I’ve been on vacation the last few weeks, and like any self-respecting vacationer, I brought more books than I got around to. But I did read Laura B. McGrath’s new book Middlemen: Literary Agents and the Making of American Fiction. If you are at all interested in literary agents—querying them, signing with them, secretly resenting them—I recommend getting a copy. McGrath is scrupulous in her research, which is all the more impressive given how murky and evasive agents tend to be about their work. (“It depends!” is their catchphrase.)
McGrath has an entire chapter on “The Debut,” which includes the following statistic: 60% of debut novelists never publish a second book.
There might be some fiction writers out there who only wish to publish one book. But I’m guessing that most of us want to have a long and fruitful career of many novels, many prizes, many genre pivots, many book tours, and many interviews about the breadth of our literary legacy. We think of the debut as a launchpad, not a dead end.
In practice, it can be either. So for today’s post, I want to talk through the debut phenomenon: why debuts are easier to sell than second or third novels; what happens to the splashy debuts that sell for six figures; why so many debuts turn out to be one-hit wonders; and what authors can do to avoid becoming part of that 60%.
I’m calling in the cavalry on this one in the form of Karin Gillespie, who analyzes trends in all the deals reported to Publishers Marketplace—the kind of painstaking and revelatory work that I’m glad I don’t have to do myself. Karin was kind enough to contribute her insights to this post, and her answers are below (marked KG) along with my own.
KG: A debut is the first novel that an author writes—but, according to industry standards, it is also the first adult effort from a children’s author, the first novel written by a non-fiction author, and the first traditionally published novel from a self-published author.
DH: In other words, a novel is a “debut” if the publisher can reasonably defend it as the author’s first effort in the adult fiction market. Debut has a positive connotation, and marketing teams like to splash the word around even when it’s barely warranted. If a writer has published eighteen well-received nonfiction books, is their first novel really their debut? Officially, yes.
KG: There’s an average of 35 debuts sold monthly, and they usually account for a third or even more of all fiction deals. Overwhelmingly, the debut deals go to young females under 40. (Basically, the BookTok audience.) I usually see only two or three male deals each month. Non-white authors are also not well-represented.
DH: You can tell a lot about the industry’s current trends and taste from the debut deals. There are plenty of reasons for a second or third or fifteenth novel to get picked up, even if its subject matter doesn’t fit the zeitgeist: maybe the author is a household name, or maybe their last novel sold a ton of copies, or maybe this new book is under option. But debut deals reveal what editors want now—and as such, debut novels (when they succeed) can set new trends and have a ripple effect on acquisitions.
KG: Debuts are all about possibility, and everyone’s hoping for the next Bonnie Garmus or Delia Owens. Media tends to be more interested in debut authors, particularly if there’s a compelling narrative surrounding the author. For instance, when Garmus published her debut novel Lessons in Chemistry at age 65, the literary community celebrated her late-life success.
There’s also a certain thrill to discovering a new voice. Who wouldn’t want to be the agent who fished the next Pulitzer Prize–winning author out of the slush?
Western culture also loves the idea of talent springing into the world fully formed. That’s more fairy tale than reality—most accomplished debut novelists have several unpublished trunk novels—but the notion of a preternaturally gifted novelist is romantic.
Finally, debut novelists lack checkered sales records. Bookstores review an author’s sales record, and if the author’s debut didn’t perform well, the bookstore will order fewer copies of the next book. It’s difficult to recover from unfavorable track.
DH: One of the agents that McGrath interviews in Middlemen gives the following hypothetical scenario, which I found really telling.
Author A has the following sales track:
Book 1: 20,000 copies
Book 2: 20,000 copies
Book 3: 20,000 copies
And Author B has the following sales track:
Book 1: 5,000 copies
Book 2: 15,000 copies
Book 3: 25,000 copies
Author A has sold more books than Author B—60k vs 45k. But agents and editors will get way more excited about Author B, because Author B is on an upward trajectory. Who cares if Author A has 20k loyal fans who will always show up and buy her books? Author B might have limitless fans. The next book could sell, who knows, 100k copies! More!
Understanding this mindset is the key to understanding the feeding frenzy around debuts. A debut novel has limitless potential. This could be the next big thing! Who knows! There’s no way to tell! Debuts are in that sense more like lottery tickets than sound investments. Publishers will shell out for a debut novel because it might go supersonic—there’s no proof to the contrary. And those same publishers will reject a novelist whose last book sold 15k copies, because that 15k anchors their expectations.
Another factor that contributes to the debut phenomenon: if you’re an editor at a publishing house, covering your ass is more important than turning a profit.
Let’s say you’re deciding between two books that came in on submission: one by Author C, and one by Author D.
Author C has published three novels, with an uneven sales track. Her debut did well, but the last two books haven’t sold many copies. This new book is her fourth novel, and it is phenomenally good. Inhaled it, couldn’t put it down, canceled dinner plans to read it, etc.
Author D’s novel is a debut. She has no platform to speak of, no credentials save a few small-journal publications. Her debut novel is decent.
If you, the editor, decide to acquire Author C’s novel, and then it doesn’t sell very well, everyone will blame you. What were you thinking, acquiring a novel with a poor sales track? Obviously it was never going to take off. You’ve lost social capital with your coworkers, and you’re going to have a harder time pushing through your next acquisition.
If you, the editor, instead decide to acquire Author D’s novel, and then it sells very few copies, everyone will be flabbergasted. What? But it seemed so promising! It was a debut! Who could have seen that coming? No one will blame you, because after all, you had no way of knowing that the book would flop. Oh well—onto the next!
I saw this dynamic in play when I worked in the industry, and it drove me more than a little crazy. Publishers would repeatedly overspend on debuts, and then turn down high-quality third or fourth novels, because they preferred the fantasy of overnight success to the reality of slow career growth and investment in authors.
KG: The first milestone is the Publishers Marketplace announcement. Make sure the deal announcement is catchy. Seriously. It’s where the buzz starts, and scouts (film and international rights) peruse those deals.
Once the contract is ironed out (can take up to six months), you’ll get part of your advance and another part when the manuscript’s been delivered and accepted by the editor.
As for revisions, sometimes there are several rounds, and sometimes none. You’ll go through copy edits and proofreading. At some point, you’ll be sent cover mockups. This process can take anywhere from a year to two years.
Six figures is a healthy advance, but it doesn’t guarantee publisher support. If early trade reviews or reader responses are lackluster, enthusiasm wanes. Sometimes an author’s editor changes jobs, and the author is left without a champion in the house.
Your job as the author is to show that you want to be a full-fledged partner in making your book a success. You’ll be sent an author questionnaire, the purpose of which is to discern what kinds of contacts you can bring to the table. Really dig deep to unearth as many contacts as you can. If you can coax a famous author to blurb your book, that’s also helpful.
I know authors who have hired outside publicists or devised detailed marketing plans. Others have made a point of meeting their team in person. Ask for a call with the publicity director and come prepared with ideas on how you can augment their efforts. Maybe you can organize your own small tour. When you make an effort, the publisher often matches it. Be as grateful and courteous as possible with the publicity team; they are integral to your book’s success. Never complain. These individuals are seriously overworked.
DH: There’s always a domino effect to publicity efforts. If the publisher starts to feel, “Hey, this is going really well!”, they’ll put even more work in. If the publisher starts to feel, “Hmm, this isn’t going as well as we hoped,” they’ll pull back and shift their focus to other books. Everyone wants to be part of the success story, and no one wants to be part of the failed launch.
As a result, in the lead-up to publication, publicity trends toward two extremes. Either things get louder and louder, or they get quieter and quieter.
If you’re the author, and you sense the tide is turning in the wrong direction, you’re going to have to become your own publicity team. Generate good news. Get some extra blurbs. Pitch and publish essays. Convince some podcast host to give you an interview. The more successes you can line up, the more attention you’ll get from your publicity team. The same publicist who ghosted you for three months will suddenly pop up in your inbox, cheerful and optimistic.
The higher your advance, the closer an eye you’ll need to keep on the “tide” of optimism at your publishing house. Many decisions in the publishing industry are rooted in emotion, rather than in financial calculation. A publisher that was excited to spend six figures on you can turn embarrassed and resentful if they begin to suspect that they made a huge mistake.
KG: The debut is a special time. You’ll be talking a lot more about your process and journey to publication. Friends and family are more likely to buy your book even if it’s not their cuppa. There’s more emphasis on who the author is as a person and what their sensibilities are as a writer.
If the debut doesn’t do well, efforts surrounding the sophomore novel are usually almost non-existent unless the publisher somehow feels the author isn’t to blame. (Like if their pub date was March of 2020.) But publishers usually blame lack of sales on the author, even though that’s not particularly fair.
DH: It’s also my sense that publishers are a little more creative with debuts than with later novels. They’re willing to think outside the box on marketing, publicity, and branding for a debut. With an author’s later books, there’s a precedent in place, and publishers are liable to say: “Let’s draw from the same list of contacts we used last time. Let’s target the same demographic that bought the first book.” This can be tricky if you’re switching genres, so hopefully you’ve written a debut in a style that you’re willing to stick with for a few more books.
KG: Be everywhere. People love a Cinderella story. Hit up every media source in your town. Show your excitement on social media. Have a launch party to celebrate this impressive achievement in your life. Hook up with other debut authors. Find out who else is debuting during your year and reach out. You will need each other.
Also, take the time before publication to learn the ins-and-outs of publishing. Substack has a wealth of experts. Devon is one of those experts, but others I trust are Publishing Confidential, Dear Head of Mine, Literary Agent Danielle Bukowski’s Just Reading All Day, and Carly Watters’s The Weekend Rant.
DH: I second those recommendations, and of course I’m a huge fan of Karin’s Pitch Your Novel—Karin gathers everything you need to stay up to date on publishing news, including links to the current discourse and insights into emerging trends.
I’d also advise you to think of yourself as a debutante. This is your formal introduction to literary society. How do you want people to feel about you? What impression do you want to give off? Now is a good time to put a lot of thought into your website, your social media presence, your portfolio of short-form publications. First impressions are sticky, and a clunky website or an off-putting author photo could turn readers against you before your book has even come out.
KG: I wished I’d enjoyed it more and didn’t obsess over numbers so much. Also, I wished I’d asked more questions along the way. Debut authors can be timid when it comes to approaching editors and agents. Your agent, in particular, can be a wealth of information. Ask her what she has seen other authors do to increase their sales. Don’t just offer lip service. Demonstrate your commitment to that goal, and keep your editor and agent apprised of your efforts.
I’d advise debut authors to do a little something towards building their platform daily. If you have two years before your pub date, I’d use that time to become more visible. Maybe you’ll write essays or up your game on Instagram. But most importantly, it’s never too early to start a newsletter. You can collect a lot of emails in the time before your publication date. Also, encourage pre-orders, even if you need to offer an incentive. Healthy pre-order numbers signal to your publisher that you’re serious about your sales.
Bottom line: Sixty percent of debut authors never publish another book, and only a small percentage earn back their advance. I don’t say this to scare anyone. Instead, I hope to motivate writers to beat the odds. You’re already a winner, having defied the odds to get published, but your work is far from over.
DH: My debut novel is coming out this fall, and there are already things I wish I’d done differently! My main takeaway is this: You are going to be bound to, defined by, and judged off your debut novel for years to come. You have to really love and take pride in this novel. Yes, you want to get past the gatekeepers, you want to get published, you want it to happen now. But if you hurry to write a novel that everyone else will like, instead of one that you yourself will like, you’re going to have a hell of a time promoting it, getting interviewed about it, sending it to writers you admire, hawking it at festivals, telling random acquaintances what it’s about, and hearing readers react to it.
When everyone told me not to rush my debut novel, I was like, Screw you, I want to get published. Now I have this book coming out, and I’m proud of it—but it doesn’t feel like the absolute definitive representation of What I’m Capable Of As a Writer. It feels more like Something Cool That I Wrote. I wish I’d realized sooner that my debut would stand in for me so comprehensively. Now that I know, I’ve become excessively preoccupied with Book 2, as if that’s the one that will define me. Don’t judge me by Book 1, guys—hold out for my magnum opus!
EDIT: After this post went up, we received an excellent question from commenter Adrianna. Karin and I agreed that it should be included in the post—here’s Adrianna’s question, and my answer!
DH: The simplest solution would be for the industry to chill out on its debut fervor and realize that later books are often a more solid investment. But we can’t change the industry overnight, so here’s what authors can do:
Don’t give up on your published books, even if your publishing teams have moved on. Readers don’t care if a book came out 3 or 5 or 10 years ago as long as it’s good. All the outreach that writers do around publication (pitching essays, reaching out to podcasts, organizing events) can still happen with a book that’s been in the world a few years. Your “sales track” isn’t fixed, as long as the books are still in print.
(And a note about sales track: the numbers are relative. If you published with a tiny press and managed to sell 2k copies, publishers are likely to be impressed. “Just think what that author could do with a bigger publisher behind her!” they’ll think. If you published with a major imprint and/or received a huge advance and sold 2k copies, publishers will be more wary. So the numbers here aren’t consistent—what matters is how many books you were expected to sell vs. how many you actually sold.)
Target the right people in your submission. There are plenty of agents and publishers out there who want to be the one who re-launches an author’s career. Some even specialize in it. Look up authors who suddenly shot to prominence with their later books (Gabrielle Zevin and Percival Everett are two obvious examples), and find out who represented and published those authors.
Above, Karin and I talk about the advantages debut authors have over mid-career authors. But mid-career authors have advantages too. You have (hopefully positive!) reviews of your published books, blurbs, reader reactions, links to press that came out at the time. Gather all the helpful data you can about your published books, and use it in your new submissions. You’re a known quantity; you’ve proven yourself in the literary world; you have existing fans. That can be a real selling point, even if your sales numbers are less than phenomenal.
Finally, and most importantly: write a fantastic new book. A real slam dunk of a book—high-concept premise, great writing, perfect pacing—will easily compensate for a poor sales track.
If you’re interested in the topic of the debut, Karin has a fantastic post on the curse of the mega advance, for which she’s generously taken down the paywall:
And Kathleen Schmidt just published this great essay by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé on the industry’s obsession with the youthful prodigy:
I’d love to hear your feelings on the debut phenomenon, whether you’re a new author or several books deep. And if you have questions that Karin and I can answer, please ask them in the comments!
Thanks for reading—I’ll be back next week talking about the craft of dialogue!
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