Reflections a decade after debuting

11 things I've learned about publishing since my first book released

Sunday, April 16th, marked ten years since my debut novel hit shelves¹. This has been difficult for me to wrap my head around. In part, because time is fickle and also because my brain forever thinks 1999 was five years ago. By this logic, 2013 was… last week?

The publishing industry today is almost unrecognizable from the landscape I debuted into in 2013. Back then, group book tours were still a thing publishers arranged, blogs ruled the marketing world, booktube was only just starting to be influential, TikTok didn’t exist, sub boxes were a thing of the future, and the New York Times list looked completely different. For kidlit, it was combined print and ebook. That’s right—one list shared between YA and MG, with hardcover, paperback, and ebook sales of a title counting toward the novel’s list chances. I remember authors jokingly calling it the John Green list back then because he routinely held around 3-4 of the ten slots. It was virtually impossible to hit as a debut.² The list is still hard to hit—heck, I’ve never hit it!—but back then it was so much harder.

But I’m going on a tangent, and this post isn’t about the list. My point is simply that publishing has changed a LOT since I debuted, and this may be another reason why I’m shocked it’s been an actual decade since Taken hit shelves.

I’ve done “Things I’ve learned” posts before (see here and here), but nothing recently. And as I reflect on the past decade, I have a lot of thoughts that seem worth sharing.

I want to preface this post by saying I’m extremely grateful for the opportunities I’ve had. If anything, my gratitude has only grown in the past ten years because I realize now how truly difficult this industry is and how fortunate any author is to land not just one book deal, but several.

This list of lessons is pretty honest and raw, but I want to reiterate that I feel very, very lucky.

Okay. Let’s dig in…

1 — Careers ebb and flow

A big piece of advice that often floats around the publishing world is to just keep writing and good things will happen. And to an extent, yes. Good things do happen to writers who keep writing. But it is also possible to keep writing and experience more of the same. It’s possible to see your career grow, then slump. Or slump, then grow. It’s possible to flatline. To go downhill. Continuing to write is a shared variable across many outcomes.

If we plotted 100 authors’ careers on graph paper, careers that look like hills and valleys would be far more common than careers that skyrocketed straight off the chart. And even for the careers that overall experience slow, upward growth, it’s likely valleys would still be present.

Hardly anyone experiences constant high-level success. There is one Taylor Swift but many “one hit wonders.” Blockbuster level success is special in any industry and the same is true in publishing. Household names like Stephen King are rare. If you are looking to become the next literary sensation, prepare for disappointment because the odds that it will happen for you are so, so, so extremely low.

I don’t say this to be to be cruel, but to temper your expectations. Dream for it all you want, but even still, remember that it can be painful when dreams don’t come true. These days, I dream of a career with hills and valleys that trends upwards on average.

2 — Social media doesn’t sell books

This may sound controversial, because of course social media sells books. Colleen Hoover sold more books than the Bible in 2022 because of TikTok. The platform has helped many YA books break out. There are literal BookTok tables at B&N these days.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is that you, alone, posting on social media will not sell books at a similar scale. Something organic and bizarre needs to happen beyond your individual reach for a book to go viral online. So if you don’t enjoy making reels or tiktoks, free yourself of it now. Just stop doing it. Books can go viral without the author even having a presence online because true virality happens when readers go bonkers for the book, not when the author makes cute videos. It’s when thousands (or millions) of users on a given platform begin discussing a certain title, often without the author’s involvement, that things take off. (Nicole Brinkley recently wrote a piece called BookTok is Dead, Long Live BookTok, in which she points out how authors—and publishers—perhaps shouldn’t be these virtual book spaces anyway. Leave it to the readers!³)

Going viral on social media (and selling books as a result) is not something you can manufacture. It is not something you, the author, can control. So go write your next book. Write so that if/when your book draws the lucky card and goes viral, you have a really great backlist available for readers to also discover.

3 — You start over with each new novel

I hate this so much, but in my experience, it’s true. If you’re releasing a sequel, it is less true, as you’re building on the previous book. But for every standalone, or every first-in-a-new-series release, you start over FROM SCRATCH.

Being an author isn’t like most traditional jobs where you will get paid what you were paid last week and the week before, or maybe even get a raise as you continue to put forth great work. No, as an author, you start over. The publisher considers what you should earn for this book. Then you market it again. Hope it gets good reviews again. Hope for sub boxes and B&N picks and Indie Next List features and passionate, vocal readers who will drive word-of-mouth. You go after blurbs. You promote and market. You push preorders.

There is a giant list of work that needs to happen and stars that need to align for each new book to make a splash… and that slate is wiped clean every time you publish a new novel. Even for the big authors. (Sure, they are more likely to get some of the fancier things because their track record shows them to be safe bets, but they still restart from scratch.)

It is exhausting.

I try to give my books their best chance, but if I see that certain things aren’t happening—if the pub doesn’t have big marketing plans and I haven’t gotten many preorders and the book isn’t in a single sub box (this happened with Dustborn)—I tell myself to relax. I try to divorce myself from the book’s performance. Its sales aren’t my responsibility alone, and I can only control so much—mainly the words. I already wrote a great book. I can’t do anything other than talk about the release and promote it as best I can. There is no sense working myself to death and/or dumping large amounts of my own money into marketing efforts, especially if the book is shaping up to have a quiet release.

Save your money. Save your energy. Promote your book in ways that are free, straightforward, and/or a good use of your time, but after that: write the next book.

4 — No one cares more about your book than you

This is not to say that your editor doesn’t love your novel. (They do.) It doesn’t mean your agent isn’t rooting for you (they are) or that your publisher wants your book to fail (they don’t). Everyone involved in sending your book into the world wants your book to succeed.

It’s just important to understand that no one cares more than you, the author. It is your novel—your blood, sweat, and tears—and the season/year it comes out, you are the one most invested in its performance. Your agent has other clients releasing novels that season/year and other writers on sub hoping to sell. Your editor has acquired other books to edit. Your publisher has an entire list of releases every season.

Every author naturally wants their book to get All The Things. But each season, only a few books can get that level of support. It’s not personal. It’s just business. Hope for the best, plan for the worst, and make peace with the fact that your book’s marketing plans are not a reflection of your worth, skill, or story.

5 — Protect your mental health

Traditional publishing is brutal—mentally and emotionally.