, more reflective). It meant cutting chapters I loved and going deeper in places that felt painful.
At one point, Elena described herself as a “doula” for the book—guiding me through the difficult fourth trimester, when the story stops feeling like yours and begins demanding things of you. And she was right. There were days it felt like the book itself was bossing me around.
Lessons Learned
Looking back, there are a few big lessons I took from this process:
Writing and editing are two different skill sets. Drafting requires the artist in you—raw expression, messy words, just getting it down. Editing requires the strategist—refining, cutting, shaping. Don’t expect them to feel the same.
Honor your reader. If you want to share your work, it can’t just be about you. Editing is about creating a seamless experience for someone else—making sure they don’t get lost, distracted, or dropped.
Metaphors matter. One of the best lessons Elena taught me was to stick with a metaphor and not mix them. If you commit to a “movie” metaphor, stay with it. Build a family of words around it. Consistency creates power.
Don’t get too attached. Some of my favorite stories didn’t make it into the final cut. And that’s okay. Sometimes, the most loving thing you can do for your reader is to let something go.
There are no shortcuts. Hundreds of hours went into this book after the draft was “done.” The only way through is to keep showing up, sentence by sentence, morning after morning.
Why It Was Worth It
When I held the print copy of Lonely Girl for the first time, I was overwhelmed. Even though I had read and reread every word, it felt like I was meeting it anew. There’s something magical about seeing your words on paper, bound together, that no digital draft can replicate.
And beyond that, the process itself was transformative. Editing Lonely Girl wasn’t just about refining a manuscript—it was about refining my understanding of loneliness, performance, and self-worth. It deepened my friendship with Elena. It made me a stronger writer.
Most of all, it reminded me why stories matter. Because when we share them honestly, we make others feel less alone.
A Final Thought
If you’re dreaming of writing a book, here’s my encouragement: start where you are. Write the messy draft. Share it if you feel called. And when it’s time to refine, find the people who will walk alongside you with care, honesty, and devotion.
It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.
