by Brian Keene

(Note: Regular readers of Storytellers Unplugged keep asking us for a “How To Make A Living Writing Full-Time” column. What they fail to understand is that there is no patented answer. Instead, I shall offer “How I Make A Living Writing Full-Time.” And yes, just to get it out of the way, there are many people who will tell you I’m wrong, and will tell you that I don’t know what I’m talking about. There really is no right or wrong way to go about it. What works for one person might not work for another. This is how I do it…)

You want to write full-time, do you?

You sad, silly bastard. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this? You do realize that people are making wonderful livings as plumbers, software engineers, HVAC technicians, and oil company C.E.O.’s?

Sigh. Okay, okay. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

To write full-time like me, you will need the following things:

1. A spouse or partner who is willing to continue working (if you do not have this, substitute a trust fund, wealthy benefactor, or windfall at Vegas).
2. Reliable health insurance.
3. The ability to work a minimum of five days a week, eight hours a day. (More will be helpful).
4. The clarity to separate art from profession and business from pleasure, because we are not having fun with a hobby—we are paying the fucking bills on time.
5. The ability to take honest criticism, because when you’re writing four books a year, not all of them are going to be your best work.

Now already, we have somebody in the back row, shouting, “Neil Gaiman creates art! Stephen King’s wife doesn’t work a day job! Danielle Steel only writes an hour a day!”

Yes, this is all true. But they are all residents of a plateau that I will probably never reach. They write books that are “lead titles.” I write books that are “midlist titles.”

Let’s visualize all the books a publishing company puts out in a month as a big, long list. At the top of the list are the lead titles; folks like Mr. Gaiman, Mr. King, and Ms. Steel. The lead titles are the moneymakers. They get the 90% of the promotional budget, 99.9% of the advertising, the largest print run, and the most editorial attention. As a result, the lead titles make money, just as they were expected to do.

Now, at the bottom of our big, long list is something called “the backlist”. These are books that have been reissued or reprinted. Everything from Mark Twain to H.P. Lovecraft to Zane Grey. These books first saw publication three months to ten years to a century ago. They went out of print, and are now back again.

Everything in the middle, the books between the “lead titles” and “the backlist” is the midlist. Learn the term now, because if you want to write mass-market horror novels (i.e. paperbacks that get their covers stripped off and returned when they don’t sell) and you want to write them for a living, chances are you will be a midlist writer.

Yes, one or two of you may be as good as Michael Marshall Smith or Chuck Palahniuk and may indeed get a six-figure advance and a metric fuck-ton of promotion and advertising dollars. But the cold, hard fact is that 98% of you will be automatically relegated to the midlist no matter how good your book is. This is called “market demand”. This is called business. This is called capitalism. This how the machine works—and there is nothing wrong with it, because the moment you decided you wanted to make a living writing full-time, you agreed to become a part of this machine.

Don’t run. Get the hell back here. I warned you and you didn’t want to listen. Well, it’s too late now. You will sit down and make a living writing, and what you are writing is product.

Here is what you need to know about being a midlist author. The advances are lower. The promotional budget is non-existent. The print run is smaller. And your story doesn’t matter as much. Why? Because the midlist is all about margins and slots.

Lets say Publisher Y produces 36 horror novels per year (three per month). That means they have 36 “slots.” Chances are that 12 of those slots will be taken up by backlist titles. Authors who are already in that publisher’s stable will take up another 12 to 20 slots. Then your manuscript hits their desk. It’s cohesive. Double-spaced. Competent. Publisher Y then does the math. If they print 10,000 copies of your novel, ship them out to grocery stores, drugstores, and bookstores, and think your book will sell 55% or higher of those 10,000 copies, you get one of those remaining, coveted slots—meaning, they buy your book.

Yayyyyy!

While you’re out partying and logging onto the message boards to tell the rest of the genre that Publisher Y bought your book, they are already moving on to the next slot.
That’s because they are conducting business. They are looking for product. The next manuscript might not be as brilliant as yours, but they’ll snatch it up, too, because they have slots to fill. Their business model is to maximize their profit by fulfilling a market niche—in this case, horror (though it could also be SF, romance, westerns, etc). Their average customer will buy these books on impulse while standing in line at the grocery store, and therefore, your skill as a writer doesn’t matter as much as whether or not they think they can sell 55% of those 10,000 copies.

Now understand, I’m not saying that you should just write a paint-by-numbers novel, where all you do is insert the character names. You should still try. You should still have fun. Your number one goal is—and should always be—to entertain your readers. That’s our job. That’s what we’re here for. But while you’re trying our best to write an entertaining read, you need to understand what your publisher’s job is, and what they are here for.

So…you’ve celebrated your big sale. You’re on your way to writing full-time, right?

You sad, silly bastard.

The average advance for a midlist novel, regardless of genre, in 2004 was between $2,000 and $5,000 dollars. That’s your paycheck. The year you spent working on that novel? The blood, sweat and tears you poured into it? The time you spent away from family and friends? It’s worth somewhere between $2,000 and $5,000.

You made more than that working in the call center, didn’t you?

And I bet the call center gave you health insurance.

Well, it gets worse. That check for $2,000. You’ll get it about two months after you’ve signed the contract. It will be a year later before your book even comes out. And it will be a year after that before you even begin to see any royalties–if, indeed, you earn royalties.

I really hope you didn’t tell that fat fucking foreman at the foundry to stick that grinder where the sun don’t shine because you’re on your way to being the next Stephen King. You did?

You sad, silly bastard.

Better fucking pray that your spouse kept their job.

Shhhh… Stop crying. It’s okay. Everything is cool. Uncle Brian’s gonna make things better.

Remember, the title of this rather longwinded essay on shock economics is called “How I Make A Living Writing Full-Time.”

Here’s how. I’m not saying it’s the right way. I’m not saying it’s the only way. I’m not saying that everybody else is wrong. I’m just saying this is what works for me.

The first step is becoming comfortable with what you are, while constantly striving to do better. I am a midlist writer. I choose to be, simply because of what I choose to write. If I wanted to, I could probably write a touching story about a mother and daughter reuniting on Thanksgiving Day, and sell it for six-figures and go on Oprah and The Today Show and make a shitload of money. But writing such a novel doesn’t appeal to me. I like writing about zombies and giant worms and yo-boys robbing banks and serial killers with homicidal pet tapeworms. However, I’m also realistic enough to know exactly where books of that type fall on the food chain. If Thomas Ligotti is a $200 meal at a five-star restaurant with a French-sounding name, then I am fucking White Castle.

And I’m cool with that. Doesn’t mean I can’t strive to do better, but I’m realistic with my expectations. I’m realistic with what the market will let me do. Terminal may very well be the best thing I’ve ever done, but at the end of the day, it’s still a midlist book.

When you become comfortable with your place in the machine, and you’re still striving to do better, a wonderful thing happens. That lady who bought your book on impulse at the local CVS while waiting in line to get her prescription filled? She enjoys it much more than the other two midlist horror novels she picked up that month, because even though you could have, you didn’t just phone it in. You tried to entertain them. Tried to tell a good story. Tried to give her what she wanted. Yes, even if the title of your book should have been Contractually Obligated Sequel, if you gave it an honest effort, and entertained your reader, she’ll enjoy it enough to remember your name. She’ll pick up the next one based on your name, or maybe even take five minutes to pop your name in Google. This is how you build a fan base; one reader at a time. And that fan base improves your margins. Instead of counting on you to sell 55%, Publisher Y knows you can deliver 60% or maybe even 65%. Publisher Y is then inclined to give you more money because you are good for business.

I’m not going to get into specifics, but let me break down an average year for you:

Advance on midlist novel to Publisher Y: $6,000
Advance on midlist novel to Publisher X: $3,500

That’s $9,500. How do I live off $9,500 a year?

I don’t. However, let’s say that last year’s midlist book sold 55% or better. I earned out my advance and can expect some royalties this quarter. So let’s add another $1,000 (give or take).

Now we’re at $10,500. I’d be making more if I was still working on the docks.

That’s where the small press and collectible market comes in. If you have a fan base that is willing to plunk down fifty bucks for a hardcover book that you’ve written your name in, you can do well in the small press. The small press has changed over the years. These days, reputable outfits like Cemetery Dance, Night Shade, and Delirium, often pay advances that are equal to, if not more than, the advance you’d get for your midlist paperback.

However, if you thought competition was tough for those midlist slots, it’s fucking Thunderdome competing for a small press slot. They key to successfully selling a small press title is, in fact, sales. You have to be able to sell out that print run, be it 250 or 500 or 1,500 copies. If you can do that time and time again, small press publishers will fall over themselves to sign you. Not trying to sound cocky or arrogant. Just telling you how the business works.

So, let’s take our $10,500 and put it on the table. Let’s add four small press publishers: A, B, C, and D. Publishers A and B buy the rights to do limited edition hardcovers of the two midlist paperbacks you just sold to Publishers Y and X.

$10,500 + $5,000 from Publisher A and $3,000 from Publisher B = $18,500.

Publisher C buys a novella from you and Publisher D is doing a collection of your short stories.

$18,500 + $2,500 from Publisher C and $3,500 from Publisher D = $24,500.

Not bad. If your partner or spouse is still working that day job, and you’re willing to do the house cleaning, cooking, laundry, etc.–you can probably get by on that and what they earn, right? But we should strive to do better. Thus, we increase our workload. Instead of writing five days a week, we go to seven. Instead of eight hours a day, we put in twelve. Is our work quality going to suffer as a result? Possibly. But remember, you told me your goal was to write full-time. So suck it up when the critics lambaste your next book, saying it was below par when compared to your usual work. With the extra hours, we can bang out two more novellas and sell them to two more small press publishers, netting us an additional $5,000, which puts us up to $29,500.

Add in some short story sales–that nets us another $300. We’re at $29,800. Sell the rights for one of your midlist paperbacks to a comic book publisher and maybe net another $3,000 = $32,800. Convince a small press publisher that a collection of your Blog entries will sell, and add another $2,500. A producer in Hollywood options it, and add another _____.

(See why it’s important to hold onto those rights, rather than signing them away just so you can sell the book?)

This is how I do it. The figure above are not exact because, in truth, I’m not comfortable with you knowing exactly how much I made last year. But they are pretty accurate, based on my experience.

The key, the way I see it, is just to keep writing and keep producing. I used to work in a foundry. My job was to make power steering gear molds all day long. If I wanted to get a paycheck, I had to make a minimum of 500 molds per day. I achieved that goal, and made sure my molds were good ones, so that quality control wouldn’t get on my ass. I apply the same rule to writing full-time. I write X amount of books per year to ensure I get a paycheck. I try my best to make sure they are good ones, so that quality control (the readers) doesn’t get on my ass.

I enjoy my job. I am very, very, very lucky. I get to stay home and make up stories about monsters and entertain people with the same things I like to be entertained with. I get to give something back to the genre that has given me so much. And I get paid for it. But I’m realistic. In order to earn that pay, I can’t get romantic about things. This isn’t a hobby. It’s not art. This is a business—and I approach it as such. If I don’t, I’ll be back in the foundry tomorrow.

A sad, silly bastard.

Hi. I’m Brian Keene, the White Castle of the horror genre. My burgers may not be duck almandine under glass, but they taste good and go down easy, and people buy them. My philosophy is simple. Call it the Tao of Keene, if you like.

I work on two books a day, one in the morning and one at night. On average, it takes me four months to write the first draft of a novel. For every novel I’m currently working on, I have two more contracted. If the time ever comes where I don’t have that two to one ratio, I will go get a regular job. (I won’t write the first sentence until I have a contract and an advance check, and neither should you. Why? If you spend four months on the book and the publisher goes bankrupt, you’re out four months of wages).

Writing full-time? That means that my income (along with my wife’s income) keeps the power on and the creditors off my back and allows us to buy groceries and clothing and go on vacation once a year.

And in the end, that’s all that matters. I’m happy. My wife’s happy. We do okay.

That’s how I write full-time.

Your mileage may vary.

PS: You asked to hear this. What else do you want to know about? I’m fresh out of topics and wouldn’t mind a little guidance from out regular readers. If you have a suggestion for a future topic, please take a moment to post it at the following LINK.

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This entry was posted on Sunday, November 20th, 2005 at 9:42 am.
Categories: Uncategorized.

25 Comments, Comment or Ping

  1. Paul Dracon

    5. The ability to take honest criticism, because when you’re writing four books a year, not all of them are going to be your best work.
    * * *
    …unless a critic calls you ‘KeeneBean,’ in which case vengence demands retribution! Otherwise a fine essay. Brings to mind all of those Beastie Boys White Castle references.

    Nov 20th, 2005

  2. Terese Pampellonne

    Hi Brian.

    I really appreciated the honesty of your essay. Not all of us can be Nicole Richie whose first novel gets a write-up in The New York Times!

    Terese

    Nov 20th, 2005

  3. Seth

    Nice. Reminded me a lot of Richard Laymon’s A Writer’s Tale in terms of adding everything up and talking about ‘the other side’ of writing.

    -sml

    Nov 20th, 2005

  4. Janet Berliner

    Good advice and interesting arithmetic. Perhaps a little too encouraging. Being loved by the small presses isn’t something that can be controlled. Is it? Now tell us, do, please, how you manage the following: “I won’t write the first sentence until I have a contract and an advance check, and neither should you.” Saying you have The Power won’t count. –Janet

    Nov 20th, 2005

  5. Teresa

    I enjoyed that Brian. There is so much pie-in-the-sky, ‘if-you-write it,-it-will-sell, just-keep-trying pep talking everywhere aspiring writers gather that seeing a few $$ once in a while keeps thngs in perspective.

    It must be nice to be mid-list as opposed to beginner. You at least get to expect a contract and that advance before you write word one.

    I supppose the real slog is to get to that point with your sanity and ego and life still intact.

    Nov 20th, 2005

  6. James A. Moore

    Well said, Brian. I love the job, but the pay can suck and the hours…Dear Lord, the hours.
    Mind you, I’ve also kept a full time job…mostly for the insurance.

    Jim Moore

    Nov 21st, 2005

  7. David Niall Wilson

    Interesting…and not far off my own take on things at this point, except I still have very high aspirations along the way, I still have the day job (lol) AND I write all the time contract or advance be damned…I think you have to believe that if you write a good book, it will sell eventually. If, of course, you get a signed contract along the way, or an advance, you drop what you’re doing and write the one that pays…

    DNW

    Nov 21st, 2005

  8. Cristian Marrero

    Interesting entry and well respected.
    Brian, i have been looking at a few of your books. Can i buy them directly from you. I wish to have them personally inscribed to me as well as signed.
    Please let me know.

    Nov 21st, 2005

  9. jeff resnick

    Wow, nice essay! Not sure whether to laugh, cry or run for the hills like a madman!! I’m a fan of your work and if you continue doing what you’re doing…the “A list” will be there for ya! Is there something in between the midlist and A list? I’m not retarded enough to think I can have lunch with Mr. King or Koontz or Gaiman, but there has to be something bigger and better…right? Douglas Clegg or F. Paul Wilson can’t be considered midlist, can they?

    Nov 21st, 2005

  10. Steve Vernon

    Man, I always enjoy reading one of your essays.

    I’ve got a day job, and over the last year I’ve slowly turned my story here and there career into a reasonably steady income of two hundred bucks a month. That’s light years away from what you’ve done. Keep it up you sad mad bastard.

    I’m glad that you insist on using the term “midlist” writer, even though dozens of learned critics insist the midlist is dead. You’re telling the truth in the face of pedantics. Well done.

    From all of us “day job” writers who still believe in the dream - thanks Brian! Great essay.

    Nov 21st, 2005

  11. David Niall Wilson

    STeve, the midlist that is “dead” is those authors who used to crank them out and still get 40-100k advances. That was 80s, early 90s..some of them were living very well, then the bottom fell out.

    The midlist has dropped, in other words.

    DNW

    Nov 21st, 2005

  12. Sephera

    Yep, some of us are in the “new” midlist…it’s so sad. I used to dream of the days I went from newbie to midlist. Now it just means you don’t autimatically get thrown in the slush…sigh…

    And yes, I’m sure Brian dreams of the day, as I do, where we can afford to write ONE book in a year and do a damn fine job!

    Nov 21st, 2005

  13. Bob Smith

    So, Brian’s main piece of advise seem’s to be; build up a fanbase and then exploit the hell out of them by publishing stuff they want to read only in expensive small press editions. Nice.

    Nov 22nd, 2005

  14. David Niall Wilson

    Bob, if someone wants to pay fifty dollars for a collectible edition of a book that is going to come out in paperback down the line, that’s hardly exploiting them.

    Though … asking if you can use their name to promote an anthology and then holding their story several months before rejecting it anyway…that’s sort of exploitative…

    Sort of like in the old days, mellow is the best road.

    DNW

    Nov 22nd, 2005

  15. Brian Keene

    Thanks everyone. I appreciate it. As I said, there is no right or wrong way. This is just one way of doing it.

    Janet: Sadly, you’re right. Being loved by the small presses isn’t something that can be controlled—at least at first. However, if you build a good, solid working relationship with one, they can carry you through. Examples of this would be Tim Lebbon and Night Shade, Joe Lansdale and Subterranean, myself and Delirium, etc. And you’re right, say “I have the Power” doesn’t count. Perhaps I should rephrase, and suggest “Write the first three chapters and a synopsis and then try to get a contract and an advance check based on those”? I dunno. You’ve given me food for thought, and perhaps the topic for another essay. :)

    Teresa said: “I supppose the real slog is to get to that point with your sanity and ego and life still intact.”

    Exactly. And that’s why, even though it is no longer a hobby at that point, it should still be fun. Doesn’t have to be fun 24 hours a day (and trust me, it won’t be). But you should still enjoy it over any other occupation.

    Jim: I thought you kept that job to feed the ducks? ;) heh heh

    Cristian: While I don’t sell books through the mail, I am happy to sign and personalize them for free. Go here for details:

    http://p201.ezboard.com/fbriankeenesmessageboardmadnessfrm51.showMessage?topicID=2.topic

    Jeff: Very good question. I’d say Paul is certainly a lead author (at least, with the Repairman Jack series), and with his recent successes, Doug has as well. Two of the nicest guys in the business, and they both deserve it.

    Steve: Two hundred a month isn’t bad at all. It’s a start and it’s something to build on. And that’s how you do it.

    Bob Smith: I have to assume that you’re simply here to behave as a troll. If you really are sincere in your statement, then you display a shockingly naive understanding of the small press, and a reading comprehension ability several notches lower than a pinecone.

    Yep, small presses do nothing but exploit their customers. It’s a massive conspiracy and we’d hoped nobody would figure it out, but you’re too smart for us. Everybody was in on it; Stephen King, Poppy Z. Brite, Edward Lee, Tim Lebbon, Gary Braunbeck, even lil’ old me. But you’re on to us. Goody for you! We’ll have to come up with a new scam.

    Now, unless you’d like to contribute something valuable to the discussion, feel free to blow me…

    Nov 22nd, 2005

  16. Bob Smith

    “…a fan base that is willing to plunk down fifty bucks for a hardcover book that you’ve written your name in…”

    “Convince a small press publisher that a collection of your Blog entries will sell.”

    It’s not a problem with the small press itself, but rather your apparent disdain for it and your fans. The very nature of a fan is one that wants to collect everything by their favorite author.

    Your first quote implies that you can sell an expensive book to your fans by merely signing them, even if they already have an inexpensive edition. No, you’re not holdng a gun to their head, but as I said, a true fan is going to want that book. (And, of course, there’s the implication that the only worthwhile aspect of a small press book is your signature.)

    The second quote implies that you can sell your fanbase any old stuff you have lying around, and, indeed, that the small press would be willing to publish it.

    Your essay seems to imply that to make a living as an author, you have to wring every cent out of your fanbase, and the small press provides the perfect medium to do it.

    Maybe you don’t see this as exploitation. I do.

    Nov 22nd, 2005

  17. Brian Keene

    BOB whined: “It’s not a problem with the small press itself, but rather your apparent disdain for it and your fans.”

    That horribly assumptive statement shows that not only do you not know the first thing about me, but that you haven’t even done basic research.

    BOB whined: “Your first quote implies that you can sell an expensive book to your fans by merely signing them, even if they already have an inexpensive edition.”

    Welcome to the small press, a business that caters primarily to collectors, who are very happy and willing to do just what you stated above. They’ve been doing it since the 1800’s and they’ll do it long after you’re gone “Bob”. The publisher doesn’t have a problem with it. The author doesn’t have a problem with it. The readers/collectors don’t have a problem with it. The only person that has a problem with it is you.

    Why is that, I wonder?

    And for the record, my signature is worth a postage stamp, and nothing more. I sign books for free through the mail. Have done so for many years now. Have never balked at signing one. And I don’t charge for that. I do it for free. How horribly exploitive of me…

    BOB whined: “No, you’re not holdng a gun to their head, but as I said, a true fan is going to want that book.”

    And your problem with that is what, exactly? I write a book that I can’t sell mass-market. I sell it via a small press publisher instead. People pay money for it. They are happy. I am happy. The publisher is happy.

    You’re argument is about as clear as George W. Bush reading Shakespeare.

    BOB whined: (And, of course, there’s the implication that the only worthwhile aspect of a small press book is your signature.)

    Again, your lack of basic knowledge is staggering. The small press provides an outlet, not only for signed collectibles, but for novellas, short story collections, and other things that are much tougher to sell to the mass-market. Should these projects sit in a desk drawer, rather than being published, simply because “Bob” doesn’t feel it’s right?

    BOB whined: The second quote implies that you can sell your fanbase any old stuff you have lying around, and, indeed, that the small press would be willing to publish it.

    No. It is a reference to Sympathy For The Devil and Running With the Devil, two collections of my Blog essays which sold very, very well, won an award, and pleased many, many fans. Both were available as expensive, limited edition hardcovers (we did that just so you’d have something to whine about) and inexpensive trade paperbacks (just for you, “Bob.”)

    BOB whined: Your essay seems to imply that to make a living as an author, you have to wring every cent out of your fanbase, and the small press provides the perfect medium to do it.

    And your commentary seems to imply that you have no argument, have yet to raise a valid point, and have come here only to pontificate with your thumb up your ass. If you were TRULY concerned about that, and had spent five minutes on my message board or elsewhere, you’d realize just how mistaken you were. Tell me, did you ask some of my readers if they felt I’d taken advantage of them? Did you ask my publishers if they’d buy any old thing I foisted on them? Did you write to any of the other 5,298 authors I can name off the top of my head who do the exact same thing and question their integrity?

    No, because you were too busy masturbating here.

    Because you have some cyber-axe to grind.

    I don’t mind you disagreeing. I don’t mind you saying I’m wrong. But DO NOT EVER tell me I’m taking advantage of my readers. And if you insist on doing so, at least have the courage to use your real name, “Bob.”

    Now feel free to comment to your heart’s content, but don’t expect further response. I am far too busy to inflate your poor sense of self worth by engaging you any further. Thanks for coming to Storytellers Unplugged, and please do come back next month so that I can taunt you some more.

    Nov 22nd, 2005

  18. David Niall Wilson

    One amusing point is that Bob used to make his living selling over-priced comic books and collectibles to fans…ironic, huh?

    I don’t know what the particular axe being ground is, but I’d like to personally thank Bob for bringing the first hugely negative commentary to this board since we disabled anonymous posts.

    DNW

    Nov 22nd, 2005

  19. Steven Lloyd

    Normally I stay away from flame wars, but not this time. I’m sick to death of the Bobby’s, the little Nikky’s, and any other wanna be never were, as Brian says, that think its cool to jump on the pain train. I’m not only a writer but a Keene fan and friend. I applaud his efforts as a writer and as a person. I’ve never been cheated by Brian nor has his fans. Know what I am, Bob? Thankful! Thankful for Brian taking the time to sit down every morning and punch out 5,000 words for ME. I’m thankful that he decided to hang with his fans and friends at Hypericon back in June. The guy was so fucking tired I thought he was going to pass out cold. But he didn’t. Why? Because he gave a shit that his friends and fans showed up to see him.

    And you have a right to your opinion, but to say I’ve been taken advantage of? Brian, like a few other writers I know, was born to write. You can be taught, but it’s something special when you’re born for it. It runs deeper than flesh, deeper than the organs that hold your being intact. It breathes with a life in which you will never capture, Bob. That’s power. And just so you know, Bobby, the pain train doesn’t have any stops. It’s full tilt boggy, baby!

    Nov 23rd, 2005

  20. Bob Smith

    My apologies, clearly I am wrong.

    Nov 23rd, 2005

  21. Blu

    Bob, as one of those fans who has paid $50 (or more) for a small press book by an author whose work I enjoy, let me assure you that I did so without having Brian Keene, Stephen King, Tim Lebbon, Kealan Patrick Burke or anyone else stand next to me with a gun to my head forcing me to do so. It’s a little thing called “free will,” and I exercise it regularly (that’s the only thing I exercise regularly, but I digress….)

    I always get a chuckle when someone says the fans are being exploited - in the end, we all have the ability to take out our wallets or to leave them in our pockets. Rest assured, if Keene ever offers a signed, limited edition copy of his grocery list through Delirium, I’ll choose not to buy it and life will go on. But if he offers up something else the quality of “Terminal” and I can afford it, I’m snapping that bad boy up - because I want to, not because he told me to.

    Besides, as a writer who hopes to have people buying small press editions of his own books some day, I need these guys to keep the market alive until I arrive!

    Blu

    Nov 23rd, 2005

  22. JA Konrath

    Good essay, Brian.

    There are some other ways to make a living, as well.

    Teach writing and at a community college or Park District.

    Selling articles to writing magazines, and judging their contests.

    Speak at libraries. For two hours of time they pay between $100 and $400. Broadcast your availablility as a speaker, hook-up with other local writers and trade contacts, and you can do two or three libraries a month.

    Stick within your genre, but call it ‘techno-thriller’ rather than ‘dark ficiton.’ Jim Rollins, Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child, Paul Wilson, and many others write about monsters, but do so with mainstream hooks.

    Change your agent. Staying with someone who is content with getting you 6k advances won’t help your career. Shop around for someone with more enthusiasm.

    Sell other stuff. I know a writer who is making a ton selling t-shirts, baseball caps, and underwear on his website, all based on his books.

    JA
    http://www.jakonrath.blogspot.com

    Nov 23rd, 2005

  23. Paul Dracon

    Hey Bob– isn’t it too bad Brian can’t be sued for literary negligence?

    Nov 24th, 2005

  24. Scott Nicholson

    Nice essay. But the economics are even worse–I know you don’t use an agent, Brian, but lop off 15 percent for that. And writers are taxed as self-employed people, so there goes another 35 percent or so. And if you spend any of your own money for conventions or promotion, that’s more off the top. In other words, you might have to actually gross twice as much as you need to survive.

    If I didn’t have a kid, I’d say to hell with health insurance and go for it anyway.

    Nov 28th, 2005

  25. A.P. Fuchs

    Thank you for the insightful post, Brian. Keep ‘em coming.

    Feb 12th, 2006

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