Subscribe to RSS 2.0Perforating people's dreams
Em and I often hear about the sadness of authors who are desperate - or at least very determined - to get published - and very frustrated if it doesn't happen. I'm not talking about Snowbooks' authors (potential or actual); I'm thinking of stories you see in the news or tales you read on someone's blog, often rather heartbreaking ones.
As with most things, publishing seems less glamorous from the inside (though both Em and I make a point of dressing in snappy 1940s outfits, working only in crisp art deco premises, and making sure our hair is always immaculate).
To some prospective authors, getting published is a portal that leads to a different life, a different world. It is also an acknowledgement, perhaps even a vindication. Or I'm sure it can seem like the chance to earn a living in a way that nourishes rather than withers your soul. In fact I suspect there are as many reasons for wanting to be published as there are authors (or at any rate, more than half a dozen).
What worries Em and me is that from this side of the curtain, on the nuts and bolts side of the book business, the act of being published seems like a very small step into a world which may be just as inhospitable as the unpublished one - perhaps even more so because setbacks become much more personal when your heart's desire is mixed up with your work.
I've sold maybe 75,000 books in a dozen or so languages - I mean ones I've written not published - and I can't say that it's changed anything. Some days I think it proves that I can write, that I know what I'm doing, but then other days I'll think about bad reviews I've had and how completely scornful they can be of my talents and I think perhaps it doesn't prove anything. And you may think to yourself, 'oh, but I won't get bad reviews', because of the quality of your work, but if what you're trying to do is in any way ambitious and original (as opposed to telling fun stories, which is all I try to do) you're even more likely to be floccinaucinihilipilificated*, if for no other reason than that your writing is misunderstood.
And most authors, particularly of literary fiction, won't sell anywhere near 75,000 copies of their work. Ten thousand copies would be pretty good going for a novel. And that isn't enough to live on or get you noticed. And even quite strong sales don't automatically lead on to anything else or open any doors. And, since books are generally bought before they're read, you don't even know how many of your readers enjoyed, or even finished your book.
I know all this is rather depressing for both published and unpublished authors alike - assuming you believe a word of it - but if it makes someone question why they want to be published and have a conversation with themselves about it, then it will be a good thing. Not because I want to put anyone off. Personally, I am forever doing things that are unlikely to succeed, and I'm happier for it. But when you get published one of two things is likely to happen and you need to be prepared for either outcome. Scenario One: nothing changes. It's all a huge anticlimax. The grass still needs cutting, no one takes you any more seriously than they did last week (and your parents still treat you like you're twelve). Or Scenario Two: your book sells enough copies or (more likely) has enough marketing spend behind it to make a splash. You do book signings, radio and press interviews, you give talks. You constantly have to answer questions about your work and you have to talk about what you're working on next. You have to have photos taken of you and then read about what you were like - and probably how attractive you were - in the paper. The good news is that you can now pay bills with money you made from writing. The bad news is that in order to make the same income as a good computer programmer you'll probably have to go on book tours, give Q&As at festivals and meet thousands of people and be judged by them. Someone who wanted fame would be better off being famous for something else. And someone who didn't want fame could certainly finder a better paying job that involved less scrutiny and criticism.
Personally, I think I have it just right. Maybe you don't believe me if I say I wouldn't want Joanna Rowling's success, or even a fraction of it, but I wouldn't. I want to sell few enough books to be virtually unheard of, but still enough that I make minimum wage, or thereabouts, for the time I spend writing. I want obscurity, without total penury. So I think I'm fairly objective about being A Published Author. And the purpose of this post is just to make sure that you are too.
And if anyone out there wants to share their reasons for wanting to be published, I'd love to hear them. A book deal and a six-figure advance to the best answer. Hmmm. Is that joke funny or just cruel? Anyway, that's publishing for you.
* I thought it might be nice if that word was, just once, used for something other than scoring highly in a word game.
Comments: 10
When I started out writing I thought getting published would mean I was a 'success' and magically irradicate all insecurities and fears that come with writing. I'm starting to realise that being published brings its own problems. The thought of having someone breathing down my neck while writing a follow-up novel is intense. At least at the moment I'm learning my new trade in relative privacy and not in full view!
Posted by: Yvonne on February 13, 2008 10:48 AM
As Michele Roberts once wisely remarked, only write a novel if there's no alternative.
Posted by: Sarah Bower on February 13, 2008 11:10 AM
When I wrote the first novel, it was because I was passionate about the characters and I wanted to see if I could do it. I wanted to get swept up in it.
When I got done, I thought, okay, I'll give this submitting thing a go, not quite believing anyone would publish me. But if they did, mostly I just hoped that someone out there would enjoy the story. That it would move them in some way, give them some enjoyment. I had my head on straight, knowing writers (most) don't get rich, and all that.
Then it happened. You're going to publish me, and I just got round to where I don't pinch myself every single day.
What will happen now? I don't know. I'm sure some of it will be tiresome, and some of it will be welcome, and everything in between.
I have my dreams, but I'm not counting on them being reality.
(Hey, expect the worst, so when something good happens, you're pleasantly surprised. Right?)
Posted by: S.Roit on February 13, 2008 12:26 PM
Change the world.
Posted by: Zos on February 13, 2008 02:10 PM
I think the general public read so much about the likes of JKR or Pratchett and automatically presume that their book (which has been inside them for too many years) will be an instant success, earn them a decent crust and a Scottish castle.
To this day, I still scratch my head as to why I continually throw money at publishing books which no-one will read, yet I can't help myself since I love the process that is involved, from working with authors, artists, and dealing with the occasional order... it's masochism, I tell you!
Posted by: Chris on February 13, 2008 02:22 PM
I don’t want fame, and I don’t imagine that writing will ever make me rich. I don’t fantasise about driving round in an Aston Martin… well OK, I do… but only because they're the dreamiest motors on the planet, not because I think my writing will earn me one.
I just want to see my novel in bookshops, and to know I created it. To think that someone is reading it and enjoying it. To have the validation that someone in the business likes my story enough to turn that ream of A4 into a printed book.
Posted by: Dee Weaver on February 13, 2008 05:09 PM
I am desperate because I am desperate. I believe that my books are worth something, and being published will show me that they are, even if only to the people who agreed to publish them. I would like my books to secure my retirement--because I once had faith that they were populist enough to do so--but I know it's unlikely, and now that I've lost the hopefulness that kept the rejections bouncing off me, I'm not really so desperate anymore. It was a mixed desperation: for getting all the ideas on paper satisfactorily, and seeing them in print, in market. Now it's something sadder, because I don't have time for getting the ideas on paper even hastily. I don't know which is worse - losing that deep-seated desire backed up by miles of hope and belief, that you WILL see your book in a store one day, or losing the desire to set the words down anyway, even if they're never read by anybody who doesn't know you. Maybe it's worse to keep hoping, and getting your hopes dashed? I don't know.
Oops, I poured my heart out. Oh well. I hope I'm among friends.
Posted by: KatharineC on February 13, 2008 07:27 PM
Well said, Katherine. I think we’ll never give up hoping while heart won't listen to head.
*sigh*
Posted by: Dee Weaver on February 13, 2008 08:53 PM
I refuse to accept the conventional definition of success. And I too think I've got one thing, at least, right: the reason I write at all. I know I will never master this magnificent tool of ours - language - but it's the very discrepancy between what I've achieved and what I could achieve in fiction which keeps me going. Someplace, somewhere (over that rainbow) is the perfect novel or perfect short story; somewhere the perfect meeting ground of style and content.
Readers hardly matter to me. And sales, not at all. I only laugh at the machinations of publicists. But if you want to apply some conventional measure of success to my work, I'm not doing too badly, you know - at the moment 50-100 downloads of MORTAL GHOST per day, ca. 15000 podcast downloads to date. And just wait for CORVUS, which is a far better, far tighter novel, to be serialised online!
Posted by: Lee on February 14, 2008 07:53 AM
'I just want to see my novel in bookshops,... To think that someone is reading it and enjoying it. To have the validation that someone in the business likes my story enough to turn that ream of A4 into a printed book.'
Dee, I'm with you on this. I write because I enjoy the process (and in some way need to for my own sanity). But it's not just about therapy. It's about creating something that others can relate to and which might enrich their lives as mine has been enriched by other writers. It's about knowing enough of the craft to get the story that's in my head on to the page, and the only sure fire way of knowing I've been successful on any significant scale is to be taken on by a publisher.
I know many published writers who aren't happy with their lot, and one in particular whose work has fallen from grace and is no longer able to get published, but like me she still chases the dream.
Rob - you're not the first one to issue warnings, but I'll take a chance on anti-climax or unwanted fame. (If nothing else it will make a change!) Thanks for the chance to sound off (again!)
Alison
Posted by: Alison on February 16, 2008 02:05 PM