Commerce Over Art?

Trying to make a living as a writer

Ever since I showed an interest in writing, I’ve been warned about the prospects of making money. My parents, teachers, and friends constantly tell me that being a successful author is a low probability; writing should really be a side hobby while I work on my career. But I enjoyed the idea of being paid to do what I love, so I pursued it. As I grew older, I practiced my writing skills and improved over time, but I found myself changing parts of my work (character, plot, tone) in order to appeal to a wider demographic. After all, if I did get to publish a book, I would want as many readers as possible. I tried to balance the art and commerce aspects of my passion so that I could have the best of both worlds. I wanted to write but, at the same time, I wanted to make money from my work. The problem is: why should I have to compromise my own art to be successful?

This seems to be an issue in modern-day publishing (and the art world in general), where artists have to compromise their vision to make money. Publishing houses are always looking for the next bestseller, opting to pick books that will likely be a big hit and rake in cash. The majority of books in a genre feel the same because it’s what’s popular with audiences. But it really limits what authors can produce since their goal is to write more palatable content for general audiences. My main question is: Should publishing be about art or commerce? Should one take precedence over the other? Is there a way to balance the two?

The problem of art vs. commerce starts with the publishing industry itself. The indecisiveness between the two avenues is what causes this dilemma. Publishers pass up books that don’t have the potential to be bestsellers. That leads writers to try and cheat the system. As Holly Robinson, author of “Art vs. Commerce: Can Writers Make It Without Day Jobs?” puts it: “If you do want to make a living as a writer, you'd better be diverse, flexible, and… willing to write for the market, or you won't sell anything.” The secret algorithm of the publishing industry has writers in a chokehold, where creativity is only praised if it can make a quick buck.

Even though publishing houses argue that “one cannot ‘anticipate’ a blockbuster… whether a book will sell at all… is anyone’s guess” there are indicators as to what might sell better than others. The author’s reputation, the content of the book, and even the art on the cover can make or break the book’s success. Looking at trends from previous years and seeing what is currently popular helps determine which books publishers should focus on. These formulas then affect what publishers will reject or accept, using very little judgment on how audiences will react to seeing the same story a dozen more times.

But the real issue comes from what publishers think their audience wants to read. Customers’ previous purchasing history is what drives publishing houses’ data because that’s what they know will sell. And what sells are the classics. As Katy Waldman writes in The New Yorker; “Despite their aura of idealistic adventure, publishing executives have shown themselves to be fiercely risk-averse… The industry’s dominant shops appear to have calculated that safety lies in what readers know—a category that may or may not overlap with what readers want.” How many times have you walked into a bookstore and seen multiple versions of Frankenstein or The Great Gatsby? Not that these aren’t good books—their popularity withstands the test of time—but what needs do they serve being rereleased every decade in a fancy, new cover? It’s because they’ll sell no matter what. People like to have the classics with them, whether it’s because they enjoy the book or want to feel smarter than they are. Publishers like to play it safe and choose books they know will sell, rather than take a risk and lose money.

Now that we know what publishers do and likely will continue to do, how should writers react? What side should we choose? It would be nice to be able to express niche artistic visions without risking a paycheck. But writing purely for money could lead to lackluster work that the writer isn’t proud of. As Robinson writes for Huffington Post, “Once you start trying to produce for the marketplace, there can either be great exhilaration as you get into the zone and begin happily, breathlessly creating, or there can be a crash-and-burn as you realize there's no way to make the project fly in time for the deadline.” It would be great for writers to be paid for work they enjoy creating, but realistically, this is impossible. Publishing houses seem set in their ways and want to be the ones who win the capitalist race. There’s no way for them to be able to publish books that aren’t guaranteed to be bestsellers while also making a profit.

There doesn’t seem to be an easy solution to this one. If there was, it would have likely been enacted a long time ago. The best any writer can do is hold their breath when it comes to the Big Five and hope that their book gets picked up. It does seem especially unfair to new or niche writers, considering that the Big Five have the “reputation, breadth of distribution, breadth of marketing, and—perhaps most important–extensive backlists that generate enough revenue to offset potential losses.” Even if they did worry about losing out on money, they have enough titles in their catalog to ensure that they wouldn’t go into debt. Small risks could benefit both publishers and artists in the end, introducing new writers to the industry. The publishers have enough money to be able to do this, but to them, any drop in sales is considered bad business. They seem to favor business over art and forget that the point of art is to inspire and/or entertain.  So why don’t big-name publishers take a risk and support writers? Publishing houses should promote art while using the commerce they earn to promote more art, not the other way around.

I have a lot of anxieties about the future and, unfortunately, my future paycheck is one of them. I don’t want to have to compromise my work just so I can eat at the end of the day. Thinking about it is discouraging for a young writer, especially since I was told that I would have to work multiple jobs in order to pursue my passion. I can only hope that once the new generation of publishers moves in, the industry will start to change.


A photograph of author Alex Ciardella, who graduated from Susquehanna University in 2023.

Born and raised in New Jersey, Alex Ciardella (’23) has been writing since the third grade. Her love for stories has followed her for her whole life and inspired her to go to university for a writing degree. Bouncing from magazines, to blogs, to newspapers, Alex continued writing so that she could share her words with the rest of the world. She hopes that one day she will become a published author and wants to pursue this dream no matter where her career takes her.

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