Publishing: The slow route to success

The publishing industry loves a debut, doesn’t it? Every year a select list of debut authors and their books will be everywhere for their few months of spotlight, accompanied by phrases like ‘bought at auction’, ‘pre-empt’ or ‘highly anticipated’.

Hype is an ouroboros thing – a buzzy deal equals bigger marketing campaign, equals greater reach – so these particular stories of success, whilst undoubtedly wonderful, become perceived as the dominant story. Perhaps even the only one. Success begins to look like it only comes in the form of the glittering debut experience. Success begins to look like it depends on the glittering debut experience.

Although not without its own risks, this idea of a big deal, big marketing spend and (hopefully) big sales, is an appealing one to most aspiring authors, and I am genuinely delighted to see authors and books celebrated in this way. But, I don’t think a laser focus on one rare, golden route into publishing is necessarily healthy, and I would love to see more conversations about what sustainable careers look like in publishing, and how many forms they can take.

I am, it is probably fair to say, at the other end of the spectrum from these shining debut stars. I debuted in 2021 with a tiny indie press – Luna Press – published my second book with them in 2022, moved to another independent press – Fairlight Books – for my third in 2023, and am now with a medium sized indie – Solaris Books. I consider myself a bit of a tortoise in the publishing game, steadily reaching new readers with each book, and while I hope to continue building momentum, I am honestly incredibly glad I’ve taken this slow road into publishing.

Entering publishing with a small profile and small market reach meant that I had time and space to learn how to navigate things like interviews, podcasts, live events, and the inevitable negative reviews. I’ve been able to stumble in an interview and it only be read by a dozen people. I’ve held my first events in a small room of mostly friends, rather than a packed hall of expectant strangers. This has been vital for me particularly, dealing with an energy limiting illness, but I think it might be empowering for others too.

In a survey by The Bookseller in 2023 54% of authors said that debuting was harmful to their mental health. That speaks to a few causes, I think, but one must be the difficult transition from solitary writer to public-facing, multi-tasking author. And the brighter your debut star, the harder that transition is because you have so much less space to learn, to rest, to discover what you actually enjoy doing as an author in the public eye.

The attrition rate of authors' careers is high, and I’ve seen figures suggesting that only one in three authors will make it past three books, one in ten will make it past six.

Some of this could be laid at the feet of publishers not supporting mid-career, mid-list authors, or the not unrelated shocking decline in author earnings. But some of it, particularly over those first few books, may also be down to authors simply not having the resilience to withstand the vagaries of publishing. And why would we? We aren’t trained to manage the public-facing parts of our job, and however well our last book sold or however many awards it won, we remain vulnerable to publishing tastes and risk-aversity.

Publishing is an obstacle course slash marathon, and there are many ways to navigate it but you’re perhaps more likely to go the distance if you pace yourself than if you are, say, launched out of a rocket blindfold.

While the shiny debut with their high profile success will always be enticing, it represents a tiny fraction of authors’ experiences so I think we need a broader vision of what makes for a rewarding publishing experience.

By publishing on much smaller scales with my early books, I discovered that joy was to be found in many places – in the blogger who became a cheerleader, the reader email that made me cry, the faith of my editors. Yes, the award listings and bookshop events were joyous too, but because no-one was expecting those for me, they came as a bonus, not an essential measure of the ‘success’ of me or my books.

So as my tortoise reaches its next mile marker, I have hopes for my next few books and ambitions for my career, but I also know publishing a book can be truly rewarding even without the glitter. There’s a safety and a strength in that, I think. We authors are strange birds (to switch up the taxa), full of magpie dreams and fear of falling. But perhaps our dreams will withstand publishing more if we give ourselves space to learn to fly.

We Are All Ghosts In The Forest by Lorraine Wilson is published by Solaris (£18.99)

Indie publishing can be a pathway to literary acclaim – read Lulu Allison's account of being longlisted for The Womens Prize.

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