Buckle up, writers, you’re about to go for a ride.

That’s a picture of Foss Flats Road near North Sandwich, New Hampshire. Talk about your worldbuilding!

I took this picture in October of 2012, so it’s well over a decade old. But it’s still one of my favorite photos, because while encapsulating the simple beauty of fall foliage, it is also packed full of metaphors for life. And as I stare at it, metaphors for writing and writers.

Stories are beautiful. Writing undergoes a constant state of renewal. The road is long. The road is imperfect and potentially very long. There’s a lot of debris along the way. The path is lonely and a little off-center (or is it?). The experience is often done out of the spotlight. The destination is unknown. There is light at the end of the road (or is there?). I could go on, but you get the point.

Being an author is an endless journey.

Unless your goal is to fire off one book and then close your laptop/writing journal forever without worrying if anyone’s reading it and never think about it or another story again, publishing your first tale is just the very beginning of an endless slog. Merriam-Webster gives us three definitions for slog, and they all apply to the author’s path after publishing: a hard dogged march or journey, a prolonged arduous task or effort, and hard persistent work. All are true. But first, a word from our sponsor: the traditional publishing industry.

This is a (brief) aside on the state of the traditional publishing world. In 2022, all the tea was spilt in court when the US Government succeeded with an anti-trust lawsuit to stop Penguin Random House from acquiring Simon & Schuster (a $2.2B acquisition that would have reduced the quantity of bona fide big house traditional publishers to four, down from six in the 2010s and dozens in the 1990s). During the weekslong court hearing, publishing executives revealed how only a third of new books published are profitable, and 20% of those making up 80% of the profit. Almost all of that 20% are established, name brand authors like Stephen King, Lee Child, and Brandon Sanderson. There are a few younger upstarts that have recently driven strong sales like Sarah J. Maas, Colleen Hoover, and Rebecca Yarros, but for every one of those newer authors, there are thousands whose books are picked up by a traditional publisher and never reach any real measure of success. And they never get a second book deal. Plus, for every traditionally published author, there are millions more unpublished writers out there hoping to get a chance.

Publishers are, in the PRH CEO’s words, “angel investors in our authors and their dreams, their stories”. For the uninitiated, angel investor is a venture capital term. Incredibly wealthy people invest a very small amount of money for a large stake in something, because at that moment in time, the perceived value is very low, but has at least some potential to be enormous. Back in 2016, the Harry Potter franchise was worth around $25 billion dollars. Before the Philosopher’s Stone came out (1997), a short, off-the-wall, worldbuilding-heavy middle grade story about an orphan boy being sent to wizard school had almost no perceived value. For something that so greatly impacted pop culture, JK Rowling was paid a measly $2000 advance for the first book. Talk about a return on investment!

The publisher had no idea what they were getting.

Publishers guess as to what will be successful, mostly because they don’t know and have admitted it’s more or less impossible to predict how well a debut author’s book will do. Pretty sure a decade ago, no one would have ever guessed that New Adult fantasy (which includes seriously “spicy” content, as the Internet likes to call it) would become the smash success it is today.

Sadly, because of the dynamics of capitalism, publishers focus on what they know will make them money. Those guaranteed wins get far more organizational attention. Subsequently, publishers have pushed far more of the work they used to do onto the laps of authors. Manuscripts have to be edited and revised to perfection before an agent will even touch them. Authors are expected to have a moderate-to-large social network already established. Advances for no-name authors are miniscule to zero. There are a bunch of little small presses still out there who may accept your manuscript, but the story is the same. They can only invest a little time, a spot on their website, an email to Barnes and Noble, and their name on the spine of your book for a slice of the pie. They may be a “traditional” publisher, but is that worth it considering the effort and strain it takes? What’s your return on investment there? Dubious.

But perhaps most damning of all, the marketing and PR heft of the publishing houses are hyper-focused on the already established authors they know will move books. This leaves the bulk of the marketing work to the author.

Enter the slog.

No one likes an unwelcome slog. Yet I use the term with begrudging acknowledgement here, because for some, that slog is a joy. There are actually people out there who take relish in tackling all this:

• Researching & communicating with bookstores to get books on shelves
• Designing, purchasing, and managing swag like bookmarks and stickers
• Researching & booking author signings
• Designing, purchasing, and managing online ads
• And the biggest time sink in history, social media. All of the above are supported by your social media reach.

For me, I’d rather spend time writing stories than promoting them. I suspect that mindset is common among most writers. But, as a (currently) self-published author, 100% of my success is on my shoulders. To date, I’ve pursued marketing with limited effort and received commensurate success for it. Knowing myself, once I have another book or two published, my interest in marketing will increase. But while all of the slog belongs to self-published authors, those few lucky enough to be picked by a traditional publishing house are increasingly responsible for the vast majority of promoting their book.

Before, when a traditional publisher bought a book, everything was pretty hands-off for the author, apart from the occasional signing appearance or tour and (hopefully) collecting a check. Each book was kind of like a road trip that had a beginning (finish the story), middle (get an agent and revise) and an end (get published). Success was prescribed and defined by a fairly simple path.

Now, that journey never ends. Sure, you will write and publish more books. But the obligations of promotion of the first book through the last will forever be on your shoulders. Regardless of how your book gets published, we’re all in the same marketing boat. And because of the diminishing benefits for new authors to be traditionally published, more and more authors will set their sights on self-publishing straight from the start and skip the query trenches, because the return on time investment there is approaching infinitesimal. Making it increasingly likely that the next Harry Potter won’t be found by the Big 5.

So how does a writer know they’re having a successful writing career?

Embrace the journey of authorship as the goal.

There is no spoon. Writers who hope to nurture a lasting career can’t look at the milestone of becoming an author as a road trip with a destination. Neither self-publishing a book or being traditionally published counts as crossing the finish line. Both are almost identical paths along a side-scrolling, endless adventure full of traps and pitfalls, speed bumps, potholes, and plot holes. And marketing. Lots and lots of marketing. It only stops if you give up or get big enough to be worthy of the almighty marketing dollar of the traditional publisher. It’s the experience we’re after. Hopefully we make a few bucks along the way. Some will even earn a sustainable living.

The point is this: in this modern age of books, being a writer no longer only involves typing out words on the page. It will never be that again. As long as you accept that fact, there’s still some great scenery to enjoy.

Time to hit the (writing) road! M