Editor's Letter #1: On self-help and ambition
Reframing failure and reclaiming my dream job
Hello everybody,
Welcome to my first official Editor’s Letter, which may not seem like a big deal to you (and will, in fact, read very much like previous Monday mailers - members, you’ll find your joining info for tonight’s meetup at the end of this little essay) but is an important milestone for me.
Here’s why…
In my life I have made some great decisions: getting married to Mr Shelf Help (2007), adopting a dog (2021), moving to Manchester to study (1995), moving to London to work (1999), moving to New York to hustle (2002), moving to the countryside to heal (2020).
I’ve also made some spectacularly terrible decisions (too many to list here, but much more on those to come in future Editor’s Letters, I’m sure).
The best - and hardest - decision I ever made was leaving my last ‘real’ job as a Women’s Editor at the MailOnline, ten years ago in 2015.
This was my best decision because… well, it was really the only decision I could’ve made to save my mental and physical health (ironically the demands of the kind of job people would kill for ended up almost finishing me off).
And it was the hardest because leaving this ‘dream’ job (on paper) meant that I had failed. That I was a failure. Professionally and personally. Because being an editor on a global publication was more than just a job to me, it was a hard-won career and a HUGE part of my identity. I had hustled for 15+ years to climb that masthead and took a twisted kind of pride in being tough enough to earn myself a seat in the world’s biggest, most successful and most notorious newsroom.
Until I wasn’t tough enough anymore.
And even though it was the right decision, and ultimately the best thing that could’ve happened to me, and we all know that no job is worth more than our health…. yada yada yada… at the time, ejecting myself from this ‘prestigious’ position that I had worked so hard for felt like confirmation of everything my inner critic had nagged at all along. That, yes, I was an an undeserving imposter, and that, no, the real me wasn’t quite good enough. For this or anything.
(I was also hurtling towards 40, which I think we can all agree is not the best time to make oneself unemployed with no game plan).
“Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly."
- Robert F. Kennedy
And I wasn’t the only person who thought I was a loser. Compounding my internal angst at my personal failings, and the cherry on this ‘I always knew I was worthless’ cake was external validation of my shortcomings from people in the biz whom I respected. Probably even admired.
Tabloid journalism isn't known for its supportive internal culture, even when you're playing the game (promotion at the papers often the result of the ‘ferret in the bag’ technique; stick two ferrets in a bag - or on a section desk - and they will fight to the death. The one alive at the end is the winner/keeps the job).
And me choosing to leave and shine a light on the fact that there might be a different way to work (and live) was always going to invite a fight.
One parting comment from a senior editor during my last week at The Mail remains burned into my brain (and body… the nervous system repair continues ❤️🩹).
“Toni, it’s just a shame you’re not more ambitious.”
This comment was crushing to 2015 TJ, confirming all my worst fears about myself and almost succeeding in its passive aggressive purpose to make me change my mind about leaving and not give them the annoying job of finding my replacement.
I stuck to my guns, though, and left with as much grace as a dead ferret could muster, channelling Michelle Obama as the HR head patronisingly told me in my exit ‘interview’: “Well…. some people just can’t hack it.” (Go high TJ, go high! 😬).
But I also left with the idea that I wasn’t ambitious. That I couldn’t hack ‘it’.
And these were stories about myself that I clung on to for years as I drifted around as a lonely freelancer, grieving the ‘good old bad old days’ when I used to be somebody.
(Somebody who was addicted to booze and drama and never saw her husband or family, who gave herself shingles working 10+hour shifts for a company whose values she abhorred, but at least somebody who still got invited to parties).
And then I found self-help. And started learning how to identify and dismantle unhelpful and disempowering beliefs like these.
And I have been able to reframe my idea of ambition and success, learning about myself at the same time as I have been learning how to support a community and build a business.
“Daring greatly is being brave and afraid every minute of the day at the exact same time.”
- Brené Brown
Bit by bit, book by book, action by action, I have been gathering evidence that ambition looks different for everyone, and that I was ambitious. That I am ambitious. SUPER ambitious, in fact! Ambitious for a great life and to create a big, positive impact on the world.
I choose to believe that I am not a loser for not ‘hacking’ a job and career that was costing me my sanity and health. (And I thank God/the Universe/my gratitude journal daily that this little ferret saw the light and jumped up and out before she was trapped for good).
I know that I can do hard things. And I do! But the hard things I choose today are aligned with my updated vision of success, one that looks - and feels - like living a happy, fulfilling and peaceful life by design, and creating a movement and business that serves.
“Insanity, a perfectly rationale adjustment to an insane world.”
R D Laing
And now that I’ve reframed ambition for myself, it’s time that I reclaim my dream job of ‘Editor’.
I love writing and creating and teaching self-help content. And long will it continue.
But what I really love doing is curating, editing, sharing and promoting important information and stories (my first ‘Editor-in -Chief’ gig at 6 years old, hand-crafting and peddling my own magazines made from sheets of A4 and Kays catalogue cut outs, and featuring real-life issues, recipes and ‘free sweets’ sellotaped to the cover 😆).
I love learning about and sharing other people’s stories. I love connecting readers and writers through shared experiences and helping experts reach the people who need them.
I love interviewing, I love showcasing amazing writing. I even love proof-reading 🤓.
I love creating spaces that support writers and creatives to share their work and their message, and my biggest buzz doesn’t come from seeing my name at the top of an article, but in landing access to the people who I see creating majorly awesome lives and major impact, and then sharing their genius with you (just WAIT until you see who we’ve got lined up for March! 👀).
Attaining then hating then leaving a professional Editor role at the world’s biggest newspaper could mean that Editor's life isn’t for me.
Or it COULD just mean that that kind of Editor’s life isn’t for me.
Because I love being an Editor. And I’m good at it. And now, thanks to the magic of Substack, I’m able to do it on my own terms, creating my own dream job as Editor of my own corner of the internet, combining kick ass personal development content with the power and beauty of community as a force for good.
Last year I started using ‘Editor’ on my email auto signature and for a while that felt like a bold ‘who do you think you are’ move.
Now, it fits.
And I’ve been sitting on this email/the outing of myself as self-proclaimed Editor for a couple of weeks, wondering when I’d be brave enough to publish it.
(Again, I’m sure you don’t really care what I call myself, but I think we’ve established this is quite a big deal for me).
And then in a wonderfully synergetic turn of events I was invited to a mini Substack meetup yesterday on High St Kensington in West London. At a fancy restaurant smack bang opposite the scene of the crime (aka the media HQ of that last ‘real’ job). And pushing through the PTSD shudders as I passed through the Tube gates that I’d spent so many grim 6.30am commutes headed to, I spent a gorgeous couple of hours with a group of creative Substackers and women writers doing their thing in their own ways (shout out to
and 💛).I told them about my dream for my/this Substack - The Shelf Help Clubhouse - to become a place that supports self-help authors to tell their stories and share their wisdom, and a platform to connect publishers and writers with the people who need them, and my Substack mentor
told me that she already feels like visiting my Substack is like opening a thoughtfully curated magazine or newspaper filled with heart-led features and stories, and that she treats it as a destination to settle in to.Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.
Winston Churchill
Which couldn’t have been a more perfect thing to hear there on High St Ken, from someone I respect and definitely admire, ten years after I thought my Editor’s journey was over for good.
And so, it’s time. And so, here she is; my first Editor’s Letter. Written over the Atlantic as I head to Miami to spend a week’s working holiday in the sun. Because I can. Because I’ve designed a life and business that let’s me do that. Which is something 2015 TJ would have thought was probably impossible and definitely bloody ambitious.
NB These Monday letters won’t all be this long. In fact, the only difference you’ll start to see around here is more opportunities for writers and creatives in self-development to share their (your?) stories, and more ways for our readers and members to connect with the pros.
More to come in the next few weeks.
And in the meantime, I’d love to know what you’re ambitious for, and what your version of success looks - and feels - like? Please share with us in the Comments.
Thanks for reading and thanks for being here for the ride.
Big love from SHC HQ (currently on location in Miami :)).
Toni 💛
