The Business of Being an Author

It’s hard to believe now that, just over a year ago, I was a largely unknown writer. I had a small but loyal following, here and within my friends group. But I wasn’t well known beyond that. I’d toiled in obscurity for years, and by late September of last year I’d spent roughly a year working tirelessly to break through. To be published. To be known.

That all changed in the blink of an eye. I won a major international writing contest less than two weeks before my second professional sale (the contest ended in my first). Now, one year on, I’m a published author. My name has been heard, my face seen, by science fiction readers across the world. I’ve had podcast interviews and book signings. I made the front page of my hometown newspaper.

And it feels good. All of it. But it also means that I’ve reached the point where there’s no going back. Not anymore. Not ever. And honestly, at times I miss my days of blissful anonymity.

Because with being known comes pressure. The pressure to keep creating. To keep publishing. To keep showing my face to the world, broadcasting my words. And to aspiring writers reading this, I know it sounds cheeky, but this whole writing gig was a lot easier before anybody really cared about what I was doing.

The Pressure to Produce

Before I got published, I didn’t really sweat it if I missed one of my weekly or monthly posts. At most I might include a brief, “Sorry” with my subsequent post. My web traffic was minimal. It was easy to think that, really, nobody cared if I said I was going to post something on a particular day and just didn’t.

Over years of lackadaisical, on-and-off writing, I didn’t worry too much if I went radio silent for weeks, even months. Because it was easy to believe that no one really cared. At worst, maybe one or two people who’d grown accustomed to my regular posts would think, Huh. Wonder what happened to that guy? Oh well.

Since winning Writers of the Future, however, I’ve seen my regular traffic skyrocket. Suddenly, people are likely to care if I just disappear online for even a week or so. If I miss just one post.

This hasn’t just made platform maintenance more work; it’s also cramped my style in writing overall. I used to slack off on my regular posts whenever I was going through a period of focused writing, like when I was working on a novel. I wanted to keep my creative energies focused where they were needed most. Stories could potentially make money, blog posts would not. So when push came to shove, it was easy to decided what needed to go.

Now that I’m a published author, I’ve begun devoting one or two weeks at a time every few months to platform work. Days of work just hammering out posts to schedule months in advance. Over the past week and change I’ve written and scheduled all my regular Substack posts for the next two months. All so I can work on my novel without having to keep writing posts.

The Pressure to Publish

When you get that first publishing credit, it feels amazing. For one brief, beautiful moment, you sit back and think, I did it. But then you realize that, now that you’ve done it, to really make it in the writing business you need to do it again. And again, and again, and again.

I often liken the practice of building a writing career to an endless cycle in which you climb a mountain just to see the next peak towering overhead. You’ve reached a milestone, sure. But the greatest accomplishment in that is being able to see the next milestone you must reach.

That really hit home for me this past summer when my second published story hit the shelves in the July/August issue of Analog. When readers took to social media to commend my story, there was a brief flash of elation. I’d appeared in a major science fiction journal. People were reading my work, and talking about it.

But after the moment past, I felt an unexpected wave of anxiety. For the first time since last October, I didn’t have anything slated to be published.

Since then, I’ve sold another story, this time to Asimov’s. And it feels wonderful to know I once again have an upcoming publication. But that anxiety over the summer is still fresh in my mind. To maintain momentum in my writing career, I now feel I should publish at least one story per year. I’ve met that quota for next year, but two would be nice. Or three. Or more.

And I’m still querying my first novel. If I can publish that, that will bump me up even further. But there will still need to be a next novel. A next publication. The next thing.

The Pressure to Excel

If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed through all this, it’s that I’m still my own biggest critic. I always want each story I write to be better than the last. And that was a lot easier to do before any of my work had actually been published.

Before you publish your first story, it’s not hard to finish each story and think, This is it. This is the best I’ve done so far. But the moment someone has actually paid you for your work, that piece towers above all the others. This one made it. I know it’s good, because somebody in the literary industry said so.

Having publishing credits to my name makes it harder and harder to compete against my own expectations. I sell a story, and think, Okay, now the next one has to be better than that. And that way lies the path to madness.

The truth is, I’m an extremely competitive person. I like to think in my personal life, and my professional life as an author now, I come across as kind, humble, and supportive. But beneath all that a monster seethes. That monster doesn’t just want to be a good writer, or even a great one. He wants to be the best. Mountains of publishing credits, shelves overflowing with awards, book deals and options. And for someone like that, a taste of success only whets the appetite for more.

A Note (and Warning) to Aspiring Writers

All of this leads me to a message to any writers reading this who are still seeking that elusive first publishing credit:

I know that your first professional sale feels like a finish line. And it is. But there will be more finish lines. Your name won’t stay on everyone’s lips by itself. Not without your help. You’d be amazed at how quickly your story will be lost in the churn of the literary industry.

I’m the current reigning Golden Pen winner in Writers of the Future, but only until next spring. Then, the contest will crown another champion, and I will become part of its history. The former winner. Yesterday’s news.

From here on, the course of my writing career is left entirely to me. I must work tirelessly to stay where I am, and even harder to advance beyond that. I know I can do it. And I firmly believe that I will. But I know that the work will never stop. To be fair, I asked for this. Since I first began writing, I believed this day would come. Now that it has, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. – MK