The Day I Decided to Quit Book Publishing

And the sobriety of the morning after

On Wednesday, March 20th, at 12pm EST, I’ll be hosting a live Zoom conversation with Lucy Austen about her biography, Elisabeth Elliot: A Life. Paid subscribers are welcome to join live, and they will also receive a link to the recording. I hope you’ll participate!

---

There are a handful of spots left in my Rule of Life (for Writers) workshop on April 10, 2024, 6-9 pm in Grand Rapids. Registration information here.

---

I said in my February month-in-review letter that I was ready to quit all things writing in the middle of a terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-sore-throat day. Honestly, friends, I don’t know what will happen if I face real illness because this was a mild fever and a little bit of post-nasal drip. Like so many of us, I take physical health for granted, and I’m truly sorry for it, knowing how many people suffer from chronic pain and disease. (Lord, forgive both my lack of gratitude and fortitude.)

After the terrible day had passed and the fever had broken, I was left to ask: Why did I suddenly fall into despair about my prospects for future book publishing?

To be clear, the despair was not about the writing. No, writing I love. Writing I’m committed to. Writing is the way I keep making sense of the confusions and complications of life, as Madeleine L’Engle has written about in Walking on Water. Writing is the way I resist my own despair and keep at this habit called faith. I don’t think I can live without writing, given how intertwined they have become for me. It’s when I get words on a page that I feel I can examine my life, interrogate it to some degree. I write in the vein of the Psalmist, who speaks to his soul and tells himself not to be discouraged. Put your hope in the LORD! the Psalmist says, and I think that’s the drumbeat of my morning journal pages, as I write and reflect on the Scripture I’m reading for the day. Why are you so discouraged? Don’t be so sad!

No, I can’t imagine giving up on the writing. But the publishing? Ah, that’s another story.

The good news is that I am not currently writing or promoting a book. There’s an analytical distance I’m enjoying, to look at the work of publishing and to wonder about it. Not to judge or to blame or to criticize (or at least, not entirely)—but to get curious. Lore Wilbert got me wondering a lot recently when she explored on Instagram the two phases of writing: the private phase, when you burrow into a topic and bleed your soul onto a page, and then the public phase, when you blabber to anyone who will listen about the new book you have coming out and will you please buy it? Writers generally love the first phase, generally hate the second. Who wants to hawk their wares to friends and family, especially friends and family who imagine you’re getting filthy rich by the royalty checks that are piling up as cold hard cash at your house?

I’ll be honest. I’ve earned out three of my five advances, mostly because they were pitifully small, and last year’s royalty check would have bought me a round-trip plane ticket to see one of my college kids in Canada and a nice dinner out with them. I am living the high life off these book sales (and grateful to Ryan for his hard work for our family).

I realize these musings are mostly irrelevant to you, as you are reading books, not writing them. But here’s the thing that’s got me a little discouraged in this particular moment, and these musings are in fact relevant to you as readers. Because you’re in the driver’s seat. It’s up to you to read good books and to share those good books with people you love. If you don’t keep reading good books, they won’t get written. And if you don’t share recommendations of those good books with your family and friends, the author is left to do the work herself. And trust me, she generally doesn’t like it.

There are fewer and fewer ways to publicize a book that don’t look self-promotional. What’s more, publishers are constantly evaluating book proposals, not on the content of the book alone, but on the platform of the author. Can this person write? Yes, it’s one question. But I’d argue it’s not even the most important one in the publishing calculus. Can this person sell? Now we’re talking.

And what do we know about what sells? Well, here’s a quote from a Vox article that struck me as a particularly sober analysis of the kind of writing (and music) that sells: “formulaic, churned-out work is what often sells best.” And as for the platform building? “Cheap trend-following” that keeps up with the algorithms. What this adds up to is less of the substantive, creative work many of us hope to do—and more of the cheap-tricks marketing that makes us grimace.

To boot, it’s not just enough today to write a book and offer it to readers as a carpenter might offer a well-crafted bookshelf, a plumber a repaired toilet, an insurance agent a policy for your two (expensive) 16-year-old drivers. No, you must practically beg people to buy your book. You have to sweeten the deal with BOGO offers and an outsized giveaway like the one Jennie Allen offered for the recent release of Untangle Your Emotions: a 4-night stay in a beautiful Florida condo (sleeps 8), flight points, two carry-on suitcases, a few favorite things for your trip. “All of it worth more than $5k!”

Is this the state of things, that we will only read a book if we can win prizes? You can sense the slipperiness of that slope I fell on last week, when a fever had me a little depressed.

Generally, I don’t think it’s all that helpful for writers to complain about book publishing. But as Lore Wilbert has recently drawn back the curtain on some of these challenges, both on her Instagram and in her Substack, it’s reminded me that if readers don’t understand the challenges, they don’t know the part they can play in changing the equation for certain writers. (Don’t get me started about the distinct challenges facing many women writers, who—like me—have opted for this work for its family-friendly benefits, only to realize that freelance work has none of the institutional benefits many male writers enjoy . . . That is a discussion for another day.)

So, what can you—dear reader—do to promote “sustainable” writing—writing by humans that is creative and formative and substantive? Here are some thoughts, and if any authors are reading, I hope they will feel free to add more.

1.     Buy books. Now I realize that budgets are limited, and wisdom must be exercised. I’m buying fewer books these days. But as you can, invest in good books. At the very least, look at your book budget relative to your entertainment budget—and work toward a little more parity.

2.     Review the books you read and enjoy. You don’t have to say much in any review you write. Simply say: “I’m glad I read this book, and I’ll recommend it to friends.” So simple—and so important for authors.

3.     Pre-order your favorite author’s next book. In the publishing industry, preorders are gold. Don’t wait for a better deal. Tell yourself, “This person has been giving me all kinds of free, helpful content. $25 is the least I might pay to show my gratitude.” I haven’t read Lore’s next book yet, but the endorsements are glowing! I hope you’ll consider pre-ordering it!

4.     Help your favorite author build their platform. Read what they write, share it, tell your friends, shout it from the mountaintops. The more you say, the less they’ll have to.

And so that’s it, friends: Be a good literary citizen. I’ll keep writing here because I think it’s part of the work God has called me to do. Just like God made Eric Liddell fast (and he ran), God gave me lots of words. And because Ryan has only so much time and emotional capacity—I’ll continue to write.