Beyond Bestsellers: Yes, People Still Buy Books

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Earlier this week, Elle Griffin released this article about the “state of publishing”, analyzing a lot of the data from when Penguin Random House wanted to buy Simon & Schuster that got released into a book called The Trial.

Her conclusion was that no one buys books, which was also the title of the essay. I think the better title would be “the advances publishing companies pay to celebrities are ludacrous 90% of the time”, but I thought it was a well-researched article even if I don’t fully agree with the conclusions. I have been listening to people decry how publishing was dead since high school, so one more is not going to phase me.

I was just going to let it go. I even put it in my roundup for the weekend since there was so much meat there. Then, published this post yesterday about how maybe we should stop bashing the industry we work in and gleefully dancing on its grave, and yeah, I think that’s right.

I was going to go to the trouble of expanding on this point, but then my friend messaged me to ask if she could do it, and I was like “heck yes”. Leslye is one of the smartest, coolest, and most successful trad published authors I’ve met in a long time. I’ve devoured two of her books and frigging loved them. Plus, she’s succeeded at a high level both as an indie and traditionally published author, so she can speak to this better than just about anyone out there.

If you like this one, then I highly recommend her Substack.

The Penguin Random House/DOJ antitrust trial revealed a lot about the traditional publishing industry that was disappointing, bewildering, and downright angering. Revelations from the heads of the Big Five publishers made it clear that far from there being some organized and strategic master plan at play to ensure each and every book they publish finds its maximum audience, it’s more of a throw things at the wall and see what sticks type of situation. 

Seems like a crazy way to run a business, and it is. But the conclusions drawn by some, such as writer Elle Griffin in her incendiary post “No one buys books,” that "Unless you are a celebrity or franchise author, the publishing model won’t provide a whole lot more than a tiny advance and a dozen readers" is just false.

Publishing is hard, but here’s why we do it, anyway.

My Publishing Journey

I chose to begin my writing career as an indie author, eschewing submitting my manuscript to agents or editors because I had plenty of experience with DIY art projects from co-founding a literary magazine to directing independent films. I also was not convinced that a major publisher would be interested in my novels about Black and brown folks with magic. The horror stories I’d heard from authors of color in the industry had stuck with me. There was no reason not to keep control and do it myself.

So I self-published my first novel, Song of Blood & Stone, in January 2015 and followed up that year with three more books in two series. By January 2016, I had sold close to 2,000 copies, received a starred review in Publishers Weekly, and an award for Best Self-published Fiction from the Black Caucus of the American Library Association. 

She had read the first two books I’d published in that epic fantasy romance series, and initially asked me to pitch her a new series. Eventually, just as I was sending book three to my freelance copyeditor, she told me she wanted to re-publish the entire series and believed she could bring it to a larger audience. 

I had been giving indie publishing everything I could. Reading blogs, listening to podcasts, joining online groups, taking part in promos, building my newsletter. I hired the best cover designer I could afford, as well as a development editor, both of whom had come from the traditional publishing world. I was happy with the results I was achieving and looking forward to being able to promote a completed series, which, at the time, seemed to be key in getting real traction.

But I was committed to having Black people on the covers of my books in a time before #WeNeedDiverseBooks, when whitewashed covers were still a thing and “mainstream readers” (i.e. white people) would make statements, in public, on Michelle Obama’s internet, that they didn't feel they could relate to POC characters. 

My books were also in a difficult space for the time, hovering on the line between fantasy and romance. (Romantasy was not yet a term being used and its amazing, runaway popularity had not yet occurred). Many fantasy readers were uninterested in romance, and romance readers didn’t want to commit to an epic fantasy—or so the conventional wisdom held.

I say all this to point out a strong reason why, when the opportunity basically fell into my lap, I decided to give traditional publishing a try. It seemed worth it to see what a Big 5 publisher like Macmillan could do with my books. I had no agent and completed the deal with the aid of a literary attorney who negotiated a mid-five figure deal for four books. I was delighted.

In the past six years, my first novel has sold close to 20,000 copies and earned out its advance. The other three in the series have not. My last traditionally published novel, a standalone, has also sold close to 20,000 copies in just over a year, and I have hopes that it will earn out in the next year or two.

All of this puts me firmly in the midlist. Most people have never heard of me or my books. I am not a New York Times bestseller. At best, I’ve hit #1 in some Amazon categories, usually during a sale. I’m not a full-time author. And you know where else that puts me? Firmly with the majority of published authors.

Why Are You Writing In the First Place?

This industry is very difficult, no matter how you publish. I am still a hybrid author, publishing both indie and traditional, so I can say this from years of experience and with feet in both worlds—if you do not love writing, if you could do something else and be happy, go do that thing. 

I don’t think I’ve met a single author who is entirely satisfied with their advance, or their publisher’s marketing support and promotion activities.

We always think they could do more, and in reality, they could. But publishing companies are made up of hardworking people, often underpaid and working incredibly long hours because they, like us, love books. And they, like us, understand the value of the stories we tell and the lives we touch. 

My books feature mostly Black protagonists going on adventures, falling in love, being badasses, and making their worlds and communities better. I want to tell the stories of people who look like me and, using that specificity, reach as many people as possible. Create empathy for as many people as possible. This is why I write.

So just like with everything else in life, your path to your version of success depends on your goals. If you want to write and reach readers, there are many ways to do that. You can try or experiment with different ones to reach your aims.

Manage Your Expectations

So while it’s true that publishers make the vast majority of their money on celebrities and superstars, and that the bulk of the high six-figure and seven-figure advances go to people with huge platforms whose earnings will buoy the rest of us, the midlist is full of writers with small to medium-sized followings, working hard and building careers and following their dreams.

Authors will always want more, feel we deserve more: more readers, more money, more promotion. Personally, I use that as an engine to keep me motivated.

It’s easy for writers to get beaten down by the shifting sands beneath our feet. Editors moving on and leaving us orphaned, agents not returning our emails, a global pandemic cannibalizing book sales, events where no one shows up, paper shortages, contracts canceled, social media algorithms hiding our posts. The list goes on and on. 

Publishing is flawed. It may even be broken. Their business model sucks. Their reliance on famous names or TikTok stars to become breakout hits every five years or so seems insane. But the books on the shelves behind me in my office are the timeline of my life. The readers I meet at events or online, nullify the notion that this is all for naught.

Why It’s Still Worth It

Stories touch our lives, make us feel seen, help us develop empathy, allow us to escape the horrors of the world and live with our characters for a time. They make the world better and make us better. 

Giving to others what books have given me feels like walking in my purpose. Getting my stories out into the world however I can: in indie bookstores, at Barnes & Noble, on Amazon and Apple Books and Kobo, on my website’s store—this is how I live my purpose. 

Last year, traditional publishing, including rights sales, made up about half of my income. But I realize that’s not guaranteed. I’ve been self-employed for nearly two decades as a freelance web developer, and am very familiar with only eating what I kill. That’s just the nature of the beast. For now, I earn enough with traditional publishing to help me pay my bills. Plus, it allows me to walk into a bookstore and see my book on the shelves, affording me access to a vast number of potential readers I could not reach otherwise.

There is also a sense of validation and prestige of having been “chosen” that is difficult to talk about, but can’t be ignored. The validation doesn’t cancel out the imposter syndrome which still creeps in, but it can be a helpful measuring stick to reinforce that my confidence in my abilities isn’t delusional.

Publishing has given me the opportunity to attend and present at events, and have access to professionals who I don’t have to pay, who in fact pay me. It saves me from some of the work involved in self-publishing, which can be exhausting. And in fact frees me up to do that exhausting work with the indie books I do put out. 

It also allows me to publish novels that I would have a hard time finding an audience for if they were indie. I’ve sold television and film rights which would have been incredibly difficult to do otherwise. 

Forge Your Own Path

What I hope you take away from my example is that we can acknowledge the flaws and faults in the industry without negating the unique value it provides. We can advocate for change—more diversity in the professionals making up the industry, more diversity in the characters and stories put out, trusting that marginalized audiences do read if you give us authentic stories that we connect with—without burning down something that has no equivalent replacement. 

Publishing, like the country, like the world, has a long history of exclusion, gross inequality, and wrongdoing that is still occurring today. The expansion of options: indie publishing, serializing, selling direct, crowdfunding, and more are all exciting developments that provide more possibilities to reach readers on your own terms. 

Plenty of people are still reading. Millions of people are buying books. Moreover, there is someone out there who needs your story. Someone for whom your story will patch up a particular hole in their soul. Finding them won’t be easy, and you have more choices than ever in how you get it to them.

Publishing is hard no matter which path you choose, but there are still many good reasons that so many of us do it anyway.

I made a career for many years being the thorn in the side of the comics publishing industry. While there were some good publishers, comics has always been flooded with crappy ones who don’t offer enough to justify their existence.

Usually, they require that you fully fund and complete you book before they sign you. Then, after you take all the risk, they ask for 50% of the IP and tell you they will recover their money before you see a dime. It’s a racket, but there are good publishers out there if you look. I just didn’t really find them.

That said, I’ve never been happy about the publishing industry burning to the ground. I’ve never wanted traditional publishing to disappear. I just want them to live up to the ideal they publicly espouse. I want them to treat authors as partners instead of disposable and replaceable cogs. I want a better industry, and that’s what we should all be working toward…because that is the industry we work for and love.

I’m also just not sure it’s true that it’s burning down. No, there’s not a lot of money in books but there never was, really, except for a few authors. Yet, we still all want to be authors.

Most people think the choice is whether you’ll self-publish or traditionally publish, but that’s a false equivalence. Really, the choice for most of us is whether we will self-publish or not get published at all. I love that indie publishing gives those of us who don’t have that option to get their work out into the work.

I love that it gives traditionally published authors more options to get their work into people’s hands and build more robust income streams, but that doesn’t mean traditional publishing should burn to the ground, or we should be happy if it does.

I’ve been blackballed by a lot of publishers for taking adverse opinions to their policies, and that’s fine, but if you have any desire to be published by a publisher, maybe don’t take such pleasure in their (overstated) destruction.

Use it as a way to illuminate yourself to the truths and make better decisions for yourself, whether that is to pursue traditional publishing or go off on your own and self-publish.

I’m also going to throw a lot of these complaints back at the authors, who often expect the publishers to do everything and end up doing little more than a couple of tweets and maybe a book signing. Publishing is a hustle, and authors who hustle do tend to succeed.

Plus, publishers appreciate the hustle. They will almost always work with you if you take the initiative. I’ve seen publishers send authors hundreds of free books for signings and conventions. I’ve never seen one who didn’t want every book they publish to succeed. Unfortunately, the Power Law Curve is brutal.

No one buys books is a flashy title that confirms what a lot of people think they already know about publishing, especially ones who have been rejected from publishers and have a lot of bitterness toward them, but many people do buy books.

Book publishing was a $44.3bn industry in 2023. According to Statista, over 767 million copies of print books were sold in the US last year. That’s down from 788 million units in 2022, and nowhere near as big as the movie industry, but it’s also not nothing. According to , over a billion books are sold every year.

There are some legitimate flaws in the publishing industry that Elle’s article points out, but that’s a far cry from nobody buys books. It is a catchy headline, though. So catchy I almost want to believe it.

What do you think?

• Is the book industry dead?

• Should we be excitedly dancing on the grave of the same industry we want to work in?

• Are you pursuing indie publishing along with or instead of traditional publishing? Why or why not? Leave a comment

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