The Immortal Lifespan of Your Novel
“I wrote The Egg in an evening but it took years to write The Martian. Sometimes I'm a little sad that The Martian wasn't anywhere near as popular, but I guess it's a niche readership. Hard sci-fi isn't for everyone,” Andy Weir once told Reddit.
I’m usually a
Susie-Come-Lately. My to-be reads are often books that have not only hit the
height of popularity, but fallen from it. Often decades ago. Recently I’ve been
finishing up with young adult books I’d been planning on reading since I was in
the demographic—and finding my cynical adulthood problematic in my enjoyment of
these things.
So imagine my
surprise when I first learned that the writer of The Martian, successful sci-fi novel and movie, was the same guy
who wrote “The Egg,” a short story so memorable that I recognized it years
later despite having only glossed over it when it was making the rounds.
Andy Weir was one
of the reasons (the second being Leigh Bardugo) that caused me to start posting
Stories of the Wyrd and realizing how
a good, free short story could sell a novel.
Today I found this
quote on Andy Weir’s AMA (Ask Me Anything) on Reddit and it covers some
interesting bases from all sides.
I’m the first to
say that speed of writing has no consistent correlation to quality. Despite
what people may say, a quickly written work could potentially be better than an
arduous one because it was written
quickly, with no censorship, a better sense of flow and continuity. Let’s not
lie to ourselves, it can also be a tangent-filled mess while a piece that took
a long time could be just as precise and meaningful as you’d want. I’m not
advocating writing as fast as you can, but that you can’t judge a book by how
fast it wanted to come out.
The second part is
more obvious: “I’m a little said that The Martian wasn’t anywhere near as popular.”
He wrote this right
after “The Egg” became an internet phenomenon, but before The Martian hit its stride.
If you don’t travel
in sci-fi circles, The Martian is a
sort of rags-to-riches story, being initially published online for free before
he offered it up on Kindle for a buck. From there The Martian became a New York Times bestseller. The Kindle version sold way more than the
free, and an agent got in contact with Weir. Random House quickly bought up the
rights, and four days after signing with them, Hollywood called.
Matt Damon starred,
and the film was a financial success, making 630 million worldwide.
“I’m a little sad
that The Martian wasn’t anywhere near as popular.”
Notice the past
tense?
It’s not entirely
wrong to consider a book’s debut its lifespan. Typically, the largest
percentage of sales happen right at launch; if you’re going to hit the best
sellers list, it’ll be early on. Self-publishers agree that having more book
will make you more successful than trying to sell one.
But what makes us
think a book is dead?
Despite having far
more to go with The Dying Breed, a
lot more to try, I have long been considering the book “unsuccessful.” Though
it receives compliments on its craft and my credibility, and I personally like
the book immensely, it has never gotten much enthusiasm, even compared to
another, less polished novel I’m working on. I’ve commented on its genre, and
how I first started it just before the peak of dystopian novels, finishing the
edits once the dystopian thing has become more or less has-been. My plans
entail shopping it out a little more, but ultimately I expect to put it aside
in favor of more marketable/hooking novels, perhaps self-publishing at a later
date. I’ve been distinctly considering going on an “American Tour” of writers
conferences perhaps in 2019, and I doubt this will be the book I’m still
shopping around.
So this quote hits
me hard.
Despite all of the
stories about great books not being well received, living in anonymity, or even
being outright criticized early on, I’ve sort of developed the unconscious
opinion that a book is received how it is received, period. If a novel is
written in the forest and no one’s around to read it, can it be any good?
Quality is measured by perspective, and I know better than anyone how we don’t
always agree on what is great. So why is it that I’ve started to lump everyone
together?
But I’ve been doing
that a lot lately. I suppose it came from my years of giving people the benefit
of the doubt and getting bitten. I’ve been struggling with stereotyping and
generalizing, realizing that people really do follow the patterns laid out for
them more than I ever thought. When I say that I would take advice from my
younger self, not give it, a big part of that would be my yearning for my unflappable
belief in diversity and confidence in my perspective.
I’ve sort of had
this acceptance that I will continue to work in obscurity, putting things out
there and seeing minimal change in reaction. I’m not entirely dismayed to think
that. I don’t necessarily want fame and the attention that comes with it, but I
do wish that I’d make enough money to survive, and that I could touch a good
number of readers like many books have touched me. It’d be nice to make
something iconic, something with a costume or name that most people would recognize
if referenced. I want a good number of people to care, and I want to be
financially free enough and creatively respected enough to do what I want
without too much restriction.
Several of Stephen
King’s books were written prior to Carrie,
published after his debut novel’s success. J.K. Rowling was rejected by 12
publishers until a child happened to read it. One-hundred-and-forty publishers
rejected Chicken Soup for the Soul.
Twenty-four literary agents turned down The
Notebook… but the funniest part of that story was the very first response
he got was an acceptance and he sat back thinking others would follow suit.
They didn’t.
We can tell these
stories time and time again, but it’s pretty easy to put yourself into a box,
see what “kind of writer” you are, and call it a day. Same goes for your
novels. “I’m a little sad to see it wasn’t successful.”
Things change. Life
isn’t as predictable as it seems at times. You can’t judge a book by how long
it took to write, you can’t judge it by first reactions. I’m not entirely sure
what you can judge it by, but it helps to remember things aren’t set in stone.
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