I want to take some time out of the usual activity of this blog to reflect upon the activity of writing and publication.
I have published two novels, “Gone to the Dogs” and its unofficial prequel “Thryke: The Man That Nobody Knew.” These have both been self-published. The first, I did query with a few agents; the second, I did not.
Social media allows me to see the trials and tribulations of many fellow writers. Many have the dream of being traditionally published. I shared this dream for many years and, in fact, still do, but I have come to realise that this may not come to pass.
The problem, for me, is embodied in the word “traditional.” Traditional means something longstanding and embedded into habit and normality. Tradition sits outside of a world that is constantly changing. These touchstones offer us continuity and the illusion of understanding in a world the otherwise seems chaotic and scary.
So what was the traditional path to publication? It came through querying your work to a few agents and hopefully picking up one who would be interested in representing you. In exchange for a small percentage of your future earnings, the agent would place your book with an appropriate publishing house and look after all of the contractual side of things, ensuring you, as the author, got the best deal that was available.
The secondary benefit of this arrangement was enjoyed by the consumer. The system described inevitably came with a degree of quality control. As a reader, you knew that the book you were about to tuck into had been through several loops and sets of eyes. Even if the story wasn’t quite your thing, you at least knew there would not be a slew of spelling and grammatical errors.
You could have confidence that the novel had been deemed acceptable and, critically, marketable. If you didn’t like it, it was likely to be a matter of style or subject, but at least you had something to debate with your fellow bibliophiles. But things were about to change.
The internet arrived, and several huge companies followed.
With the internet came the promise of online publishing. You no longer needed to find an agent and a publishing house. You could do it yourself. The landscape was shifting.
I tried to find a reliable data source for the number of books published, either traditionally or otherwise, in 2020, but it has proved tough. So I am going to make a series of educated guesses. I will suggest that the number of books published globally last year was four million. I am further going to assert that ten per cent of those were traditionally published. While these are mind-boggling numbers, I will suggest further that a) I am not far off, and b) this is a tenfold increase on ten to twenty years ago.
But has the book-buying revenue increased at the same level?
I would say not. Data suggest that the average book sells less than a thousand copies in its lifetime.
I recently watched an interview with the celebrated mathematician and author of the marvellous book “Antifragility,” Nassim Nicholas Taleb.
He described writing as a “scalable” profession. The logic is sound. As a writer, I only have to write a book once, but I can sell it again, and again, and again. Each time I sell one book, I do not have to write another to replace it.
Taleb compares this to a sandwich-seller. Her profession is not scalable. When she sells a unit of her product, she must make another to replace it.
The problem with scalable professions is that they create a “winner takes all” environment. People, especially here in the UK, complain about the money that footballers earn. But the truth is that most of the money is acquired by a very limited number of players. In the lower leagues, there will be players struggling to make a living.
The same is true of musicians, and of course, writers.
Taleb estimates that around 50% of the book-buying profits are earned by between ten to fifteen individuals.
This one fact puts a hugely different complexion on the concept of “traditional” publishing. Let’s be honest now. If I am an agent, I need to make a living. As much as I love literature and books, that love will never pay my mortgage and keep me in groceries. I need money for that. So I need to back a winner. This circumstance creates a tremendous paradox. Do I stick with the authors I know, or do I visit my submissions pile, hoping to find the next gem?
While it is probably a bit of both, some books I might have taken a chance on in years gone past, I now have to reject. These books may potentially end up being self-published. And that is where the work begins – not where it ends. Today’s successful self-published author is now a master of marketing and social media too.
But the difficulty of reaching an audience remains. Some absolutely succeed; many don’t. Another layer of “winner takes all” is created. But while there remains the chance of being spotted, and while we have stories we are desperate to tell, we will continue to create content for the world. Some will be great; some will be shockers. But even Franz Kafka was unappreciated during his lifetime, right?
Many reading this won’t mind either way, however. And I think that I don’t now. I’m just happy to have something to write and the challenge of how to get it out. For most of us, that is enough.