Walking up the mountain alone
My story about the publishing world, as a disabled human
I’ve waffled about sharing this story as I’ve had some people over the years try and dissuade me - concerned, perhaps that in shedding light I may be shooting myself in the foot, barring myself from future opportunities. I’ve come to realize, however, that through the lens of disability I may never be able to participate in these systems anyway - so fuck it.
A couple of days ago I logged into the Substack app after a long hiatus to see an article from The Guardian discussing an author, Helen DeWitt, who had no choice but to turn down a $175,000 literary grant due to extensive promotional demands. Helen, an American novelist, suffers from chronic health issues. The grant, intended to give authors time and space to work independently of financial concerns, evidently had other fiery hoops to jump through - thereby nullifying the sigh of relief the money was supposed to provide.
For an able-bodied author, the promotional demands DeWitt needed to met in order to receive the prize might be naught more than a hassle or inconvenience. Others may even find it fun. But for Helen, it barred the way. There were no accommodations for her illness. This got me thinking about disability in the realm of art and my own journey with it - something I’ve not yet discussed in full.
As many of you who have followed me will know, I have self-published all of my tarot and oracle decks. I will continue to do this - and I’m assuming the same will go for my future books. I’ve always coveted the notion of being taken under the wing of a big pub house like so many of my peers and idols have. As my career began taking off in 2017 I did get courted a few times - Random House, Hay House, and others - but at that time, despite them courting me, the verdict was that my online social network was not robust enough. A flimsy reason, I thought - but I decided to let it be fuel to grow my numbers. Even though my count got to be over six figures all told, I never heard from them again. I remained in my lane and went the self-publishing route, being as prolific as possible.
Fast-forward to 2024. My business had taken a nose-dive. I hadn’t been healthy enough to create a new tarot or oracle project in years. I’d accrued dozens of nebulous, sometimes debilitating symptoms. The old projects were sadly becoming dusty due to capitalism’s hyperfixation upon what’s shiny. To try and save my business and maintain the roof over my head, I hired an agent who shopped my back catalog - decks that had been featured in numerous magazines and had raked in millions - out to any publisher or imprint, big or small, who would potentially bite. They all said no, one after the other. No, no, no, no, no, no. Below is some of their feedback.
Running Press’s feedback:
There were six rejections in total and they all said essentially the same thing. Devany and/or her decks are not new and exciting enough, and we’d want to change the living shit out of them to make them marketable and we don’t think we can do that. And, of course, numbers - always at the forefront of a publisher’s hivemind.
These rejections did hit my RSD (rejection sensitivity dysphoria - something a lot of AuDHD people experience) pretty hard. But deep down I did know that I was not old, nor was I unexciting - I could prove them wrong, and I would. I just needed to recuperate and pull myself as far away from the public eye as possible. So this is what I did: I took myself off socials, I gathered back as many of the tendrils I’d slithered into the universe as possible and (slowly, tediously) reclaimed my power.
This is when The Fertile Void Tarot and Illuminated Magazine idea came to me, and not only was I back in the creative throne that had whisked me into this business in the first place, it was next level. I was so excited. I had every assumption that I’d self-publish this one like all the rest - but when the project was near completion a lightbulb went off above my head: what if I pitch this one to publishers? The Fertile Void isn’t old, it’s not dusty - it’s a brand new project from a well-loved, seasoned, successful tarot author. Not only that, but the deck + magazine themselves are stunning, fascinating and can teach you everything you could possibly want to know about esoterica. I figured my chances were pretty high and that I had nothing to lose - if they said no, I’d just proceed the way I always had.
I excitedly emailed my agent about the new deck and put together a proposal. She told me that many pub houses post-pandemic were not as keen on tarot anymore as it, for them, was more of a passing ‘fad’ than a true interest. But one publisher - Weiser - would likely be a done deal. I have many, many books by Weiser on my shelves at home…esoterica volumes about Thoth tarot, Qabalah, witchcraft. Weiser has been the OG occult publisher for decades and I was absolutely thrilled by the notion of being one of their authors. Weiser felt like being handed a golden key to a stuffy old wizard’s library inside a gnarled old oak tree. Yes, of course I wanted to be a part of that legacy.
Once the proposal was sent in, I actually began feeling a lot more keen on this than I had expected. As someone who has had to be singularly autonomous and independent throughout her life - unable, for the most part, to rely upon her body/mind to partake in regular society and careers, therefore out of reach of many built-in structures of support, not to mention lack of family care, knowledgeable doctors and other buttresses - I have been acclimated to DIY. I’d learned over decades of personal and professional rejection that asking for help wasn’t really the move. But this particular novel idea of having someone else do some of the heavy lifting for me - instead of having to use my own janky mule to carry all of my business-related affairs up the mountain yet again (sorry, mule - I truly do love you) - was actually kind of a godsend. Because oh my, is it ever a lot. For those who aren’t in the know, here is a list of my roles:
Concept artist
Illustrator
Image sourcing and organizing
Graphic Designer
Writer
Editor
Brand coordinator
Social media “influencer”
Marketing manager
Web designer/coder
Customer service representative
Literary Agent
Crowdfunding Campaign Manager
Merchandiser
Packer/shipper
…and likely more that I simply cannot think of right now.
I mean, no wonder I burn the fuck out. It’s a lot. It’s more than a single person should do. My agent gave Weiser was given six weeks to come back with a verdict. Each day I awoke with a flush of adrenaline and, before my eyes were even fully peeled, flicked to the Gmail app on my phone. Finally, on the seventh day of the sixth week, this was awaiting me in my inbox. (Feedback from Weiser in italics, message from agent in regular).
I let out a sob and then a full-scale meltdown ensued. One so large that hadn’t been seen in years. I was beside myself with grief for reasons I did not fully understand at that time. In retrospect it was abandonment - I’d built up such profound hope in their ability to support me (a neurodivergent, chronically ill, perimenopausal woman which may as well be triple disabled if you ask me…yes, I think perimenopause should be deemed a disability, fight me in the comments if you like). When they said no, I felt once again like a child who’d been left alone with strangers at a brand new school after crying my eyes out and screaming, “I don’t want to go!!!!!” Tired of being tired, tired of having to do this insane amount of plate-spinning, tired of juggling over a dozen roles, the rejection was devastating, not to mention their reasoning for it.
I was unable to conjure a reply without it sounding overly emotional so I waited until my body allowed me balance and peace. A month later, this is what I sent to my agent:
Apologies for my delayed response. The news was devastating to me, and I needed to take some time to regroup, recoup, and re-envision (and all of the other ‘re’ words that one must do during a Mercury retrograde).
Upon reflection, I’ve realized it’s clear that Weiser’s feedback has nothing to do with my work but everything to do with the culture we are now living in. Guidebooks are meant to be referred back to - that’s why they exist. The fact that she’s concerned about this speaks volumes about how dumbed down / fast food everything has become. Even the Rider Waite Smith and Thoth decks require guidebooks - no one is going to glean the meanings of the tarot cards by simply gazing upon them once or twice! It’s simply ludicrous. The magazine guidebook I’ve created for The Fertile Void deck is a masterpiece - but it seems that, given the nature of publishing needing to cater to the lowest possible standard of attention and consumerism (aka, no one wants to learn or read anything anymore, people want things fed to them, as little effort as possible) something as rich and layered as TFV is incompatible.
So I think I’m done trying to appeal to the publishing world as the feedback I’ve received on the whole has done nothing but make me (albeit temporarily) doubt myself when there is simply nothing to doubt. I’ve broken through glass ceilings on my own - and I will continue to - it’s just really too bad that they are unable to see that. That alone was my devastation - doing all of this by myself for so long, as I said in our meeting, has its glories but also many burnouts and I was looking forward to having external support for once. But maybe what I am gleaning is that there is more to learn on this path. Time will tell.
I’m sorry, for my part, that I wasn’t able to be a successful client for your agency. If someday I have a book idea that I think will be palatable to the masses I’ll circle back. Until then, thanks again for everything and I hope you have a beautiful and cozy rest of 2025.
I never received a response from my agent. It has been crickets ever since. For my part, I thought my response was pretty good - my agent had also done much to set herself up as a confidante. So I thought I was in a safe space…alas.
Listen: I know publishers have a bottom line of selling as many copies as possible. I know my work is a tad more riotous and niche than what typically counts as mainstream. I know talented people get rejected all the time. Apparently Frank Herbert’s Dune was rejected twenty times before being picked up, of all places, by a publisher named Chilton - known for printing car service manuals.
I also know I am not in any way widely palatable. I had tried to be during the first phase of my career and all the people-pleasing sent me careening into the abyss of burnout. I have since stopped trying. When I picked up my bruised heart and proceeded to get The Fertile Void going via Kickstarter, I resigned myself to the lone wolf path once again.
And look what happened:
I made more than double my ask, and counting. Nearly 400 people have thus far supported the project, and it was fully funded in 2 1/2 days - a personal record!
But this is also what happened:
My chronic illness flared due to the immense pressure and stress of the launch and I’ve been in that flare ever since. I have not truly been able to enjoy the fruits of my labours. Of course there has been unbridled gratitude - being able to make a living wage as an artist (after decades of starving) is a true gift that I do not, for a moment, take for granted. But my body has demanded truncations of celebrations and promotions. Launching this project was like yanking my janky mule up a sizeable mountain - but if I had’ve been able-bodied, that mountain would be Everest. I’d have gone on multiple podcasts to promote, perhaps self-funded a tour, attended talks, interviews and conventions. I’d have done it all.
Which brings me to my point.
My story is not the same as DeWitt’s in that I was never offered a grant or a publishing deal. My realization is that even if I had been, I wouldn’t have been able to handle the demands. The grief I experienced from my multiple rejections is only one side of the coin. It is compounded by realizing that had the door been open, I’d still ultimately be rejected by virtue of the fact that I’m disabled. These ‘opportunities’ are highly selective. They do discriminate. Even in the realm of the arts, where many disabled people find themselves, there are few gentle and accommodating routes. Under modern capitalism, one must embody several roles. One must specialize in specializing.
It’s a strange emotional landscape to embody. I am incredibly proud of the success that self-publishing has brought me. Random House, Urban Outfitters, Free People, Hay House and a slew of smaller imprints - they all wanted to mould my work into something they deemed profitable. Who knows if I’d even recognize it by the time they were finished with their edits. She Wolfe Tarot in particular was coveted by many, but the main change everyone wanted to make was to remove the nudity. The nudity IS WHAT MAKES SHE WOLFE WHAT IT IS! I scoff, I laugh, I balk!
However, the immense pride I feel when I regard my body of self-published work (and dream up what I will create in the future) is tempered by disenfranchised grief. I crane my neck up at my mountain whose peak I have summited many times over, carving out my own path to the sky whilst I watch other people take an elevator. The real twisted dagger is that those people don’t need the elevator as much as I do. They are not disabled. Privilege begets privilege. Disability begets disability. We are both in spirals - but one is up, the other is down.
Gratefully self-publishing has become more viable for countless people whose frustrations with gatekeeping lead them to find another route. As traditional publishing becomes increasingly obsolete these companies may be forced to relinquish their ableism. But we will remember that it was never elective - and never for the right reasons.
Until next time,
Love and wolves.
D xx