10 things I’ve learnt from 10 years of handling cancellations

1. Most cancellations don’t last

Despite the drama, most cancellations are temporary. What feels like a career-ending scandal is often forgotten within weeks, unless there are legal outcomes or ongoing repeated behaviour.

I have seen clients panic, delete all their social media, and refuse to leave the house, only to quietly reappear with nobody noticing. The internet thrives on momentum. Once there is a new distraction, your downfall rarely feels as permanent as it does in the moment.

2. Most of the job is prevention, not response

The side of crisis PR the public never sees is prevention. The majority of my work is not about reacting to headlines, it is about stopping them appearing in the first place.

That can mean speaking with a clients angry ex-husband, preventing a malicious email chain from landing in journalists’ inboxes, or resolving an internal team dispute before it spills out. I spend more time on private interventions than I do on press statements. The best work is often invisible, and if I’ve done my job well, nobody will ever know I was there.

3. Timing in the media is about luck as much as behaviour

Social media can cancel anyone at any time, but whether mainstream press picks it up depends heavily on timing. A celebrity scandal is rarely “serious” news, but it makes excellent filler when the agenda is quiet.

August and September are peak months for cancellation stories because little else is happening. When the news is dominated by major events, such as the war in Palestine, cancellation coverage all but disappears. I once had a client who was convinced the press would run with their story - and they probably would have done, had it not been for a sudden political scandal that swallowed the news cycle for weeks. Timing is often the difference between a headline and a non-event.

4. Silence can be the smartest strategy, but only sometimes

Audiences hate silence, and interpret it as guilt. But in some situations, silence is the only responsible choice. Legal restrictions, contract negotiations, or even protecting someone’s mental health can make speaking impossible.

The difficulty is that silence looks suspicious even when it is not. I have sat in meetings where every instinct was telling a client to “say something,” but the legal advice was crystal clear that silence was safer. Knowing when to hold back, and when to break that silence, is one of the hardest calls in this job.

5. Playing it safe is rarely safe

A “safe” statement is often the riskiest option. Traditional PR firms will usually suggest silence or a bland holding line, but both can backfire in the modern world.

Social media pulls apart vagueness instantly. Audiences do not want the appearance of accountability, they want clarity. Sometimes a statement is the right move, but it is not a default tool, and in many cases it does more harm than good. I’ve been brought in alongside other PR firms who only offered a “safe” statement, while the reality required something much sharper and more strategic.

6. Mental health is a hidden minefield in this job

One of the hardest lessons I have learnt is that you cannot carry someone else’s mental health on your shoulders. That does not mean you do not care. In fact, part of the job is listening without judgement, and many clients share their darkest moments with you. People will tell you things they have not admitted to friends, family, or colleagues, and holding those secrets is a privilege, but also a weight.

There have been times where I have stayed professional on a call while hearing horrific things, including clients admitting they have had suicidal thoughts. Those conversations are incredibly dark, and harder to carry than anything the public ever sees. I have hung up, sat in silence for half an hour just to process what I have heard, and later found myself lying in bed replaying it all. They are heavy conversations, and they happen more often in this field than people realise.

That pressure is difficult to manage. I have read countless books on psychology and mental health, and even spoken with therapists to make sure I am responding in the right way when it happens. But there is a line. When a client begins tying their wellbeing directly to you, suggesting that your actions or decisions are responsible for how they feel, it becomes unprofessional and potentially dangerous to keep engaging.

It is even harder when you have built real friendships through the work. I would happily call many of my clients friends, and they would say the same. But when a contract ends, the expectation can linger that you will still always be there for them. Saying goodbye to someone who has trusted you with their darkest fears is one of the hardest parts of the job.

Ultimately, you are being paid to manage reputations, not to provide therapy. If you want to do this work, you need to understand psychology, but you also need to learn where the line is, for their safety and your own.

7. Friends are usually the biggest problem

If you ever work in crisis PR, expect friends of the client to be your biggest obstacles. Their loyalty is understandable, but they usually lack any grasp of how social media operates, how broadcasters are structured, how label contracts restrict output, or how legal clauses dictate what can be said.

They derail strategy with emotion, insist on rewrites, and block necessary decisions, convinced they know best. I have had friends of clients insist on rewriting statements word-for-word, only to make them unusable. In reality, friends can do more reputational damage than strangers ever will.

8. You will work with people you disagree with

If you cannot sit in a room with people who hold different views, this is not the job for you. In all walks of life, you will work with people you disagree with, but in crisis PR it becomes far more personal because of how closely you are involved. Clients will share private fears, long-term strategies, and parts of their lives that few others see.

You would be in a very luxurious position to cherry-pick only clients whose values perfectly align with your own. That is simply not the reality of working in any field, and certainly not in PR. The role is not about whether you agree with them, it is about whether you can hear them out, understand their perspective, and handle their situation professionally.

9. Contracts and structures dictate everything

One of the most frustrating parts of this work is watching a one-minute TikTok confidently telling the world “what so-and-so should have done.” The reality is always more complicated. Broadcaster clauses, label deals, brand partnerships, family worries, all of these dictate what can and cannot be said.

Half of what the public thinks they know is incorrect, and behind the scenes we are sitting around a table going through a dozen contracts to find the safest option. Strategy is not just about reputation. It is about legal obligations, financial exposure, and very real personal lives. None of that shows up in a viral explainer video.

10. The apology is just the beginning (and often the worst thing you can do)

I try to avoid apologies unless someone has clearly, unequivocally done wrong. If a client insists they are innocent and they can prove it, I will never recommend apologising. It is the worst thing you can do. In legal terms, an apology can even be interpreted as an admission of liability, with consequences in courtrooms, contract disputes, and insurance claims.

When an apology is the right step, it is not the finish line. It is just the opening move. What happens afterwards, the rebuilding, the silence, the careful re-entry into public life, is what decides whether someone recovers or not.