Why You Shouldn't Write a Book
Channeling the right mindset from the outset
A large part of my job as a nonfiction-focused agent involves having first conversations with potential authors about the book world. Every once in a while, they will start the chat with this question: “In your opinion, why should I write a book?” I used to gather my wits and try to put forward the most persuasive case possible: a book can boost your platform and reputation in ways that more ephemeral writing or coverage cannot, it can help your ideas or research find a worldwide audience, it has the chance to live on long after you’re gone . . . books are just RAD, dang it! But over time I realized there was a truer, and more helpful, answer, which I now respond with every time:
“You shouldn’t.”
That sounds more than a bit waggish, so I try to immediately follow it up with clarification: writing a book (not to mention querying agents, pitching editors, and promoting said book) is so much work that “should” reasons will never be powerful enough to carry you through the process. Think about it: if you spend, let’s say, six months creating a book proposal (more on that next week), three months getting a book deal and signing a contract, twelve months writing the full manuscript, ten months in the editorial and production process, and at least a couple of months talking/writing about the book for promotion—that means you will spend nearly three years of your life with this book taking up a substantial portion of your brain. A book is not a “should” project—it’s a “want” or even “need” project.
In those author calls, I think it’d be much more helpful if I were asked “Why shouldn’t I write a book?” So for the sake of this week’s post, let’s pretend that you just asked me that question.
Why you shouldn’t write a book
It can be super hard to land an agent. Literary agents usually take on what seems like very few clients. I only represent 28 authors at the moment, for example. And though it might not seem like it when you’re trying to find an agent, this is a good thing for authors: if I just started recklessly signing up more and more authors I would quickly become so swamped that I wouldn’t be able to properly represent any of my authors by putting significant time and effort into their projects.
It can be super hard to get editors interested. The average established editor at an average publisher/imprint considers a lot of book proposals. They might easily be reading five book proposals each week, and I bet some receive more than that. (Editors: let me know if that squares with your experience in the comments! I’m always curious to get more numbers.) Even if an editor is interested in one book proposal every week of the year (doubtful), that would still mean they are passing on 80% of the proposals they see.
It can be super hard to get offers from publishers. Editor interest is only half the battle—in most cases, they have to share the proposal with their colleagues and then make a persuasive case in an editorial board meeting to actually field an offer for publication. In my time as an editor at W. W. Norton, I bet I walked out of that board meeting with an offer in hand less than a third of the time. And that success rate was probably even lower for first-time authors.
By the time you have an offer in hand, you have faced a barrage of rejections. Even when everything with a book proposal goes perfectly—when the author and I are passionate about and fully committed to a project, when the author has created a dream proposal, when multiple editors make offers to publish the book—even then, we might field 26 rejections along the way! (True story.) If you don’t “want” or “need” to write your book, this barrage of personalized rejections from smart professionals can drag you down in a hurry.
You probably can’t quit your day job. Even with an offer in hand, that doesn’t mean you’ll be well-compensated as you write your book. Offers from publishers will specify an advance against royalties to be paid to the author, but that advance is usually split into three or four payments, and the first payment is usually the only one you’ll get before you start writing the book. So even if you overcome all the previous hurdles and have landed a drool-worthy $100,000 advance, you’ll only be getting around $30,000 as you write your book over the next year or so. And if we get a little more realistic—the fattest part of the bell-curve for first-time nonfiction authors is probably around $50,000 in my limited experience—we’re looking at more like $15,000 before taxes for your writing year.
You might not find your audience. And even if you land an agent, an editor, and a book deal that comes with wads of cash, that doesn’t mean your book will necessarily find the wide audience we’re all hoping for. There are no guarantees when it comes to book launches. Even the most rational among us will clasp our hands together and gaze skyward in the month before publication, praying for national media to materialize on the hilltop like some sort of host of bespectacled Rohirrim.
And the genuflection is for good reason: it is (you guessed it) super hard to get coverage for a new book, even when everything else goes right. And sometimes it doesn’t: competing titles that seem very similar suddenly pop up close to your publication date, preliminary interest from NPR evaporates, and pandemics and military invasions sweep book coverage out of the news cycle entirely. When that happens, the despair and frustration can feel just as real as if the book hadn’t been published at all.
Do you still want to write a book?
After that parade of Debbie-Downers, let’s get to the good news: no matter how you answer the above question at this point, it’s cause for real celebration. If the answer is “no,” congratulations! You just recovered a truly staggering number of hours that you can devote to something more meaningful and rewarding. (In the recent DOJ vs. PRH antitrust trial, HarperCollins CEO Brian Murray suggested writing a book might take 2,000 hours. Even if that number was randomly plucked out of thin air, we’re still talking about a sizeable chunk of your life.)
And if the answer is “yes,” congratulations! You’re about to pour your heart and soul (and a staggering number of hours) into something that might change your life, and the lives of your readers.
More good news that needs to be mentioned here as well: the worth of you and your book is not defined by the ability to successfully negotiate all of these obstacles. As I’ve said before, and I’ll say again, we’re all humans in publishing. We make inconsistent decisions. We sometimes lack vision. Maybe an editor or agent worked on a tangentially similar project years ago, and had a terrible experience that colors their judgment. Or maybe they had such a wonderful experience with it that they don’t want to muddy the waters with an existing favorite author by signing up something similar! There are countless random reasons for rejection, and many have nothing to do with the author or the book. And many worthy projects have been self-published after not landing with traditional publishers. So remember this: success on your book journey is not determined by publishers, editors, or agents. If you find your readers, and they are enriched by your book, that is what matters most.
All that said, who wouldn’t want financial, editorial, marketing, publicity, and sales support from a big, enthusiastic publisher? So, next week, let’s take our first step into the book publishing world by covering the entire hook-to-book journey as clearly and concisely as possible.