Producing is exhausting, and we need to talk about it

Producing is often seen as a logistical role, but the emotional, financial and human labour behind it is what makes burnout so common. In this interview, producer Nassy Konan and her co-producers, Laura Sweeney and Ash Bowmott from The Uncultured, speak to us about why producers are especially prone to burnout and the thinking behind Pause, their new support resource for producers.

For someone new to producing, how would you describe what the role actually involves, beyond the logistics people usually see?

Nassy Konan: For me, producing is one of the most rewarding roles in the arts, but it’s also one of the most emotionally, mentally and physically demanding. At its core, a producer holds the creative, logistical, financial and human sides of a project all at once. You’re the person people look to for answers, stability, clarity and care – often while managing your own life, identity, survival and personal wellbeing.

It’s also worth saying that producing is a hard role to explain, both inside and outside the creative sector. Even other creatives don’t always fully understand what producers do, because there isn’t one fixed path. The role depends on your strengths, your interests and which parts of the creative world you feel called to.

Producing is often described as a high-pressure role. What are the main reasons it lends itself to burnout?

Laura Sweeney and Ash Bowmott, The Uncultured: Workplace burnout is most common in roles that involve people-work and managing multiple relationships, both of which are central to producing. That pressure is often intensified by the realities of working in the arts — especially if you’re freelance. Financial precarity, career uncertainty and the feeling that you’re only ever as good as the last thing you worked on all add to stress.

Not knowing whether you’ll be able to pay your bills next month is not good for stress. Neither is working across multiple projects at once, blurring personal and professional boundaries, or managing the emotional welfare of others without having been trained to do so.

Early in your careers, were there signs you were heading towards burnout that you didn’t recognise at the time?

Nassy: I mistook endurance and staying positive for success. I believed that constantly saying yes and staying available was part of proving myself. I didn’t recognise how often I was operating on autopilot – skipping rest, numbing my emotions and pushing through just to keep functioning.

At the time, this felt normal, even necessary, because the sector quietly rewards people who absorb pressure without complaint. With hindsight, I can see those behaviours for what they were: early signs of burnout, rather than resilience.

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Laura and Ash: For us, burnout crept up slowly. The first time, it moved from stressed-but-functioning to not being able to carry on at all. It felt like it came out of nowhere — but of course it didn’t.

Looking back, you can see where things escalated, but at the time it was the accumulation of so many small moments, combined with a general inability to escape or change the circumstances that caused them. Gradually, then suddenly, you’re burnt out.

Boundaries can feel risky early on. What’s one boundary you wish you’d put in place sooner – and why?

Nassy: I wish I’d learned sooner that urgency isn’t always real. Early on, I absorbed other people’s pressure as my own and felt responsible for holding everything together, even when it wasn’t sustainable.

I didn’t question timelines or workloads that quietly exceeded my capacity. Putting a clearer boundary around what was genuinely urgent, and what wasn’t, would have helped me protect my wellbeing while still showing care and professionalism.

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For someone who feels they’re coping but is constantly exhausted, what’s one early sign they shouldn’t ignore?

Laura and Ash: A sense of cynicism towards your work is easy to ignore, but really important to pay attention to. If you’ve always been energised by your work and believed in its purpose, suddenly feeling apathy – or even a kind of repulsion – towards it can be deeply unsettling.

That kind of constant negativity is corrosive. It can quietly erode your sense of self and your working relationships, especially if it doesn’t reflect how you usually think or feel.

What’s one small, realistic step an emerging producer could take now to protect their wellbeing?

Laura and Ash: Give yourself a work timetable – and then don’t work when the timetable says you’re not working. Tell people what those hours are, and ignore messages outside them. This is genuinely hard, and you won’t get it perfect, but it helps stop you being permanently available to every email that lands in your inbox.

Having an external structure can help with this. Caring responsibilities, for example, can make boundaries feel more legitimate and less like something you’re “indulging” yourself with.

Nassy: Another small step is to name how you work best and share it early. That might mean writing a short access note just for yourself — outlining what helps you stay well, how you process information, how much notice you need, and what drains you fastest.

When you’re clearer with yourself, it becomes easier to ask for what you need before things escalate. Protecting your wellbeing isn’t only about time; it’s also about reducing friction, misunderstanding and the quiet stress of constantly adapting yourself to systems that weren’t built with you in mind.

You describe Pause as a support rather than a solution. How do you hope people will use the resource in practice?

Laura and Ash: Burnout is increasing across every industry, so there’s no single solution. But that shouldn’t take away from the value of talking about it — especially through your specific working lens.

Producing is a workplace-based role, but as a freelancer you often don’t have a workplace, colleagues or access to sick leave. Producers frequently work alone, while being expected to be a “safe pair of hands” for everyone else. There can be a lot of stress and shame wrapped up in that.

We hope Pause can act as a companion – a reminder that you’re not alone, and a tool to help you reflect on how you’re feeling, or what you might be able to change.

Finally, what’s one thing you want emerging producers to remember as they start out?

Nassy: You don’t have to earn your place through suffering. Producing is often framed as something you survive before you’re allowed to feel confident or secure, but that isn’t true.

Your care, curiosity and integrity matter as much as your efficiency. You’re allowed to learn in public, to ask for support, and to shape a practice that reflects who you are – not just what the sector expects. The work needs you whole, not depleted.