A Ghost of a Chance
When THE THING IN YELLOW comes out at the end of this month (heh, 20 days from now!) that'll be my last indie horror book. As I mentioned the other week, I've contributed plenty of books to indie horror at this point, and I'm proud of them all.
But I'll be segueing toward other genres -- things that might be horror-adjacent (think paranormal thrillers, outright thrillers, science fiction, fantasy, etc.)
And I'm also willfully targeting trad, even though I understand that as a progressive, middle-aged white man, I may not be what trad publishers are looking for in "new" writers.
Further, I'm not a new writer -- maybe that'll adversely impact my chances as well, who knows? As a punk (even a punk fogey), I view trad with such a gimlet eye. I can't help myself.
All I know is that I love to write and live to write, and that I continue to create new work that needs a home, and indie is an ever-more overcrowded kiddie pool packed tight with hacks, wannabes, also-rans, tourists, amateurs, charlatans, hucksters, one-book wonders, bounders, narcissists, and even a few legitimately good writers.
Sorry if that's triggering for you, Gentle Reader; my response in the realm of writing is what it's always been: "Do better, try harder." There are plenty of shit writers out there (trad and indie) who have "made it" (whatever that even means these days is anybody's guess; I wouldn't know because I sure haven't made it), and there are tons of great writers who wallow in undeserved obscurity. The successful shit writers, however, have largely conned their way to a win, but, perhaps more importantly, they've somehow found their audience -- readers who seemingly like their shit writing.
Oh, and in case you think I'm putting myself in the camp of the great undiscovered writers out of sheer writerly arrogance, I'm not. I constantly ask myself "Am I a shit writer? Am I actually no good? Why can't I find my audience? Why haven't I found my audience?" and I always try to improve my work and do better as a writer. I've been doing that for decades, that cycle of self-assessment and hard critiquing of one's work that's necessary for any sort of artistic improvement.
Whether good or bad, all that truly matters for a writer is finding their audience. That's what makes or breaks a writer as a known entity. I mean, those of us who're really deep in it write no matter what -- it becomes an irreducible part of who and what we are. But if the desire is to make any kind of cultural impact as an artist, it means finding an audience.
The hard fact is that there are simply fewer readers out there than in the past, and they have a ton of choices. Finding audience is far harder than ever, and tracking down people who'll honestly read one's work (versus pretending to read it or skim it) is harder, still.
And the indie market in particular is choked with so much clutter, so even that niche of readers who might be interested in one's work has an embarrassment of riches (and/or a pile of junk) to choose from. It makes finding an audience a titanic lift.
My indie horror work is well-received when people manage to stumble onto it, but I've absolutely failed to build enough of an audience for it. Is it me? Is it the work? Is it the environment? Is it all of the above? Who knows?
I do know that the NetGalley reviews of my latest novel were very solid -- even people who didn't truly love the work managed to praise it, which is heartening. It was nice to see that out of the indie horror foxhole I've been occupying since 2011. Strangers liked my book, and that's something.
I believe/think that my work can reach a wider audience and my approach to storytelling can draw readers. I just need to find them. And that's why I'm wrapping up with indie horror and moving on to other arenas, in hopes of eventually finding my audience.
I'll admit that being 52 years old influences my decision in that. I know full well the difference between surveying the literary landscape and taking stock at 22, 32, and 42 -- because I did that. There's a difference in those decades, and at 52, I recognize that the fuse is well-lit on my mortality, and the years I have left to me are far fewer than if I were a younger writer.
I'm happy with my indie horror work -- I think all of those books were as strong as I could make them as the writer that I was at the time I wrote them. But I want far more than just the satisfaction of having accomplished those writerly objectives.
And it makes me sad that those books never found their audience -- they're like ghosts to me, now, gazing forlornly at me from the luminous shadows of their own near-oblivion, with an ample measure of reproach for me, their creator, for having brought them into existence at all in such a desolate place as the feckless barrows of indie horror. All I can tell those works is that I tried, and they tell me, in turn, in a Greek chorus of banshee-like wailing:
"Do better! Try harder!"
That keening drives me to chase down the audience I need, and to write the work that readers actually want to read.
But I'll be segueing toward other genres -- things that might be horror-adjacent (think paranormal thrillers, outright thrillers, science fiction, fantasy, etc.)
And I'm also willfully targeting trad, even though I understand that as a progressive, middle-aged white man, I may not be what trad publishers are looking for in "new" writers.
Further, I'm not a new writer -- maybe that'll adversely impact my chances as well, who knows? As a punk (even a punk fogey), I view trad with such a gimlet eye. I can't help myself.
All I know is that I love to write and live to write, and that I continue to create new work that needs a home, and indie is an ever-more overcrowded kiddie pool packed tight with hacks, wannabes, also-rans, tourists, amateurs, charlatans, hucksters, one-book wonders, bounders, narcissists, and even a few legitimately good writers.
Sorry if that's triggering for you, Gentle Reader; my response in the realm of writing is what it's always been: "Do better, try harder." There are plenty of shit writers out there (trad and indie) who have "made it" (whatever that even means these days is anybody's guess; I wouldn't know because I sure haven't made it), and there are tons of great writers who wallow in undeserved obscurity. The successful shit writers, however, have largely conned their way to a win, but, perhaps more importantly, they've somehow found their audience -- readers who seemingly like their shit writing.
Oh, and in case you think I'm putting myself in the camp of the great undiscovered writers out of sheer writerly arrogance, I'm not. I constantly ask myself "Am I a shit writer? Am I actually no good? Why can't I find my audience? Why haven't I found my audience?" and I always try to improve my work and do better as a writer. I've been doing that for decades, that cycle of self-assessment and hard critiquing of one's work that's necessary for any sort of artistic improvement.
Whether good or bad, all that truly matters for a writer is finding their audience. That's what makes or breaks a writer as a known entity. I mean, those of us who're really deep in it write no matter what -- it becomes an irreducible part of who and what we are. But if the desire is to make any kind of cultural impact as an artist, it means finding an audience.
The hard fact is that there are simply fewer readers out there than in the past, and they have a ton of choices. Finding audience is far harder than ever, and tracking down people who'll honestly read one's work (versus pretending to read it or skim it) is harder, still.
And the indie market in particular is choked with so much clutter, so even that niche of readers who might be interested in one's work has an embarrassment of riches (and/or a pile of junk) to choose from. It makes finding an audience a titanic lift.
My indie horror work is well-received when people manage to stumble onto it, but I've absolutely failed to build enough of an audience for it. Is it me? Is it the work? Is it the environment? Is it all of the above? Who knows?
I do know that the NetGalley reviews of my latest novel were very solid -- even people who didn't truly love the work managed to praise it, which is heartening. It was nice to see that out of the indie horror foxhole I've been occupying since 2011. Strangers liked my book, and that's something.
I believe/think that my work can reach a wider audience and my approach to storytelling can draw readers. I just need to find them. And that's why I'm wrapping up with indie horror and moving on to other arenas, in hopes of eventually finding my audience.
I'll admit that being 52 years old influences my decision in that. I know full well the difference between surveying the literary landscape and taking stock at 22, 32, and 42 -- because I did that. There's a difference in those decades, and at 52, I recognize that the fuse is well-lit on my mortality, and the years I have left to me are far fewer than if I were a younger writer.
I'm happy with my indie horror work -- I think all of those books were as strong as I could make them as the writer that I was at the time I wrote them. But I want far more than just the satisfaction of having accomplished those writerly objectives.
And it makes me sad that those books never found their audience -- they're like ghosts to me, now, gazing forlornly at me from the luminous shadows of their own near-oblivion, with an ample measure of reproach for me, their creator, for having brought them into existence at all in such a desolate place as the feckless barrows of indie horror. All I can tell those works is that I tried, and they tell me, in turn, in a Greek chorus of banshee-like wailing:
"Do better! Try harder!"
That keening drives me to chase down the audience I need, and to write the work that readers actually want to read.
No comments have been added yet.
