To my mind, some of the smartest observations about failure and writing appeared in a New York Times essay by Stephen Marche. Here’s just a sampling of them:
A paradox defines writing: The public sees writers mainly in their victories but their lives are spent mostly in defeat. I suppose that’s why, in the rare moments of triumph, writers always look a little out of place — posing in magazine profiles in their half-considered outfits with their last-minute hair; desperately re-upping their most positive reviews on Instagram; or, at the ceremonies for writing prizes — the Oscars for lumpy people — grinning like recently released prisoners readjusting to society.
The dominant narrative at the moment is that failure leads to success. The internet loves this arc: low then high; first perseverance, then making it; all struggle redeemed; the more struggle the more redemption. I hate those stories.
I’m no fan of such stories either, because they don’t reflect my own experience as a writer. For me, there are no redemptive arcs in any part of getting novels written, in getting them accepted for publication, and in doing what I can to garner interest in them once they’ve been released (all of which I discuss in more detail below). At every one of these stages, I expect failure and am rarely disappointed. And when I do achieve success, I never see it as just another step in an uninterrupted ascent.
But please don’t take these observations as complaints. I’ve come to understand failure as part of the long game that writing–and getting published–has always been to me. Like publishers’ rejections of my writing, a topic I cover in another essay, it has become a kind of dark companion (shadow?)—something I know I must live with as long as I write. Not so bad, considering the far worse things I could be forced to live with. And every now and then, failure delivers me to more promising territory with my writing. (More on that next.)
Failures in Getting Books Written
At the writing stage, I tend to experience two types of failures: day-to-day misfires and frustrations and “Oh, god, what the hell am I doing?” crises.
Typical day-to-day failures include an inability to focus as much as I’d like to on a work-in-progress, brief spells of writer’s block, and realizations that certain sentences, passages, or chapters just aren’t working and need to be revised or ditched. Generally, these problems resolve in relatively short order, usually thanks to simple perseverance or in some cases, a good night’s sleep.
The “Oh, god, what the hell am I doing?” failures are far larger in scale and have an existential weight to them. One of the biggest failures of this type was the first novel I attempted to write but never finished. I can’t remember how many years I worked on the book–three? five?–but 300-some pages into it, I realized that what I’d imagined to be a novel was really an assortment of character sketches and scenes that although related, didn’t have a deeper connection, much less the drive and forward momentum of a novel. (I came to these realizations thanks to feedback from beta readers, whom I discuss in this essay.) At the time, I believed I’d devoted years of my life to a fruitless endeavour, but looking back on this failure, I think of the many things it taught me about what novel-length storytelling requires, lessons I’ve applied ever since.
My most recent “Oh, god, what the hell am I doing?” crisis arose just a few weeks ago, when after three months of working on a new novel, I realized that my heart wasn’t fully with the story and main character, and that this was a terminal condition: Nothing could be gained by devoting more hours to the project, for which I’d already felt a creeping sense of dissatisfaction.
But shortly after ditching this novel-in-progress, I got some ideas for a character and situation that I feel much more connected to. I also got a strong sense of the place where the story needs to unfold. I’ve been writing about this character, situation, and place for a couple of weeks now, and I’m feeling much more driven to work on this project compared with the previous one. No doubt, I will confront unforeseen failures as I forge ahead with this might-be-a-novel, but I’m hoping they’ll be things I can work through. Only time will tell.
Failures in Getting Books Accepted for Publication
When novelists query literary agents and publishers about their manuscripts, rejection is pretty much built into the process. Under rare circumstances, agents or publishers may specify why they rejected a manuscript, and sometimes, they may make a “revise and resubmit” offer. These circumstances can provide writers with opportunities to improve a manuscript and perhaps increase its chances of being accepted. But usually, writers get form rejections offering no real insight into why the recipient took a pass on the submission. (In more and more cases, they get no response at all to their queries.)
When searching for publishers for my novels, I prepare myself for rejection from the start. Whenever I submit a manuscript to a publisher, I try to have several other carefully vetted prospects in the queue. If/when the submission is rejected, I immediately send the manuscript to at least one new prospect. This approach gives me a greater sense of agency and also a feeling of forward momentum, which can take some of the sting out of rejections.
Of course, writers may eventually run out of submission prospects, meaning that the manuscript must be shelved, perhaps with the idea of revising it later. This has happened with several short stories I’ve written and with one novel.
Failures in Getting Attention for Published Books
Competition for readers’ attention is fierce. Consider that conservatively, an estimated 1 billion books (both print and e-books) are sold in the United States each year. But at the same time, it seems that fewer people are reading for entertainment. As reported by the New York Times and other media outlets, researchers examining data from 2003 to 2023 found that the share of U.S. citizens who reported reading for pleasure on a given day fell to 16 percent in 2023 from a high of 28 percent in 2004, a decrease of about 40 percent. The reason for this drop is not fully clear, but one major factor seems to be that other forms of entertainment (such as social media, videos, and streamed content) have significantly increased the competition for people’s attention.
Given these developments, many writers (including me) face long odds in garnering interest for their books. And, ideally, interest translates into sales. In the past, a major way to generate interest in a book was to get it reviewed in traditional media outlets, such as magazines and newspapers, but many of these outlets no longer review books. Thus, authors (and also publishers and book publicists) are increasingly reaching out to book bloggers on Substack and other channels, book-related podcasts and YouTube channels, TikTok/BookTok influencers, and influencers on other social media platforms. It’s a highly fragmented landscape, and it’s difficult–if not impossible–to figure out how to make the best use of it, especially if one has limited time and resources, as is the case with most authors.
Often, authors also seek reviews from trade publications, such as Booklist, Kirkus, Library Journal, and Publishers Weekly. These publications are widely respected by booksellers and librarians, who turn to them when deciding which books to stock on their shelves. Yet these outlets can review only a limited number of books, and the odds that they’ll take on any given title can be long, something I’ve come to know through personal experience.
Reviews are just part of any publicity campaign, and authors also generate interest for their books by giving readings or talks, or by writing articles connected to the book’s content, to name just a couple of other approaches. Understanding that I can’t undertake every possible publicity effort, my personal strategy has been to focus on my interests and strengths, such as writing book-related articles and taking part in various podcasts, while outsourcing other elements of publicity campaigns. For example, instead of reaching out to book bloggers and BookTokkers myself, I’ve contracted with services that have handled these tasks for me.
So Why Keep Writing?
If so much failure is built into the writing (and trying-to-get-published) life, why pursue it? In my case, fiction writing has been such an integral part of my life for so long that I can’t imagine giving up on it, unless at some point, it gives up on me. Entering characters’ lives and worlds is one of the most gratifying things I do, and those “in the flow” moments of writing can feel transcendent to me. At times, they’re perhaps the closest thing to a religious experience that I’ll ever have. And so I persist.
One last thing: A new novel of mine, The Time of Reaping, has been accepted by a publisher and is scheduled to be released in fall 2027. For more details, keep an eye on this website or subscribe to my newsletter.
