Sometimes me thinks we do protest too much ... particularly about the element of "success" as referred to in Christian writing, specifically in fiction.
We novelists in the Christian publishing market tend to measure our work (and even ourselves) by very stern standards indeed. In spite of the fact that we're compelled to achieve a certain measure of success in order to keep publishing (not too many publishers are interested in books that don't sell at least a modest number of copies), we try our best not to write with the goal of success in mind.
It does indeed reflect poorly on a writer in the Christian publishing marketplace--or, for that matter, the writer with a Christian worldview in the general publishing marketplace--to focus on the materialistic and commercial aspects of writing and publishing. Far more acceptable is the striving for literary excellence, purity of message, sound doctrine, and rock solid theology. True or false: it's better to offer our readers a carefully constructed, if somewhat "dry," novel emblazoned with doctrinal truths and theological tenets than a fast-flowing page-turner from a heart and imagination committed to Christ, but with a movement that's more story than sermon?
There seems a certain amount of hesitancy to discuss--at least outside the circle of close friends and perhaps one's editor--the nitty gritty need for moderate or significant success in publishing. I'm referring to sales figures and reader demand. It's more "acceptable" to couch references to the business side of art--and we hope that's what the writing of fiction is: an art, albeit one requiring skill and craft and experience, combined with a fair share of common sense and professional acumen--in phrases that highlight ministry and humility and outreach.
Before you even begin to misunderstand me, let me say that I wholeheartedly believe in and endorse ministry and humility and outreach, and if my motives for writing had much at all to do with pursuing success, I would have long ago given up the rocky road of publishing for a real job. Be assured that I do believe in the purity of our "message--" though I question whether fiction is the place for "message--" and I would hope that our theology is sound and never misleading. That's important, because even though the fiction writer had best not be writing theology, if our own doctrinal base and faith walk aren't what they should be, it will eventually bleed out into our novels, and that's not what we want to offer our readers.
That said, let me also add that I think it's quite possibly the biggest mistake a new or aspiring writer can make to believe that becoming a published author will bring recognition and riches. (The word "fantasy" comes to mind.) Whether we like to admit it or not, publishing is a challenging, difficult, competitive, downright grueling arena in which to play--it's not for the fainthearted and definitely not for those with delusions of pie in the sky. If you have to make a living, check the classifieds before taking up the writing of fiction.
But--along with art and ministry, most writers do need to be concerned with the admittedly elusive element of success. Publishers will not give us a free ride. They may, if they believe in our gift and our potential enough, do what they can to gain sales success for our books ... but only for so long. They're not in the business of delivering handouts or bestowing grants. They're in the business of staying afloat and even making a profit.
That being the case, it's no cause for embarrassment or uneasiness to admit the need for some measure of success. And along that same line, it's a scandal to even think, much less openly hint, that the most "successful" authors in the business have "sold out," that their work is somehow substandard just because they're selling lots of books. Be realistic enough and gracious enough to concede that poor sales aren't necessarily a measure of quality or excellence.
Does this happen? You bet it does. Too often there's an implied question about the quality of a mega-seller's work, while almost in the same breath a writer with low sales is esteemed for "pursuing excellence." I've been a part of the publishing industry for over twenty-five years and have friends who fit both sides of the success story, and I can tell you that only the very inexperienced--or naive--would attempt to value the quality of an author's work based on his or her sales success. Or lack thereof.
It seems to me that we're doing our new and younger writers a real disservice if we aren't willing to speak sanely and openly about writing being a business as well as an art. We can help instead of hinder by giving both areas the necessary attention without pretending that each isn't essential to publishing our fiction.
Instead of hiding the realities behind the hedges, it's perfectly all right to be candid--within reason--and truthful in the way we approach all elements of the publishing process.
A writer-friend and I were discussing this subject the other day, and we both concluded that the healthy first step in doing away with the perceived conflict between the art and business side of writing would seem to be the recognition that genuine professionalism needs to include a balanced mix of both.
BJ
