So, I published my first book. The publishers were thrilled. Then came the second, the third shortly after, and the fourth in no time. No chance to catch my breath. The promotion suffered, and sales were, shall we say, disappointing.
- But were your books actually distributed?
- Oh yes, in some bookstores, of course!
- "Some" as in how many?
- More than ten, less than twenty...
- Talk about "breaking into the market."
- Yeah, but you know what? Thousands of books come out every day. And if you calculate their volume and multiply it by two thousand...
- Two thousand?
- Sadly, yes. All debut authors, all brimming with enthusiasm. An army of soldiers marching straight into machine guns...
- You mean the ever-optimistic aspiring writer?
- Exactly! The one who sulks when they’re not on the bestseller list after a week. A sort of mass-produced Arturo Bandini—except he was a charming bastard, and that was another era. Back then, they paid upfront. Anyway, we’re talking about 1.90 cubic meters of books per day. Basically, a dump truck.
- Not quite like delivering gravel to the high-speed railway construction site...
- No, it’s just the sheer volume of books churned out daily by publishing houses. And this doesn’t even include self-published books.
- Which amount to...?
- No one really knows. Hundreds of thousands, maybe millions! It’s like our galaxy. For years, they’ve debated whether there are 200 or 400 billion stars, and they still haven’t figured it out. This is a nation of saints, sailors, and writers...
- All brilliant, I assume.
- Until proven otherwise, yes. But nature teaches us that when balance is lost...
- It goes without saying...
- It goes without saying that bookstores can only stock 0.4% of the books published by traditional publishers—and not a single one by self-publishing authors.
- Well, that’s something!
- If it were GDP growth, it’d be great news!
- Instead, it’s the new literature: measured in cubic meters, like natural gas.
- So, to get noticed, you hustle for book signings, chase after reviews and newspaper articles. Book signings were a godsend—before Covid. For reviews and press, you queue up and hope to charm a blogger.
- You mean, like, the Pope?
- Some bloggers act like that! I once had a spat with the editor of a top-tier blog. Actually, no, the top-tier blog.
- Why? You’re as peaceful as a sloth in summer.
- Nothing major. I asked them to review a book of mine that won a literary contest. Then another one that won a festival. And... they refused.
- What a delight. And why was that?
- Because I’m not famous.
- But famous authors don’t care about blog reviews. They go on late-night talk shows.
- Try explaining that to him
- No thanks. I’d be too blunt, and you seem hopelessly diplomatic. So, what now?
- Now, I push on social media.
- Which ones?
- Easier to say which ones I don’t use...
- Okay then, which ones don’t you use?
- Let me think... Nope, I’m on all of them.
- Even X?
- Even that cesspool!
- But X is just an insult arena! Nobody cares about novels! The only book-related hashtag is #book!
- Well, since I was at it...
- And what do authors do on all these platforms?
- It’s a charming little mess. Rarely do they encourage each other. Sometimes they read one another. More often, they despise each other, dodge each other like sidewalk dog poop, badmouth each other, reject criticism, get outraged over feedback, and desperately try to sell their books. They buy their competitor’s ebook just to slap it with a one-star review. They brag about their Amazon ratings, which for all I know, could be written by their aunt in exchange for walking her poodle to the pedicurist.
- And yet, none of these books make it to bookstore shelves because of the sheer volume...
- Exactly. Just like the cubic meters of gravel.
- No way out. You need a blog!
- Already got one.
- A blog is serious business!
- Tell me about it. High-quality content, award-winning short stories, exclusive pieces, SEO-friendly keywords blessed by Google Trends. Google Analytics as my sidekick, and relentless social media sharing.
- On which platforms?
- Practically all of them.
- Right, I forgot. Hate to break it to you, but it’s all useless.
- In what way?
- Old news. Overdone. Links are dull, they glaze over people’s eyes, pass unnoticed like yet another streaming TV series.
- So what now?
- Now, videos! Short, snappy, TikTok-style. Slogans, flashy visuals. Think ‘80s luxury ads. Words are boring, lectures are annoying. People don’t have time. You need balls of steel, a smooth pitch, a decent microphone, studio lighting like a daytime talk show, and a solid video editor. And then you. You need to flirt with the camera, seduce your followers. It’s the author that sells, not the book!
- But I’m shy!
- Then you shouldn’t have become a writer!
- But writers are supposed to be grumpy hermits, hunched over their desks like modern-day Leopardi, living on unrequited love. And besides, I’m not photogenic!
- Let me see... right profile... left... forehead...
- I just don’t have that charming, smug smile, you know? I can’t even fake it.
- Yeah, breaking the screen takes something else. Have you done the swimsuit test?
- Are you saying I should...?
- Worst-case scenario, post a shot of yourself on a rock by the sea, looking like you just wrestled an octopus barehanded. Your abs aren’t flabby, are they?
- What does this have to do with writing novels?
- Everything! Listen, I hate to be blunt, but you’ve got two choices: either you die and pray for posthumous fame, or you hit the gym... or...
- Or?
- Or cause a scandal. Get on TV and make headlines. Something harmless—like dating the heir to the throne of some irrelevant kingdom or streaking naked through the city center on a Saturday afternoon. Helicoptering, of course...
- Naturally. That’d land me a couple of months in jail.
- Exactly! You’ll become an influencer, and then—whoosh! Sky’s the limit!
- So, no more mystery, aloofness, and that touch of arrogance great authors could once afford?
- Old news. You need to sell yourself cheap: free books online, book trailers, and self-interview videos.
- I can’t do it.
- You’re obsolete, my friend. While we’re talking, let’s see... another 240 books have just been published.
- And if I go to sleep, by the time I wake up...
- Exactly! Tomorrow morning, it’ll be a thousand more. Sleep is for losers. Get to work!
- Now?
- When else? You’re already aging out of the trend! By the way, have you run a social media poll to see what people actually want to read?
- Like what?
- Like, I don’t know—do they prefer the usual girl found dead in the woods, the omnipotent serial killer, the detective with a nervous tic, or the German shepherd with Sherlockian instincts?
- But isn’t it the writer’s job to set the trend, define the style, and take risks?
- Sure, but that way you lose your target audience, botch your branding, miss your market, and fumble your communication. Think about it.
- I have. I’m starting a gardening blog.
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