Why Being Bad Is Good For Book Sales

A Literal Literary Loser Looks Lousy

When I shared last week’s post, Never Take Advice From Someone Who Isn’t Paying You, on social media, I heard from people who agreed with me, especially current and former members of the traditional publishing industry who wrote comments like, “I definitely agree with this! I would add that even an agent’s suggestions should be taken only if you agree with them wholeheartedly (or if she/he won’t send it out otherwise). Every editor will have a different opinion and it will likely be different from your agent’s.”

But I also heard from many, many people who disagreed with me. And they didn’t just disagree with me. They wrote paragraphs and paragraphs, vitriolic screeds accusing me of having no soul, of being no better than a loan shark, of thinking I knew better than anyone, of being insecure, of being a capitalist, of having no idea what it meant to be a writer, how publishing worked and, my personal favorite, “Editors should not pay you to edit your book. What I read is either extreme ignorance, outright refusal to ask for help or get the help needed.”

Now, I realize that, as often happens on the internet, many of my critics likely hadn’t even read the post, just the headline, thus missing the part where I didn’t say my books didn’t need editing. All 18 of my traditionally published novels went through multiple rounds of structural and copy-edits. But the work was done by professionals who paid me, not the other way around. (I gather that’s not how it’s supposed to work? See above criticism?)

It still upset me, though.

Not on a personal level. I’ve been writing for pay (also a crime, according to some of my new friends, you should write out of passion, nothing else; the way all other professionals - doctors, teachers, firefighters - refuse to take payment for their work as that tarnishes their commitment) since I was 17 years old. Not only have I developed the mandatory thick skin, I also learned a long time ago that any criticism leveled at me has more to do with the critic’s own insecurities and fears than with anything I may have written.

What upset me was the notion that my writing about my own personal convictions triggered so many people to see it as an attack on their very existence. And to lose their minds over it.

I didn’t set out to upset anyone. I didn’t set out to make anyone question their life choices. I’m very sorry that I did so. I feel terrible.

But here’s the rub: My posts that set out to encourage fellow writers by chronicling my setbacks and failures (this column is called A Literal Literary Loser, for Pete’s sake!) in order to reassure that we’re all in this crazy business together, do OK.

My column which made people see red, did great.

Engagement quintupled. Clicks tripled (see, I told you not everyone who had something to say about it actually read it). And, most importantly: Book sales went through the roof. Whether it was my latest traditionally published novel, “The Nesting Dolls,” the Figure Skating Mystery Series to which I got the rights back and re-released as enhanced e-books, or my self-published non-fiction, everything saw a notable uptick in sales.

My making people angry… or sad… or self-righteous… led to them checking out my books and, in many cases, purchasing them.

Is that how it’s supposed to work?

I thought readers bought your books if they liked the premise. Or if they’d liked your previous releases. Or if they liked you.

Now I’m supposed to alter my thinking and assume the more you upset them, the more likely they are to buy?

I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.

But can Literal Literary Losers literally be choosers?

Let me know what you think!