I wrote The Problem With The Book Publishing Industry not long after I was rejected for the hundredth time for my first book. Suffice it to say, I was incredibly emotional during this time, alternating between depression and anger. That anger, though tamed as much as possible, ended up directed at the publisher. The “Big Dogs,” if you will, or “The System,” or “The Man.”
Getting angry at “The Man” is a cool and easy thing to do. Feeling down and out? Blame it on the man! Just got rejected over a career opportunity? It’s the man bringing you down! Granted, there are instances where “The Man” is bringing the little guy down but I won’t expand on that here.
A new perspective
“Why do you do it?” This is the question Jane Friedman posed in her book, The Business of Being a Writer, directed at editors and publishing industry professionals, AKA, “The Man.”
The answer most “Big Dogs” said surprised me. “My work is important to society, art, or culture,” most answered. “What we do matters to life as we know it.”
These words slapped me across the face like a mother smacking some sense into her son. Instantly, I felt so guilty over my initial publishing post. I wanted to open up my laptop, delete the post, and forever hide my face from Anthony Q. Farrell, a writer for the Office who was kind enough to share my post on Twitter (which I deleted for other reasons and intend to keep it deleted.)
After that initial reaction (and calming myself the fuck down), I sat down to think about…
… The artist and the publisher
Since the beginning of time, there has always been an ongoing war between the artist and the publisher—of the artist’s quest to create art that is meaningful to them and the publisher’s quest to sell art that will, well, sell.
As a fan, it’s easy to side with the artist. As an artist myself, it’s easier to label the publisher as this big bad wolf whose mission is to punch down on the little guy. Again, there are big bad wolves out there, I know that, but there are good ones too—men and women who are hungry to represent and champion a book that matters.
Which gets me thinking…
… Why was my first book rejected?
Goodness, there are so many reasons I could break down but to save you and me the time and trouble, I’ll boil it down to one: I wasn’t ready.
2018-2022 can be seen as my “college” years as a writer. Granted, I never finished college, never got an MFA, and never even attended a single writer’s workshop that told me how to think and act like a “good writer.” Nope. I was my own goddamn teacher. I taught myself how to write a book, the basics of self-publishing, as well as the fundamentals of traditional publishing.
I graduated from my “college” in 2022, full of hope and confidence that my first book (my first job) would be “The One.”
It wasn’t.
I ended up experiencing the full scope of Thanos’s words in Infinity War…
“In time, you will know what it's like to lose. To feel so desperately that you're right. Yet to fail all the same.”
I failed because I wasn’t ready as a writer. Not in my craft, and not in the business.
Moving forward
Failure is a catalyst for change. Suffering is a catalyst for change. And boy oh boy, my first book failed so badly it left me contemplating suicide, convinced I wasted four years of my life and that writing wasn’t my calling after all.
But it is. God fucking damn it, it is.
“Why do we fall, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”
I’ve picked myself back up and then some. And, more importantly, I’ve altered my thinking towards the publishers. “Publishers are friends, not food.” Or, in more concise terms, they’re partners who want what we writers want: to publish a book that matters.
We need each other.
The lone writer devoted to the craft needs the publisher to help champion their book. (Keyword, help. Even a writer must put effort into marketing and promoting in a way that best suits them.)
And the publisher needs art (an amazing product) from the writer.
I want the tide to lift all boats: the publisher, my agent, the reader, me, and society. One great book can spark an idea. And one great idea can change the world.
“We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world.”
— V for Vendetta