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Good morning! Hopefully none of you forgot about me, seeing as I haven’t posted in, well, a while. But over the last several weeks, I’ve found myself really struggling with just what to discuss here. And that’s for a bunch of reasons, which I’ll go into in a minute.

I wasn’t even sure what to title this post. I went with publishing, because I mean reading, and writing, and distribution, and the fact how we read — and what’s considered “valid” publishing has absolutely changed in recent years — so my goal is to cover a lot of territory, pretty much all of it under the generalized heading of “books.”

If you’re into any of the hobbies/interests/pursuits I am, you’ll have noticed something in the last decade or so about books. Not all that long ago, if you enjoyed reading for fun, you just went to the nearest library and took out a few titles that seemed cool, read them, returned to the library, and rinse and repeat. It was fine; more than that, for many of us, it filled in parts of our souls; it helped us learn about other cultures, dream of societies that may one day come to be, and made us laugh or healing-cry in ways other activities or endeavors did not. A book that really resonates with us, that seems to speak directly to our heart, is an incredibly valuable thing.

But. Then. Reading became a trend. Entire websites were created out of thin air to encourage us to gush lovingly about the authors/titles we cherished; and, unfortunately, even more so, to whine and bitch and rage about the ones we definitely did not. And, after a lot of introspection on this topic, I’ve realized something very, very bad: Goodreads has become about tearing down those with differing opinions, rage-baiting us into huge shouting matches regarding style and genre and totally subjective things, like whether first or third POV is “better.”

It’s only the start of the whole big problem. Now more than at any other point in civilized history, so many people are literate, and have access to a variety of reading material — physical copies, digital, audiobooks, trad pub, indie, even fanfiction has basically settled in as an acceptable category. For maybe the first time ever, comics and graphic novels are counted as reading by a lot of the mainstream book culture. This should simply be a positive thing. But.

If you’ve been on any social media platform (and indeed, there are gazillions of those now, too) discussing reading or writing since about 2015, you’ll know exactly what I’m saying. The trend dictates that we argue: trad versus indie, literary fiction versus genre fiction, modern versus classic. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Prologues, yes or no? Which is better, series or standalones? Death to all the tropes! — except all the favorite tropes! And these hot-button topics have to include timely, relevant, and so-new-it-won’t-happen-till-an-hour-from-now points and remarks and perspectives straight off the Instagram and Tiktok accounts of influencers who (surely) read 4389 books last year.

And in the end, what will we accomplish? Does anybody actually change their mind on prologues, “not like the other girls,” trilogies, or whether audio counts? Mostly…they don’t.

This is not fun. It’s not beneficial. It’s dumb. And exhausting.

Being a reader in this kind of toxic environment (because, yes, it is toxic) is hard enough. Now imagine being a writer on the battlefield of BookTok and BookTube. Your work could be subjected to unfair criticism, based solely on what tropes it does, or doesn’t, include; what narration style you like to use; whether you employed enough of this season’s buzz words; and how comparable to other recent releases your blurb makes your novel sound.

This is, by the way, assuming every influencer or reviewer who received a copy of your publication will, in fact, read it. Because, it turns out, now that “books” is a trend — and “literature” solidly an industry — we’ve reached the level of social-media-famous people (who used to work in marketing or fashion or tourism) being paid to record a prepared 30-second synopsis of what a publisher tells them they should say about the book.

And, because so many people are consuming short-form content (because no one can afford TV anymore and newspapers and magazines are all going digital and making you pay a lot more for them), this is how a whole lot of folks find out about new releases, and that’s what they’re buying.

And then… People realize these books were either AI produced, or ghostwritten (possibly by several individuals using very different outlines), or that they were rushed through, and…the short version is, these books suck. Titles spend 2 weeks on the bestseller list, only to be tossed into thrift store donation boxes, crammed into Little Free Libraries, placed on dozens of shelves in charity shops and library sales. This is, ironically, now its own trend, with the industry showing no signs of learning from their mistakes and preparing to pivot away.

Amid this turmoil, indie authors and the small press have absolutely claimed their spot. Marketing is more genuine (since budgets are smaller). Yes, there are some self-pub folks who use AI to create their content and don’t see an issue with doing so; but many of us are firmly against that, and readers do notice, and appreciate, the difference in how a totally-human-authored title reads. We are — almost without intending — a vital part of the industry, since eventually (I do believe) sales for trad pubs will drop (maybe dramatically across another couple seasons), and more readers will push for libraries and brick-and-mortar stores to carry indie works. That’s already started.

So, seeing as it appears I’ve nailed the answer to the question, “what’s happened to publishing?”, why do I continue to pontificate and opine?

Because we are not yet through the storm. We are presently in the middle of it. Right now, authors’ careers can be ended in one week by a handful of BookTok snobs lacking reading comprehension. Agents are deliberately told to reject queries that “sound too original or not on-topic.” Bookstores that aren’t part of a chain won’t stock non-trad-pubbed works because they’re convinced sales will take a big hit. You may not be invited to bookish events depending on your genre, your target audience, or your determination not to bring specific cultural discussions into the literary space.

(It’s actually happened to me. Years ago I was cut out of an entire group of fantasy authors because I mentioned Biblical lore/history in my debut, but did not blatantly label my work as “Christian fiction.” My work isn’t Christian fiction; it’s told from a Western world POV that recognizes the commonality of that religion and its affects on lifestyle and society, while also using, as plot points, many other mythologies and ancient tales. Like Tolkien, I despise allegory; so there isn’t meant to be a religious theme or message woven into my writing. Those who don’t like that, well, tough; I won’t change what/how I write just to placate them.)

But. (Here’s where what I’m about to admit really stings.) When you get removed, or choose to remove yourself, from a writing/reading community, you end up even more “out of the loop” (indies always risk being “out of the loop” by virtue of not having a big publicity team behind us). And when one of your main goals is to reach readers (not to become rich and famous, but to simply share your work), not gaining social media followers is a huge obstacle.

We have to engage in feeding the beast, to achieve what we desire, even if the method of getting there makes our skin crawl. No, I don’t expect to earn a living from my authorship; but, holy crap, that’d be amazing if I could. I poured literal blood, sweat and tears into my books; I want them to find their niche and be appreciated. I suck at typical marketing — because I won’t try to make myself into something/someone I’m not. I have no issue hollering into the void, “Hey, do you like cozy fantasy with characters who are nice people and belong to a secret organization that know the truth about monsters and mythical creatures and are in control of a warehouse full of magical artifacts? Yeah? Read my books!”But I hate comping, I hate pitches (Canva’s stealing art now, too, so I refuse to even make a mood board), and my body dysphoria prohibits taking provocative selfies with printed copies. Could I be reaching more potential readers by feeding the beast? Sure, that’s always a possibility. However.

I need to be able to sleep at night, confident in the knowledge that I made professional choices that won’t tear apart the personal me. That comes before sales, every time.

Hence, we are, at the moment, in the storm between the past of publishing (which was, yes, more exclusive, but also made sense and produced some truly great literature), and the present…whatever this mess is.

So, to the inevitable: How do we get through it?

My recommendation is to use public libraries as much as possible. Read low-star reviews of popular new releases (yes, I just said that), and compare not only the critiques of different (non-paid!) posts, but also think about what you want from a book. Don’t fall for the hype train — don’t rush to buy a title that “everybody is loving.” Save your hard-earned money for a release that speaks to your heart (for example, as a late birthday gift to myself, I did splurge on a new science-fantasy inspired by one of my favorite classics — because the whole premise made my soul sing).

The saying goes that companies start to change the way they’re doing business when customers hit them where it hurts: in the wallet. If we buy less AI-generated rubbish, eventually publishers will catch on.

Buy more indie. Request indie titles be included in your library system, or at that little corner bookstore. Review indies on not just Amazon, but Barnes & Noble (I’m a Nook Press author!), Kobo, Google Books, and if you still blog, on your blog. If somebody asks you to recommend a new read, throw a small press offering their way.

And don’t forget, this isn’t an “us versus them” situation. Plenty of trad authors are living, breathing humans who write every single sentence on the pages that bear their name (shout-out to my friend CG Drews!). Lots of agents and editors want real, live humans submitting queries and entering contests. Many online anthologies or zines won’t accept anything made via AI. It’s about banding together for artistic and integrity, and to increase access to literature while maintaining a standard of quality.

Can we make it?