When my clinic dies and the idea for a book was bornWelcome to The Business of Psychology. This is a short series to let you behind the curtain on my journey to publishing my first book, You Are Doing Enough. I'm not doing this as a polished, look how easy this was, success type story. I'm doing it because I know so many of you listening are therapists and psychologists who have your own book idea sitting somewhere, and I really want you to hear what the process has actually been like, and my tips for getting that book out of your head and onto the page. I talk about what got me motivated and into the zone for writing the book, because I have wanted to write a book for a very long time, and have started many books that I never finished. I've written 30,000 words and thrown them away time and time again, but this felt different from the very beginning. I want to talk about why I think this was different from ideas that haven't gone anywhere before, then in the next episode, I'll talk about what I did to enable myself to write the book, and then I'll talk about the steps I took to get an agent because this book will be traditionally published. Later in the year, we'll do a few more episodes about the nuts and bolts of publishing and selling a book, and hopefully that will coincide with the book's release date. It’s due to be published in May 2027, and is already open for pre-orders. Full show notes for this episode are available at The Business of Psychology Rosie on Instagram: @rosiegilderthorp @drrosiegilderthorp Pre Order You Are Doing Enough and get access to Get Your Book Published with Louise BuckleyClick here to pre-order You Are Doing Enough Pre-ordering now gets you a ticket to Get Your Book Published with Louise Buckley (literary agent) live on 6th November at 11:30 (replay available); just fill in this form after purchasing: https://psychologybusinessschool.mykajabi.com/offers/rGsNE9iF The moment I knew this had to be a bookI have written the beginnings of many books before. I write a lot. I write for my Substack, I write for other organizations' blogs. I write materials for Psychology Business School. I write materials for my clients. I really love writing. It's always been a passion of mine. But the idea of writing a book always intimidated me, partly because I don't know that I have the kind of brain that finds it easy to structure something as long as a book. I have lots of ideas, I’m quite good at the actual putting of words on the page in a way that is engaging for people. But I've never been sure that I could hold somebody's attention for an entire book, because that seems like a real art of pacing, and knowing where to put the major learning points. I think that's why I'd started lots of books and then been like, "I don't know how to bring this home as a complete book that somebody would actually want to read from start to finish." Then I’d lose my enthusiasm because I couldn't imagine it being successful. As you're probably thinking to yourselves, that is a form of imposter syndrome, and it's exactly the same as the imposter syndrome that I coach people through all the time when they're starting their businesses. Because actually writing a book is a skill, and if you put your mind to it, you can learn a new skill, and I just hadn't been allowing myself the time or the opportunity to invest in learning that skill, probably because deep in my heart I was worried I didn't have it in me to do it. Those were all the reasons I hadn't written a book before, but this one felt different, and I think that's because it came in a moment of my life which felt a bit like a crisis. As some of you may be aware, I quite suddenly lost the childcare that I'd been relying on to run my clinical practice, and it was really difficult. It's a moment I talk about in the book because as other parents of autistic, otherwise neurodivergent, or children with learning disabilities will know, finding childcare for a child whose needs are unusual is really difficult. For a couple of years, I'd thought it was impossible for us, and that meant that my working time had to be very limited. That meant my clinical time was extremely limited, because for good reasons we need to have very protected and secure childcare for clinical hours, slightly less so for coaching and writing work. I'd always managed a few clinical hours a week, but I really wanted to scale that up. We'd moved back to Kent, where I've got much more of a support network, and I was really excited about having an in-person practice again. I had a lovely premises in town, and I really put my back into filling up the books. We had found some childcare to support that, and she was brilliant. My son, who was the person who most needed that individualized support from her, formed a really close relationship with her. She was great. But unfortunately, for valid and important reasons, she needed to leave us. She gave in her notice at about six months and left us after nine. As you can imagine, having put all of that work into building up my practice, to then need to wind it down again so quickly when I knew there wasn't going to be somebody else around the corner was devastating. But what was really interesting to me was there was no part of me that wanted to start looking for a replacement. I knew as soon as she gave me her resignation that I would not replace her. I knew that I was ready to embrace a new chapter in our lives, and that would involve a different way of working. Rather than just trying to plug gaps in childcare to make my old model work again, which is what I'd been doing for the past five years or so, I was ready to recognize that what my children need from me is different, and that actually I want to be the one that is around for the unpredictable pickup times, the reduced timetables, the meetings, and that I could not bear to bring in a conveyor belt of people who my kids would attach to and would then leave them. I knew that I wasn't going to put them through that. I tend to make big decisions quite instinctively, and I knew immediately that my clinic was going to close and this time there was not going to be a plan to reopen the doors. But that didn't make it any easier. I was certain, but I was really sad, and the grief hit me quite hard because it felt like a final acknowledgement that the career that I'd imagined for myself, which was already looking pretty different to the one that I'd been sitting in training at Salomon's imagining, but this was the moment where I accepted that I probably wasn't going to return to that path, and that seeing lots of clients wasn't going to be in my future, at least for a long while. So that was really difficult. Something I know about myself is that I tend not to sit for very long with the way that I feel about things, and that's something I often work on with my clinical clients. A lot of the clients that I was supporting at the time were also parents of neurodivergent children and children with learning disabilities, many of whom had come to me because they'd also been through traumatic experiences. I noticed that something that I work with regularly with my clients was this idea of allowing the grief to be there, and that we all had different ways that we needed to sit with that. My clients tend to be a bit like me and very often dive into action. I noticed that because I wasn't doing what I've always done when we've had a big shock or a big change in the family, which is immediately think of a resilience plan, I wasn't doing that. I was like, "It's not going to work, my plan is not to replace this part of my income straight away. My plan is to allow this to go for the time being." So I felt like I needed an outlet to help me process what that meant for my identity, so I started writing. When I started, I wasn't writing a book. I thought it might be a Substack series or something I didn't publish. I was really writing to consolidate my thoughts about what we'd been through, what my children have been through, what myself and my husband have been through as parents, what I've been through as a professional. I was trying to make sense of it; it was my attempt to make sense, made ink. We've got lots of question marks over the labels that we use for neurodivergence, the diagnostic process, I had so many questions about all of that. What it meant for my children, what it meant for me, what it meant for the future. All of that uncertainty pinging around in my head, combined with not knowing how we're going to make this family life work, how I'm going to make my professional life work. I just thought, this is too much for one mind, I need to put this on paper in order to process it. So I started doing that. It was taking the form of shorter form articles because that's what I'm used to writing, but they weren't really designed to be read by anybody or go anywhere. I started doing that, and I set it up as a practice for myself that I was going...
