No One Owes You Success in Publishing
Focus on what you can control.
It is very normal for writers to have gripes about the publishing industry. But over the last year or so, I’ve noticed a trend, especially on Substack and X, of both established and emerging writers expressing their frustration and despair with the business of getting published in a manner that suggests that something owed to them isn’t being given to them.
They feel their work and their genius is being ignored by editors and agents, that the industry as a whole is stacked against them personally, or that other external forces beyond their control are actively preventing them from achieving their dreams.
If you’re a writer (as most of my audience is), you’ve probably seen this, too. Maybe you’ve even experienced some of these feelings yourself. I’m not judging. I have certainly experienced them, and especially earlier in my career, long before I had a novel out, an agent, or even a clear sense of what my writing was truly about.
It’s natural to feel discouraged when faced with rejection—whether from agents, editors, reviews, awards committees, or sales. Those moments sting, and it’s human to want to process that disappointment.
But something I’ve learned is that leaning too deep into those feelings often does more harm than good. That is because holding onto bitterness and scorn doesn’t provide you with the clarity to move on and move closer to your goals.
For example, experiencing the rejection of a handful of agents and concluding, “all agents are terrible no-nothings who won’t represent my work because it’s too incredible and complex,” isn’t going to help you take the feedback you received from your rejection, rework your manuscript, and knock on more doors.
Being summarily rejected by the “Big 5” imprints you submitted to and concluding, “publishing houses are full of dimwits who wouldn’t know what ‘real’ literature is if it smacked them in the face,” won’t help you regroup and find other avenues toward publication–indie presses, micro presses, academic imprints, etc.–or perhaps come to the conclusion that your novel isn’t the right one and it is time to get started on something new.
It feels good to point to a monster holding you in captivity, and wrapping yourself in a blanket of likes and comments from others who feel the same way. But over time, this mindset will only weigh you down, convince you that your obstacles are too big to beat, and may lead you to stop writing altogether.
That would be sad. Which, coincidentally, is how I often feel when I read these public displays of scorn toward the industry, and more so when I see writers beginning to make it their personality.
I feel sad because instead of focusing on what they can control—their work, and how much effort they put into refining it and getting it into the hands of those who might appreciate it—these writers seem to instead place their time and energy focusing on why they aren’t getting what they mistakenly believe is owed to them: acclaim, applause, status.
The truth is, nothing is owed to you. Not in life, and certainly not in a business as fickle as the publishing industry.
I understand that some of the frustrations out there stem from very real challenges—some of which I’ve even written about. Publishing is a tough, competitive, and flawed industry in a tough, competitive, and deeply flawed world. But spending your energy dwelling on whatever particular unfairness you believe you’ve faced won’t change the system or improve your odds.
Writers have always faced obstacles. It’s very easy to romanticize the past, but even the most celebrated authors struggled to get their work out into the world at first—and even those who initially tasted some success struggled to follow it up. (See this recent
post for an excellent example.) Nothing about this business has ever been guaranteed.My own debut novel, which came out last year, exceeded my expectations. It has sold decently well for a first book, received great reviews, and landed on some very nice lists. But does that mean the road will be easy for me the second time around? Not particularly. I still have to deliver the goods. And even if I write something I love and am proud of (which is the plan, of course), it’s not promised that anyone will pay attention or enjoy it (we all know of more than a few sophomore efforts that bombed following solid debuts).
The only thing I can really control in the equation is the effort I put in—and I’ve learned to find peace in that.
So, to my fellow scribes out there hitting roadblocks and facing setbacks: please try to let go of the idea that anyone owes you anything in this business—not agents, not publishers, not reviewers, not readers.
When things don’t go your way, resist the urge to dwell in frustration or lob stones. Focus on regrouping, finding (or creating) new opportunities and avenues, and sticking to the grind.
Since starting this Substack two years ago, I’ve been fortunate to get to know two writers who’ve done just this, and who I admire and applaud for their persistence and ability to roll with punches:
and .Both experienced their fair share of headwinds in getting their debut novels published, but have found their way–Amran’s debut novel Leverage, which I’ve read, blurbed, and loved, will be published in August and Alex recently made the decision to self-publish his debut novel Hell or Hangover, later this year (I’m looking forward to it, and I know a number of us on this platform are, too).
I believe this persistence will ultimately pay dividends for writers like Amran and Alex, and for writers like you, too—even if those dividends look differently than what you initially hoped for.
And even if it doesn’t pan out for you, at the very least you might enjoy the ride a bit more.
That’s worth it, too.
Peace,
Andrew
I think about that Ira Glass quote a lot about the time in your development as an artist when your skill level isn't yet as good as your taste. And I think a lot of querying writers don't realize their book isn't good enough to compete with the others, but it's more of a comfort to say "the system is broken" than to realize, wow I just spent years writing this book and I learned a lot but I may have to get better in order to break in. There are just so many other writers who have the same dream. And we're told not to look at other writers as our "competition" but as our "community." It actually is a competition!
Nice post Andrew, but I think there's another way to look at it. The way it works now, the entire status system for writing is controlled not by writers, not by regular readers, not by people who have the best interests of literature necessarily at heart, but by people who are looking to make a buck by packaging a book as a commodity. There's nothing wrong with that per se but the system emerged out of very different material conditions, where the distribution of content had to pass through the expensive medium of the print shop. Now that that's really no longer the case, the same publishing companies nonetheless still act as though they are the sole credible evaluators of literary merit. All of this is a highly unnatural and antiquated system. It creates chokeblocks in the ability of writers to find their audiences, and those chokeblocks often last for the entirety of people's careers - the vast, vast majority of writers (this is still the case) spend their lives chewing their elbows in frustration, being broke, thinking they're inadequate, and all because some agent didn't answer their email. This is not a good state of affairs and it is no longer really necessary. Writers have every right to be frustrated and angry about it.