Lately, I’ve been incubating some big changes. After eleven years as founder and director of For Books’ Sake, I’m stepping down to focus on other things.

For Books’ Sake has given me so, so much joy over the last eleven years. When I started it in 2010, it was because it was the thing I wanted but couldn’t find. And over the years since then, it’s given me a community, and friends who I now count as family. It’s given me experiences I never would have had otherwise. Like: compering sold-out shows from Edinburgh Fringe to the Royal Albert Hall; interviewing Margaret Atwood on TV; being followed by a filming crew while giving out books at the roller derby; having a massive birthday party on a rock’n’roll barge; and a million other ridiculous escapades. It’s given me the skills, faith and support to stay committed to my own writing in a way that I wouldn’t have without it.

Over and over again, it’s shown me the power of community and tenacity; the collective healing and celebration that can come from people sharing their stories and art; and the way small ripples of change on an individual basis can join and become tidal waves. When I look back on the last eleven years, there is so, so much I’m grateful for.

But there is another side to this story. There always is, isn’t there? And it feels inauthentic to not acknowledge it. Because the truth is, my time as director of For Books’ Sake has often been incredibly hard. Over the years, I’ve felt a ton of grief and shame about not doing enough. Every rejected funding bid, every ask from the community that I wasn’t able to meet, every missed email or mistake: they all came at a cost.

The past decade-plus has been a series of steep lessons about burnout and boundaries; perfectionism and productivity; sustainability, surrender and trust. And those last two, they’ve never been strong suits of mine. I find it difficult to ask for help, to let people in, to trust people as collaborators and team members, and to find a balance to those dynamics that works. And that’s been to the detriment of both myself and For Books’ Sake as an organisation. There are a million things I’d do differently if I had my time again.

But all of that is part of why I’m so excited about the continued evolution of For Books’ Sake from here. Because my co-director Paul and I are handing our baby over to two amazing souls: Jo Flynn and Bridget Hart. They’ve got a ton of brilliant ideas, skills and resources they’ll be bringing to it, and a vision that really prioritises integrity and inclusivity. And my usually-ever-present fear and anxiety about (not) being in control? For once, they’re not part of this picture. Because I truly trust Bridget and Jo, and am so confident and comfortable that this thing I started will flourish under their leadership and care. That couldn’t be a more beautiful way to be stepping back – not from a place of scarcity or overwhelm, grief or resentment, but full of trust and security that it’s the right move, both for me and For Books’ Sake as an org.​

For Books’ Sake has been the making and breaking of me in so many ways, and I am so proud of the impact it’s had. I never thought I’d be so comfortable to be leaving it behind, which just goes to show that letting things go is a practice like any other. So here’s to building things and letting them continue to grow beyond the places we can take them. I’m excited and privileged to have played a part in it.

First published via my newsletter in October 2021