The Indie Author Burnout

Let’s be honest, being an indie author isn’t just about writing books anymore. It’s about wearing every hat in publishing, often all at once.

We’re supposed to (amongs other things) write the actual books (no small task), hire and manage editors and cover designers, keep track of beta readers and reviewers, format books for multiple platforms, create promotions and plan launches, cross-promote with other authors, network, get on podcasts, speak at conferences, pitch to bookstores and libraries.

And that’s not even touching direct sales—building Shopify stores, managing ads, shipping, customer service. The list is endless.

It’s too much for one person.

The burnout is real.

The Treadmill

Indie publishing has created an amazing opportunity. We can publish faster, retain control, and earn more royalties than ever before. But the price is steep.

Many of us live on the rapid-release treadmill. Finish a book. Launch it. Market it. Start the next. Repeat. Relentless.

And when you stop, even just for a holiday, it feels like the whole system punishes you. Algorithms dip. Visibility drops. Readers move on. So we sprint harder, trying to keep up with an industry that never slows down.

We’ve turned ourselves into robots, producing the next book, the next ad campaign, the next social media post. Creativity becomes output. Joy becomes schedule.

The Team We Need (But Can’t Always Afford)

The obvious solution is to build a team. A virtual assistant for admin. An ad manager for campaigns. A launch coordinator. Someone to handle direct sales.

But here’s the reality: not everyone can afford that, especially at the start. Most indie authors are barely covering costs in their first years, let alone funding a small staff.

So we try to do it all ourselves. We juggle until we drop.

What’s the Solution?

Maybe it’s about slowing down and accepting that rapid release isn’t the only path. Readers still love quality, even if it takes longer.

Maybe it’s about community. Banding together with other authors, pooling resources, sharing reviewers, swapping expertise. A collective can sometimes achieve what a lone writer can’t.

Maybe it’s about boundaries, deciding which hats you don’t wear. You don’t have to be on every platform. You don’t have to attend every event. You don’t have to master every algorithm.

Because the truth is this: there has never been a better time to be an indie author. The doors are open. The opportunities are endless. But the question we have to keep asking is—how sustainable is it?

We got into this to write. To tell stories. To connect with readers. If we’re too burned out to do that, then all the rapid releases and fancy launches in the world don’t matter.

Maybe the real solution is remembering why we started in the first place—and protecting that spark above all else.