Why Trad Publishing Still Appeals
Okay, I may get some pushback for this. I may also change my mind. I would love to hear other people’s opinions, particularly those of you who are currently in the industry, given the current landscape, the current machinery — I think that’s probably a better term for this — of the publishing world as a whole, both traditional and independent (“trad” and “indie”).
The only real reason for an author to pursue traditional publishing, to go after a trad contract, to get a literary agent…is for ego. Is for validation.
I want to clarify immediately that neither of those things are negative or bad or wrong.
I want an agent. I haven’t had an agent for a while. Every once in a great while I will write a book that I think might merit traditional publishing, that might have a market in traditional publishing, and I will try to get an agent. I don’t try very hard. I approach maybe 10 agents instead of the 50 to 100 that you really need to approach. But I still want an agent.
And after looking at my finances and my career and the way the world of publishing is operating right now, the only real reason I have to go after that particular type of deal is because there’s a self-esteem issue in myself where I want to be able to tell all my author friends, “Hey, I got a new agent. Hey, I got a deal with Random House or Simon & Schuster or whoever.” And that’s really it.
The Money Isn’t There
Because functionally, the money isn’t there. The odds of you or I seeing a debut novel with a six-figure advance is vanishingly small. (It’s always been vanishingly small.)
That changes from time to time, depending on the market. Some genre will become very hot, and a few people are able to time it, mostly on accident, to where they are able to jump in and catch and ride a wave.
Which, frankly, is what happened to me.
My debut novel got almost a six-figure advance. For one book that wasn’t a series. That was for one book.
And for about five to seven years or so of my career, which is about 15 or 16 years old now, I was making what I would call a living wage writing fiction, writing one book a year, plus doing some school visits and conferences and conventions, getting speaking fees here and there, that kind of thing. They’re sort of a, I guess I would call it “subsidiary” type of income that you can make once you’ve published with a trad publisher. That is one of the advantages to having an agent and having professional publishing credits behind you: you get invited to stuff.
And I miss getting invited to stuff. But honestly, I don’t even miss the money that comes with being invited. I just miss being invited. That’s a personal issue between me, myself, and I.
If Your Goal Is a Living Wage
I would stake my flag in this hill:
If your goal writing fiction is to generate a living wage — and you can determine for yourself how much that is — you are far and away better served learning how the indie world works and doing that.
The odds of you getting an agent are extraordinarily low. The odds of that agent then licensing your book for a livable wage are also very small. The odds of you being able to maintain that livable wage over the course of years: virtually impossible.
Most Writers Still Need Another Job
Most traditionally published authors have other jobs (primarily teaching, but I, for example, work part-time at a library). And/Or they have married somebody who has a job that could support them, which is also my situation, and is definitely the situation for most of my other published friends.
There’s Nothing Wrong With Wanting Trad
There is nothing at all wrong with you wanting to publish trad. There’s nothing at all wrong with you wanting to have your book on the bookshelf at Barnes & Noble (about which I have stories and why you might wanna reconsider). There’s nothing wrong with it. Okay?
My point in all of this is that I just need you to be exceptionally honest with yourself as to why you want the one or the other.
If you’re somebody who likes direct contact with your fans, then my dude, you gotta go indie. If you’re somebody who really wants to make a living at this, then you have to go indie.
Traditional publishing does offer you a certain sense of credibility. Sure. It can offer money. It usually doesn’t, but it can, absolutely.
The High of Recognition
And it feels good.
Please don’t misunderstand me here. It 100% feels good. First time you walk into Barnes & Noble and see your book on the shelf, it’s a great day. It’s happened to me nine times so far, and it’s awesome. It’s truly awesome.
It also doesn’t pay the bills. Plus, that feeling goes away very quickly. But it is a drug, and you do get addicted to it. You get addicted to people wanting to talk to you. You get addicted to people wanting to know about process and all that kind of stuff, and asking you advice.
I still have memories of certain conventions and conferences where I’ve been treated like an absolute rock star, and it’s great. I’m not gonna lie to you. If that’s what you think is gonna happen, it does, and it feels phenomenal.
And then it stops…
What You’re Left With
And all you have is the process. All you have is the writing. And son, if you’re not in love with the writing, if you’re not in love with the process, you really need to reconsider what you’re doing, especially if your goal is trad.
Why I’d Rather Run My Own Business
A lot of people don’t understand that it’s a business. It’s a business whether you do trad or otherwise, it doesn’t matter. It’s still a business, and you’re gonna have to learn the business regardless of which direction you go in. That’s also something that is true that people don’t like to hear about, but you do.
Because the thing about traditional is they can fuck you, and there is nothing you can do about it. And that’s just the reality, and it happens. Not that they’re out to hurt you, because they’re not. It’s not that. It’s that they’re a business, and they’re in the business to make money. And if you’re not making the money, guess what? You’re kind of done.
So, just something to kinda think about.
We’re living in a difficult time.(A lot of us, anyway…)
And we’re juggling all of it: physical health, financial health, mental health, relational health, social health, spiritual health.
All of these things take up mental AND physical energy.
THEY. DO.
We can’t beat ourselves up for that. These are real pressures. Real responsibilities. Real drains on our attention, our bodies, our nervous systems, and our ability to sit down and make things.
My back is all messed up right now because I slept funny the other night. This is day three of my back, neck, and shoulder being angry at me.
And I’m doing what I can about it.
But I’m also probably going to have to wait for it to get better.
Which means I haven’t accomplished all the physical goals I wanted to accomplish over the last few days.
But you know what I did today?
I made a real, healthy breakfast for myself and my wife.
That is a win.
I’m banking that win. I’m giving myself full credit for that win.
I also haven’t done as much writing as I wanted to do the last few days. And that sucks and it pisses me off.
But right now, I’m also on call for work. I have to wait and see if I get called in.
So instead of pretending I have a perfect, open, magical writing day, I’m going to ask: What can I actually do today?
Maybe I can write one paragraph.
Maybe I can revise one page.
Maybe I can fix one scene.
Maybe I can answer one email.
Maybe I can make one note that helps me find my way back into the book tomorrow.
That counts.
Micro goals really do stack up. And beating ourselves up for not accomplishing more does not help us accomplish more.
Now, yes, there’s a flip side to this. Self-discipline matters. Showing up matters. Doing the work matters. I believe all of that.
But that’s not what I’m talking about today.
Today I’m talking about acknowledging reality.
Sometimes things are hard. Sometimes life gets heavy. Sometimes your back hurts, your money is weird, your schedule is unstable, your brain is tired, and the big heroic version of the day you imagined is just not going to happen.
So reduce the expectation.
Ask:
What would count as a win today?
One sentence?
One page?
One scene?
Revising a query letter?
Opening the document and reading Chapter 14 so you remember what the hell you were doing?
Fine. That’s the win. Take it.
Give yourself credit. Because those wins matter.
And if you keep collecting them, they start to stack. The micro goals get bigger. The momentum comes back. The work starts moving again.
You’ve got this.
Keep writing.