A writing career isn't glamorous

Showing up and putting in the work for a job that has long been romanticized

A recent event I did where NO ONE showed up.

Humans love stories about people succeeding, especially after hard work. We seem to love this most of all when it comes to individualistic endeavors.

In almost any sports movie, there’s some sort of training time-lapse, the team/athlete sweating and putting in the hours, then emerging better-stronger-faster and ready to win. And for stories about artists, the time-lapse features an individual in their studio or at their desk, toiling away, crumpled papers piling up in their waste basket, food and hygiene forgotten—but it doesn’t matter, because they finish the thing. They’ve created Art. (As if the creation alone ends the struggle.¹)

Usually, after this growing/toiling/putting-in-the-hours scene, the artist/athlete goes on to succeed in big ways. Their hard work pays off. Many times, the movie/show ends on this high note.

In real life, however, that hard work time-lapse scene makes up 90% of an individual’s efforts. This is definitely true for authors/writers. We toil away in solitude. There is no one there to witness the struggle, the hours, the work. And even when the work is done, there often isn’t much fanfare. It’s back to work, business as usual, on to the next thing…

I recently did an event at a local indie bookstore, and no one showed up. This isn’t all that uncommon. Many, many authors have experienced audiences of zero.² In some ways, it’s a rite of passage. This was not my first time doing an event with poor turnout, and it’s unlikely to be my last.

But worse still, at this particular event, the store didn’t even have my books beyond the two copies already on their shelves. Apparently my titles were backordered. (And hey, uncontrollable things happens! I still would have appreciated an email update so that I could have rescheduled, but that’s a discussion for another day.) Unfortunately, the lack of books made this event even more painful for me because there wasn’t even stock to sign. It was hard to say, Okay, well no one came to my event, but at least people browsing books in the coming weeks might discover all my titles on shelves and impulse-buy a signed copy.

Instead, I found myself forcing a smile, thanking the staff for having me³, and trying to not let my disappointment and embarrassment show on my face.

Please know that I’m not sharing this because I want pity. I promise that’s not the case. I’m sharing this experience because poor attendance at author events is a common occurrence. Things not going as planned is a common occurrence.

While I’d love to have engaged, animated crowds at all my events, that’s just not realistic. Huge sell-out events happens for the top 1% of authors. For the vast majority of us, things routinely look very un-glamorous. Most authors I know consider 10 people a decent if not good turnout. Especially these days. Attendance is down for all authors, everywhere. Yes, even the big ones. Filling chairs is simply hard.

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People say authors need thick skin. Most often this statement is made in regards to critique and editorial feedback. And sure, I agree. But I actually think you need thick skin because the entire industry is brutal, not just the writing itself.

The act of showing up to promote your books and learning that no one has come can make you feel naked, ridiculous, and small. It’s demoralizing.

But you smile anyway. You explain why you are sitting in an empty space to the two or three people that wander through and ask you what’s going on. You leave that unsuccessful event and hope that next time things will go better. You keep promoting yourself because no one is going to do it for you.

And hey, the same it true for all aspects of this job. If a book flops and has lackluster sales, if reviews/reception is poor, if a manuscript doesn’t sell, if preorders are low, if you aren’t invited to this festival or that con… If, if, if. No matter what, you keep at it because no one is going to fight harder for you than yourself.

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The picture I’ve been painting here is far from glamorous, so why do so many people hope to be an author? Why is this very un-glamorous job considered by many to be a dream career?

I like to think that part of the reason is because we all have stories inside us. It is human nature to tell stories. We’ve been doing it for forever. But I think some of the appeal is because this career does look glamorous from the outside. A work-from-home job with flexible hours and you’re paid to make up stories? Yes, please!

And on top of that, when we glance around social media and check in on our favorite authors online, all we see are the glamorous moments—the good news, the packed event, the special edition, the literary award, the movie option, the starred review, the bestseller status… the highlights.

But the truth is that the glamorous parts of being an author make up about 10% of the overall experience. (Honestly, that number might be closer to 1-2%.)

For big and small authors alike, this career comes with lots of ugly moments. Lots of disappointments. Lots of rejection and ‘nos’ and feelings that you’re not good enough. It’s easy to want to hide these moments, but I think talking about them can be beneficial. We are not alone.

When I shared the above photo of my empty event the other week, I received close to a hundred DMs from authors expressing their gratitude.

“Thanks for sharing this.”

“This happened to me too.”

“I appreciate your transparency.”

Some people even implied that I was brave to share what I did. I don’t consider it brave, just honest. And honesty is necessary if we want this career to stop being romanticized to unrealistic standards.

It’s not glamorous; it’s a job. It’s work. It can be lonely, and we often have to show up again and again without an ounce of validation.

You can’t know for sure which events will pay off or be duds, much like how you don’t know which manuscripts will sell or be rejected, or which books will perform or flop.

You just keep writing.

You keep showing up.

You keep doing your job.

And look, I’m not suggesting you keep plowing ahead without any adjustments. I truly don’t think singular author events work the way they used to—not unless you are the Taylor Swift of the book world. People simply aren’t coming to events these days. Everyone is busy and money is tight, so if they do go to an event, they go BIG. (Hello, Eras Tour!)

So what does still work for events? In my opinion, it’s the well-run and heavily-publicized festivals and cons. For a smaller author, these events mean a guaranteed audience and a chance to be discovered by new readers. In my opinion, these are the events still worth your time… if you can snag an invite.⁴

I guess what I’m driving at when I say “keep showing up, keep doing your job” is that you have to keep putting in the work. For some of us that will mean experimenting with how/where/when we do events.⁵ For others, it may mean stopping events altogether unless an opportunity we really believe in presents itself. But for all of us it means not letting the low moments drag us down. It means being resilient enough to write the next thing in spite of the un-glamorous moments.

At the end of the day, the work that matters most is the writing. We have to keep showing up at the keyboard. We have to keep doing our job of telling stories if we want to put more books into the world. It’s as simple (and as hard) as that.

The act of writing may be solitary, but there is great solidarity among writers. We see each other—we get it—and that mutual understanding can make the tough parts bearable. We’re not nearly alone as we sometimes feel.

Until next time,

Erin Bowman is the critically acclaimed author of numerous books for children and teens, including the Taken Trilogy, Vengeance Road, Retribution Rails, the Edgar Award-nominated Contagion duology, The Girl and the Witch’s Garden, and Dustborn. A web designer turned author, Erin has always been invested in telling stories—both visually and with words. Erin lives in New Hampshire with her husband and children.

1. I mean, yes, writing a book is hard. But it’s not as though author responsibilities end with a drafted manuscript.

2. In fact,

Jodi Meadows

also posted about low/no-audience events today, and her piece is well worth your time. Read it here.

3. They were very nice despite all the issues.

4. Easier said than done, as it’s often out of our control.

5. A week after my event with no audience, I did another event that was a huge success. (Granted, it was me teaching a workshop. Totally different format. I expected it to go better, and it thankfully did!)