Writing at the speed of publishing

Get in your rocket and go!

I’ve been thinking about what it means to be a slow writer. Or a fast writer. Or a somewhere in-between writer. And how what we want to be can change over time — and how we can get trapped in cycles that force us into undesirable production speeds.

Primarily, I’m going to talk about wanting to slow down. But I need to acknowledge the privilege in that. The fact is, I have work. I have had work. And boy do I feel lucky. I know a lot of authors who’ve been forced to slow down because contracts are harder to come by. Or burnout. Or financial reasons.

It’s hard out there.

A lot of authors want to slow down.

Including me.

When I was a new writer (pre-publication), I thought I could write fast forever. Even after I got my first contract, I thought I could do it. I have a vivid memory of seeing an author a couple years ahead of me saying that two books a year was too much. Don’t do it. And I remember thinking I could do it.

Now it’s me warning friends not to do it.

Not if they can avoid it.

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For me, slowing down would mean one book a year. Or perhaps one book every couple of years. Better yet, I’d take the time I needed to finish a whole series, then publish it relatively quickly.¹ I’d love to be able to do that, actually.

Because honestly, a book a year is hard. It doesn’t seem like it should be, but there’s drafting, revising, editing, more editing, copyedits, pass pages, and promotion — at the same time as you’re trying to get the next book ready to go, and thinking about how you have a book for two years from now, but not three, so it’s time to start planning another new book.

And two books a year — which I’ve done several times thanks to cowriting — is extra super hard. Really. I mean it. Don’t do it.²

This schedule I’ve been keeping has involved a lot of late nights. Overlapping deadlines. Working in spite of burnout. Crying months. Health problems. Financial stress. And more.

But slowing down would have had professional consequences, so for a long time, I toughed it out. I worked harder. I pushed past my limits.³ And only last year did I have the courage to say that I just . . . needed more time. I couldn’t do it anymore. And, miraculously, the MY LADY JANE show got a green light, which I felt would help mitigate some of the side effects of putting up a boundary.

Wild that it took all that, huh?

But it did. And I’m not the only author weighing these things.

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What are the consequences of slowing down?

I’m glad you asked. Let’s talk about the financial aspect, first.

In general, writing is not a business you get into if you want to amass wealth. Most of us knew that going in. We write because we love it, because it fulfills us. And maybe — maybe — we can make enough to pay our bills.

Sure, there are authors who make a good amount of money per book. Bestsellers,⁴ consistent award winners,⁵ and authors with connections. But that’s not most of us.

Also not most of us? Generational wealth. Spouses with large incomes.

When you break down advances over the years it takes to fulfill a contract (and then take out the agent commission⁶ and taxes), many authors are making shockingly little money. Not nearly enough to live on. So what’s a writer to do? Finish that contract as fast as possible and get another one. Hope the next one is for more money.

Or . . . get another job.

Plenty of authors do have other jobs, actually. They have to. Writing money won’t cut it. Another job means stability. (Ideally.) But not everyone has the ability to work another job, perhaps because of health, family, or anything else that takes up their valuable time and energy.⁷

What’s more, no one who’s already putting out a book a year should have to get another job to be able to make it. The one job should be enough.

In the end, a lot of authors just . . . can’t afford to keep writing. Not at the pace needed to make enough money to live.

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Publisher support.

I know authors who’ve been told that if they’re late — if their book has to change seasons — the publisher cannot guarantee the level of support they would have had if they turn in the book on time.

This is not something every author experiences when they’re late. But the fear of losing support in-house is there. (And what happens when you lose support? Potentially fewer sales. Which leads down the path of financial stress. The cycle continues.) Since publisher support is already limited for most authors, the idea of losing more is terrifying.

Sure, some authors will be given extra months — or even years — to finish a book if they need, without consequence. Part of that has to do with how well the author’s previous books have done, or how much the publisher paid for the book. If the publisher paid an enormous advance for the book, they have a lot of money to recoup and they will get behind it no matter what.

And they know the book will not lose . . .

Reader support.

We live in a very instant gratification culture. We readers (I am a reader too!) have been trained to expect books on a schedule. A fast schedule, especially when it’s a series.

There are some exceptions, of course. I’m sure we can all think of two or three authors who’re behind on their series — maybe years behind. And for those exceptions, the publishers (knowing the readers will show up) will support the book, perhaps issue fresh editions with updated cover art or a new introduction, and the book will do just fine. Indeed, much money will be made on the new book — and the earlier ones!

But that’s not the case for most authors. If a midlist series is just sort of . . . unfinished for a while, most readers will forget about it.⁸ Partly because the publisher wouldn’t have reminded everyone or made a fuss about the latest in the super bestselling of every list series, and partly because we just can’t hold space for everything. There are a lot of books. A lot of authors. They can’t all be everything to us.

The same goes for even a new book by an author who hasn’t been around for a while. Without a big fuss being made, we readers just . . . forget.

And that possibility of being forgotten? By your own readers? It’s chilling. Without my readers, I don’t have a job. It’s just me in my daytime pajamas, steadily making my eyesight worse by staring at the screen.

The fear of those consequences drives a lot of authors into unhealthy behavior. Recall what I said above about the health issues. The burnout.

It’s exhausting to keep up this pace, to create, to be joyful, to have passion for the work.

For many authors, the ability to slow down a little would be a privilege. It’s the dream, to be able to support ourselves through writing without sacrificing our physical and mental health to do it.

That doesn’t mean we want to be lazy or get paid for doing nothing. We want to write. Many of us wrote for years before getting published without any kind of assurance that we’d ever be paid for it. But now it is a job. And that job requires more than just writing.

Because most authors are taking on a lot of the promotional efforts, in addition to the writing. We feel like we must, in order to sell books.

Publisher support is limited. It’s largely going to go to the books that got big advances: from pitching to important outlets, to creating marketing materials, to just posting for free on social media. So midlist authors are picking up a significant part of that work, too. While writing as fast as we can to keep getting paid.

Gosh, this is a long post, isn’t it? And kind of depressing. I don’t mean it to be. But I do want to help people understand some of the reasons why authors will take on more work, risking health, burnout, relationships, and yeah, sometimes the quality of the work.

I can’t speak for other authors, but one of my biggest goals in publishing is to be able to afford to slow down.

To not hustle.

To not spend so much time promoting myself.

To not be responsible for getting myself to events, on panels, or on listicles.

What I want is to be able to afford to do the thing I imagined I’d do as a published author: write. Enjoy the process. Live in the world I created. And have reasonable confidence that my publisher will buy the book for a decent amount of money, then put a decent amount of effort into supporting it.

That does not seem like an unreasonable thing to want.

I’m not there right now, though. And unless there’s a Bigolas Dickolas out there for one of my books, I don’t think I’ll be there for a bit. So I’m going to keep looking ahead — do I have a book for 2024? Yes. What about 2025? Maybe. — and keep planning to release a book a year as long as it’s possible.⁹ ¹⁰

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What can you take away from this?

Well, it’s not fair to compare your speed to another author’s. Different advantages and disadvantages mean we’re all just doing our best in a system that doesn’t accomodate everyone’s needs.

Authors will make questionable choices out of desperation to stay in the business because we love writing. We want to be able to keep doing it.

There is no moral judgement in slow or fast writing. Some writers are naturally speedier than others, while some need more time.

Writing speed does not determine quality. It can influence quality, however, especially when an author is fighting their natural speed. (And keep in mind, that can change, too!) Or when outside influences are affecting the author’s life and sucking up brain power, emotional bandwidth, and time. (Life happens to us all.)

Again, I know this one is long. And not super uplifting. But it’s been on my mind for a while, and I bet that others have been thinking about it, too. If that’s you, please know you’re not alone!

If you need a break, I hope you can take one. And if you’re being forced to take a break because of forces outside your control, I hope you are slammed with work very soon. (And also I hope you use this time to refill your creative well and find your joy again. You deserve to write with joy.)

If any of this resonates with you, please share with a friend!

And here’s a bonus cat photo since this was a tough one.

1. Why don’t you self publish? you may be asking. That’s possible in self publishing!

Well, yes, it is. But self publishing comes with its own challenges, some I’d be up for, and some I would rather not deal with. Discussing challenges in the system I’m in doesn’t mean I want to go to a completely different system.

2. Oh I know some authors can. I know some authors are doing several books a year. And frankly, good for them. I’m happy they can. But I’d also implore you to think about what kind of support they have — both personally and professionally. Is money a concern? (Financial anxiety can make it really hard to be creative or get into the work!)

And regardless, all authors work at different speeds. All books go at different speeds, too. And publishing just . . . isn’t good for accounting for that for everyone.

3. Not in the inspirational movie montage sort of way. I mean in the genuinely unhealthy way.

4. I mean big bestsellers. Authors whose books are on the list for many weeks at a time, selling thousands of copies a week for the first few months, then hundreds a week for a long time after.

A lot of authors — myself included — have the title of NYT bestseller, but it’s because of one very good week. The sales numbers are not the same.

5. Sometimes! This often requires a lot of publisher support, ensuring the book gets nominated, gets read, gets reviews, gets put into schools and libraries, etc.

6. WORTH IT.

7. This is often on top of unpaid work, such as raising and managing kids, keeping the house, being a caretaker to someone. All of those things can be full-time jobs of their own. I know so many women — because let’s be honest, a lot of this work falls to women — who essentially have multiple full-time jobs.

8. I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN the last book in the Thief Errant series. IF THAT BOOK EVER RELEASES, I will be the first one to get a copy. SOBBING FOREVER.

9. And it might not be possible. It depends whether publishers think whatever book I submit next is a reasonable financial risk.

10. But I don’t want to do two books a year . . . for a while, anyway. At some point, I’ll talk more about my schedule collapsing and deadlines overlapping. It’s possible for that to happen with one book a year, of course, but two books a year? Everything has to go exactly right, and if it doesn’t? Tears. Many tears.