I want to finish pieces about shadowmaxxing and bingeing The Before Sunset movies, but I feel like writing about publishing. I haven’t done a Substack piece in a minute because when I’m doing this thing called pre-sales, I struggle to write. It’s the only time I just don’t really write.
It’s a careful dance being a writer and publisher, and I pull it off most days but not during pre-sales. It’s basically being a data miner for books you love that you’re going to pitch to your distributor. We work on back copies, getting BISACs, keywords, and most importantly, pitches.
People are always pontificating about what sells books, but I can say that having distributor support absolutely sells books. There is a reason why distribution matters and getting their distributor excited about the book is so important.
I feel like my job, besides reading a lot and editing, is basically just being a translator. I need to take my love of the work I am curating and translate the art into sales speak to people whose job is to sell the book to bookstores. I am not sure if this is an art itself, but I after I finish pitching, I feel I have just played a sweaty hour set.
I love these books I select but I have to present them as products while still sharing their artistic merit. I fight for them. I champion them and this all behind the scenes. This is about creating a story for the author’s work for the sales people that will continue with emails and be shared again at a sales conference in person.
It is a weird muscle of creativity and salesmanship that drains my Pisces ass. I really lean on music during these times. I don’t write but I notice I’ll play stuff I plan on recording like 5 days in a row until my voice needs a break. I don’t enjoy doing “sales” but I am good at it and speaks its language but it fucking drains me.
I finished pitching yesterday and it went really well. It was fun and my enthusiasm for the all the books felt recived and apprecaited. I felt real support and that’s you can truly want when pitching. This is why me and many publishers are super selective about what we publish because we are going to need that passion and never-waving enthusiasm to get us through the grind and pressure of publishing.
It’s a lot of pressure to be honest. It’s a privledge to be a publisher but it’s also a lot of pressure, because I am a writer and know what it feels like to give someone a part of yourself. When you writing a book have put a crazy amount of time, emotion, and a part of who you are into a screen with hopes of it becoming a book that connects with readers. That pressure will kill you if you let it. I have learned to stay loose, and try not to take publishing very seriously. If you see me shitposting from time to time, it’s my emotionally immature way to release pressure and not let this gig get me so tight.
It’s a paradox: I am an artist first and foremost, but my goal as a publisher is to try to give others what I would want in the middle of publishing. I like living in the middle where I have a distributor, but I don’t have to conform or navigate Big 5 rules in more risk-averse side of the industry. I gotta try to sell 3,000 books in the first year, not 10k to 30k or whatever goal they have these days. I will say knowing what I know now makes me even more impressed with Big 5 editors, that would be tough to deal with sales acquistions, when my biggest worry is just making sure my enthuisam becomes contagious for a book.
It’s done now and I’m back to substacking about pre-salesing. No escape! But I missed this. I like the lack of stakes of writing my self-indulgent pieces that are basically whatever I feel like writing about. This really is my terrority and I need it. I am always doing that dance with art and commerce as a publisher, novel-writer, and musician, but writing here for really myself—it’s the closest thing I get to true artistic autonomy even if it’s mostly a self-therapy session. Maybe substacking is just pre-sales for my suboncious and soul—yup I’m so back writing a ridiclous closer like that—it feels good to be back on the stack.