Open your Instagram or Facebook and within seconds – if you’re a writer and follow other writers – you will see a success story. A signed contract perhaps, a movie deal, a spot on the best-seller list, an impressive literary award…
Don’t get me wrong – this is what we all aspire to, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a dream of mine – but when you’re struggling… struggling to write, struggling to be seen… and all you see is other people’s success stories, it’s too easy to think you can’t measure up.
I understand why writers don’t share lousy news publicly – perhaps because it’s embarrassing or made us sad and angry, perhaps because we’re constantly being told to sell ourselves, to ‘fake it til we make it’.
In order to balance the reality of what we see in our feeds, I approached a bunch of writers from across the country and asked them to share (anonymously) all the things they felt they couldn’t …
Read on to discover some of the stories other writers aren’t sharing, and be reassured that You. Are. Not. Alone.
In the words of one wise friend: I love writers. The industry less so.
With my first book series, I had declining sales after the first book. When it came to the third, the publisher printed so few that they had to do a reprint when they got more orders than they expected. I was on Instagram saying ‘yay it’s gone to reprint’, but it was only because my publisher had printed so few in the first place.
I found out my publisher was closing from another author.
I thought the writing process was lonely, but my experience of post-publication has been equally so. Three months after my book has been out, I have had ZERO communication from my publisher as to how it’s tracking. Naturally, therefore I assume that it’s sunk like a stone and I’m a failure to the publishing house and myself.
In the lead-up to my book being launched, I devoted myself to promoting it. I lost count of the author talks, media articles, interviews and cultural events and went to every book club that would have me. When I received my first royalty cheque I was stunned. Barely enough to cover a summertime electricity bill. It surprised me how much it hurt.
I bragged on Instagram that my rights had been sold overseas and I would be an internationally published author. I didn’t mention that my advance was around 200 bucks.
When a six-month royalty period passes and I haven’t sold enough books to warrant being paid.
I don’t post that most days I’m working at either one of my two other jobs. That it’s hard to make ends meet and that there is a niggling part of me that, although I love the creativity of writing, can’t reconcile how much investment one has to put in just to earn less than what you might make on the most basic wage.
Book No. 1 was out, Book No. 2 was due for release in a couple of months. I get a phone call from my publisher to tell me Book 1 has sold so badly she had trouble talking them into giving me a contract for Book 3. I then have to go and sit down with my writing group (one of whom has been an international bestseller) and try to write a book it feels like no one wants, hiding my tears.
You feel super ungrateful and ‘first-world problemsy’ if you say anything publicly that’s not positive.
Having to argue with festival organisers about speaking fees. These are sometimes lower than ASA recognised rates and I’ve had organisers (the same ones who say their festival promotes and supports local writers) tell me that they are “exempt” because they are “not for profit”. Once I’ve paid for fuel and accommodation and received their fee, I’m making a loss to attend.
My novel was published digitally with 10 pages missing – of the most crucial scene where the couple finally get together. My publisher fixed it a couple of weeks after release (when I discovered it) but asked me not to make any announcement about it, which meant the first buyers of the ebook probably just thought I was a shocking writer.
A short story of mine was rejected from a number of small local writing comps and then went on to be a finalist in a major national award.
The wall face you get from [publisher]. They ignore some people and faun over others.
I’m still being ghosted by a publisher that revved me up with intensely keen interest, only to never get back in touch once the MS was sent in. Just say no!
When I come home and I am so exhausted, and there is dinner to make and school stuff to think about and this child is arguing with that child… so I don’t post that most days I’m not actually writing. I don’t post that I am scared I might never complete this second book with the idea I adore so much. I don’t post that I’m a little jealous of the writers who inhabit a slightly more privileged class or set of circumstances, that I wonder if I’m hiding behind work as an excuse for not writing, or that I am being mean to myself.
Publishers are busy creatures. One got back to me after 1.5 years!
The art of taking photos from certain angles at your events so it looks like they are full of people!
The stress of having to ask for a fee for my time when people ask me to give talks and assuming I’ll do it for free.
The industry is weirdly secretive and horribly slow and so you never really know if you’re doing relatively well or if tomorrow you will become yesterday’s news…
I have often Insta-bragged about being a bestseller on Amazon. It means nothing. You can get that orange flag in a subcategory when your book sells a couple of dozen copies because there’s a sale on.
I sent a manuscript to my publisher and twelve months later, they still haven’t responded, not even an email to say they’re not interested. This wasn’t a submission to a slush pile. This was a submission to my own publisher.
The European publisher of one of my translated books didn’t bother to check if the blurb had been updated from the publisher’s original pitch. They sent it out into the world with a blurb that didn’t match the book, including a different male lead protagonist’s name.
Publicists all but vanish from one’s email box after the official publicity window abruptly shuts.
I say to myself: “well, you picked up everything you are carrying so you only have yourself to blame”. So I don’t say anything publicly and I don’t know if that’s right or not.
The sheer disappointment of my last royalty cheque.
The mortification of a bookseller complaining about low sales at one of your events.
Even on a good wicket, most writers are at a disadvantage because they still need some serious backing and advocacy from their publishers. Without that, the writers who blow up most often do so not because they’re all over socials, but because they have the deep, unconditional support of their publishers, over and above that of many authors on the same publisher’s list… too many writers feel like they’re not valid because of a flawed system, despite them doing wonderful work.
* * * *
Shannon: every writer who contributed their stories above are still writing. They’re amazing people and amazing writers and they’re not sharing their stories to discourage or complain. It’s just a reality of the life of a writer and we think it’s important to balance what we see.
Some of them are first-time writers, some long-established, and quite a few of the stories come from award-winners – even they are not immune to bad days and fallow periods.
So the next time you’re feeling a little discouraged by what you’re seeing, just remember that there’s plenty you’re not seeing.
Be reassured that You. Are. Not. Alone.
shannonmeyerkort.com 
I saw this on LI but thought I’d reply here (because it’s always nice to reply at the source)! Thanks so much for taking the time to collate all these responses. I think back to when I wanted so badly to be published, and how I felt as if those other writers who had their work in print were so much more successful – somehow just different, better people! I’d had a dream that I would write for a living ever since I was little kid, and I did NOT want to hear about the reality that most writers can’t live off their writing.
I did publish here and there, and I’ll no doubt publish again, but I’m not enamoured with it, in the way that I once was. Part of that is because I need to feed a family, and that reality comes at you pretty hard when you have to beg for payments. And part of it is because I realised that I’m OK with working in the industry, mostly editing but doing some writing, and that I won’t ever live off publishing books, but on the plus side, I can live off doing those things.
I wish I could tell that younger me not to get so hung up on publication and rejection – that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, and that publishers are often selling a dream so you don’t ask the hard questions about how you’re supposed to eat – but she probably wouldn’t listen! These lessons are ones we just have to learn. They’re a whole lot easier to learn when there’s honest talk like this, though. So thank you, again.
Thanks Rebecca, I think you’re 100% right. I think it’s easier to come to those conclusions much faster when there is honest talk about the reality of being an author, that even for multi-published authors, it’s still hard work and they still hear ‘no’ (or worse – silence)…
[Sidenote: Publishers, a rejection letter is ten times better than a gaping void of silence that drifts over the months and years]. Hearing these stories don’t make us stop dreaming, but they do prepare us a bit better for the let down.
Thank you for this. Negatives can have a positive effect but often we don’t hear about the battles to getting published until after the success. Then we/I use spin-doctoring to talk it up, like ‘I had as many rejections as the first Harry Potter book and a bigger first print run’.
I confess to feeling guilty comfort when I read that an award-winning manuscript still hadn’t made it to publication or that a much-lauded emerging author has yet to achieve the anticipated stardom.
Winning a prize raises expectations. I mistakenly assumed that being ‘mentored’ by an editor of a big 5 publisher would automatically lead to my book being published by them. That rejection really hurt and I only found out by asking them specifically. I would have been less annoyed if I had realised the mentoring was just a side project for them (it was a big deal to me).
Fortunately I can take the view of the Australian Tax Office about my earnings as an author: writing is my hobby and being paid for it is a gift!
Thank you for sharing Meryl. I do think hearing the negative does help to adjust our expectations somewhat, and if we have more realistic expectations, then the rejections don’t hurt quite so much.