Writing vs. The Business of Writing

When I was first coming up as a writer, it wasn’t all that easy to find insider information about the publishing industry or things like what’s selling or what editors and agents are looking for. I remember, for example, going to an AWP event in 2017 where Chris Jackson, editor and publisher of One World, was on a panel full of Big 5 editors.

At the end of the event, I waited on a long line to speak with Chris. I asked him a question I was dying to get the answer to: “So, how much does a plot matter when it comes to selling a novel? Do I really need one?”

Chris looked around for a moment, as if to suggest, is this guy serious? Then he kindly responded, without laughing, but sort of smirking, “Yes. It’s pretty important.”

I walked away from this interaction feeling like I’d been struck by a bolt of insight. Plot matters! My novel needs to have a plot! Eureka!

To some of you—especially those of you who are writers trying to break into this business and reading all the things about publishing being shared on platforms like Substack today—the fact that an editor at a large publishing house was looking for a novel that had a compelling plot and narrative thrust sounds obvious. But to me, at 26, in a time before a platform like Substack existed, this was life-changing information that made the expenses to get to AWP in the first place feel worthwhile.

Thankfully, things are much simpler now.

Today, if you want to hear what notable editors at publishing houses across the spectrum from the Big 5 to respected indie presses are looking for, you can just subscribe to their newsletters. In fact there are newsletters for every aspect of the industry these days—from the perspective of publicists, agents, booksellers, sales reps, and more. This is not even counting the growing cottage industry of writers on here who offer craft advice. (I am occasionally among this crew.)

As someone who mostly made my way during a time when online resources weren’t so plentiful—and, more importantly, weren’t so free—I think this is all great.

I love that writers have a wealth of industry information at their fingertips—especially those who are on the outside. Meaning those who don’t live in New York City, never attended an MFA, don’t know anybody who works in publishing, and don’t know the conventions of what goes in a query letter and what doesn’t.

Clearly, if you pay attention to the metrics on Substack, there is a demand for this information, too.

Posts about the business of writing and the industry—whether they are genuinely trying to shed light, only pretend they know what they’re talking about, meant to complain, or do something in between—are being read, and being read widely. I myself have read many of these pieces, and found some of them informative and useful for one reason or another.

Again, this is all great.

Yet lately, I’ve wondered if despite how wonderful it is that all this information is now out there, there might also be a real danger in guzzling too much of it—and especially during periods and seasons in a creative life when the focus on what I’ll call the “business of writing” should be basically nonexistent and the focus on the act of writing itself should be all encompassing.

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I think about myself back before I had a book deal, back when I had a manuscript I thought was good (it wasn’t) and was just trying to figure out what the hell I needed to do to get published (Plot! You don’t say!).

I remember how obsessive I could get trying to think through the machinations of what this industry wanted or didn’t want from me—this despite having a fraction of the information you all have now. For years, it drove me nuts and made me second guess my writing at every stage. Instead of thinking: Is this something that excites me; something that feels original to me? I was too busy thinking: Is this something that looks like what I think the publishing houses are looking for?

“Think” being the operative word here. Because let’s face it, if the publishing industry really knew what specific formula works and what doesn’t, they’d run that play over and over and have a hell of a lot more money.

At the end of the day, what I’m trying to get at here boils down to a question of inputs and outputs.

If, as you’re working on that manuscript of yours, all you’re reading is “Top Ten Things Agents are Looking For As of 5 Minutes Ago,” or “5 Signs I Know Your Novel Is Wack as Fuck” or “Why Your Novel Needs to Be Literary and Commercial and Romantic at the Same Time” or “Because You Didn’t Sell This Specific Amount of Books You Should Take Up Candle-Making Instead”, there is a very good chance that one of two things will happen: 1) You will despair, give up, and never complete you manuscript and never know what might have happened if you saw it all the way through. 2) You will do all types of twists and turns to stamp out whatever unique qualities that made you, out of everyone else in the world, want to write this one specific story and fill it with things that only you could come up with and replace all that for whatever the flavor of the day is on the bestseller list.

Now, I’m not blaming anyone for going down these rabbit holes. We all want to be published. We all want to see our books in stores, do Q&As, travel, sign deals, and be recognized. That’s natural. It’s also natural—and smart—to be aware of what is going on in a given industry you’re trying to break into. Nor am I blaming, by the way, the many newsletter writers out here genuinely trying to demystify the industry—many of whom do a great job of it.

My point is that I think we have to keep in mind that there is a time and place for this level of sustained interest and care. And in my opinion, that time and place is when whatever you’re working on is done. When you’ve already put yourself through the ringer of drafting, revising, getting feedback, revising, putting it aside, picking it up, revising yet again and on and on until you feel like you’ve not only made something that only you could make, but also executed it to the very best of your abilities at this moment in time.

When all that is said and done, and you’re ready to send out to agents or you agent is ready to send it out to editors, bueno, vaya con dios and ingest all the business/industry-specific information that you want.

At that point, it will probably be very useful. And at that point you’ll at least have a good idea of what your book is and isn’t. Things will likely change as you move along the process—get an agent, get a publishing deal and so forth—but you will have already solidified a vision for this thing, and spent time creating it to align with that vision, largely unimpeded by the voices of the outside world and whatever book recently went viral on TikTok or whatever post recently went viral on Substack.

But if you start doing that research too early, and start going down those rabbit holes too early, it can make you second-guess the strange personal ideas that’ll make your writing worth reading in the first place. You can also find yourself undermining a fundamental principle about art, which is that, often, the “market” doesn’t know what the fuck it wants until something new and unexpected slaps it in the face.

I’m not speaking as some holy authority, by the way. These are all reminders for me, too. As I mentioned, I consume this content, too, and find a lot of value in it. But of late, I’ve pulled back pretty dramatically on that consumption. Mostly because it’s not all that useful to me. I’m in the throes of a new draft, and all I want to focus on is writing some fun, interesting shit. All I want to do is cut out all the noise that might get in the way of that process. And right now, a lot of this content I’m talking about, no matter how valuable it may be, just feels like a lot of noise.

So this is just a PSA, I guess.

It’s wonderful that we have this trove of information about the business of writing out there. But be careful about when and how you engage with it. It’s easy to mistake reading about the market for actually doing the work. My sense is that most of the time, the better thing to do is probably go read a novel that inspires you, take a walk and think, or sit down and actually write.

There are seasons for getting hip to the business side of this shit, and there are seasons for locking in and creating. Know which season you’re in—and protect it.

Peace,
Andrew