The sin of originality
Maybe you don’t want to focus on formula. Maybe you’d rather try to break through by writing original stories. That’s still possible – if you can catch someone’s eye. Someone who isn’t looking for the same-old, same-old, and who has the connections it takes to put your books in front of readers. (Oprah Winfrey’s book club is an example.)
I don’t know whether it’s more difficult to do that, or whether it’s more difficult to write formulaic novels and hope they somehow find an audience in the sea of other formulaic novels out there.
There is a third option: Write an original story and tie it up nice and pretty in a familiar looking package. But you’ll face the same challenges here, too, plus another potential obstacle: Readers looking for originality might never give your book a second glance, and those looking for pure formula might feel tricked and protest, “What the hell is THIS!?”
None of these options is bad. I prefer to write original stories, but I’ve also seen all the Star Wars movies and most of the Marvel flicks. I’ve also tried to package original stories within the framework of a subgenre.
The point is, whatever option you choose, the odds are never in your favor. Or, at least, not very often. And that can lead to desperation...
...which attracts con artists like a dying animal draws vultures to the side of the road. You hire a marketing guru. You pour money into Amazon and Facebook ads. You buy into “sure-fire” systems for increasing profits, but the only “sure-fire” profits wind up going to the self-proclaimed experts selling those systems.
Catch-22
In one sense, authors face the same Catch-22 (that started out as a book title, by the way) anyone faces when getting started in a business. There’s an old saying that you have to have experience to get a job, but you have to have a job to gain experience.
The writing world is similar: You have to have exposure to sell books, but you have to sell books to gain exposure (unless you want to give them away, which kind of defeats the purpose).
The difference lies in how hard it is to break into this specific field. At the start of 2020, the overall unemployment rate was 3.5 percent. Now, a lot of people had to work two or more jobs to make ends meet, but that still leaves them in better shape than the typical author. According to the Authors Guild, that was $6,080 in 2017, or less than half the poverty level for a single person living alone.
To put it another way: If you worked half-time (20 hours a week) at $10 an hour, you’d still make one-third more than the median author’s salary.
And while other industries are seeing a slow but steady climb in wages, author earnings actually fell by 42 percent from 2009 to 2016.
Snowball effect
In this kind of environment, success stories from big-name authors are less than comforting. A successful author telling a struggling writer, “If I did it, you can too,” might as well be a lottery winner conveying the same message.
Unlike a winning lottery ticket, however, there’s often a snowball effect with writing a bestseller or two. Big-name authors who have been around any length of time have made the vast majority of their money off their reputations, not their talents – which is not to disparage their talents. It’s simply proof of my original premise: Familiarity is a goldmine. It may breed contempt in some quarters, but obscurity breeds indifference, which is far worse if you’re trying to sell books.
I like to write stories with happy endings, but I haven’t found one here. Not yet. I guess if I want that, I’ll have to go see another Disney movie.
On second thought, maybe I’ll see an indie film instead. If I can find one playing within 200 miles of where I live, that is.
Yes, the struggle is real.