Fangirls, Subscribers, and Patrons, Oh My!

Relationships with Our Readers

“Actually, I’m a socialist,” I said sheepishly at a launch event last week in New York City. It wasn’t graceful, but when my facilitator started encouraging people to buy my novel, Falling Through the Night, I was visibly uncomfortable, and I wanted to explain. The most exciting moment during the campaign, I told them, was when I found out that most public libraries will buy books recommended by members (I immediately made a video about it for Instagram). Why was this exciting to me? Well, because then my book would be free for everyone and far more people then have access to it.

It’s Pride, and I’m experimenting with selling my books at the festivals. Last week, Alexi and I were at Essex Pride in Vermont, and we had a blast. I loved talking with people and I was touched and deeply grateful when they bought books. But actually selling, like the woman in the booth next to me was doing, just wasn’t something I could muster.

A friend suggested that my discomfort with selling my books is related to low self-esteem, and while I have many insecurities, this isn’t accurate. I’m incredibly proud of my work and overjoyed when people read it, particularly when there’s any kind of interaction. What’s personally hard is persuading people to spend money. When I’m on the other side of that equation, I get angry. I feel the energy of manipulation, and it pushes me away from the other person. Freedom is one of my highest values, and when that piece is missing, I don’t feel like I can engage authentically. 

We live in a capitalist society. In the United States, writers have to sell their work if they want a career. In cultures with public support for the arts, this isn’t an issue. In those societies, artists don’t have to convince readers to give them money in exchange for their work. In other words, writers can relate to readers without an agenda.

What is involved when that agenda exists? What’s the impact of having to sell our writing to readers to survive? I suggest there are ramifications around content, around how we spend our time, and around how we show up and engage with people reading our material. 

What We Write About

If I am relying on selling my work to pay my bills, I need to consider what I can write about; I have to write what sells. For example, I am a Jewish writer, and I recently penned a short story delving into particular struggles many progressive Jews are experiencing around the war in Gaza and Israel. I published that story, “Before the Seventh Day,” in the magazine I edit with several other writers. If I was selling my work to support my family, I guarantee you I would not have published that story. It would have been way too risky. And I feel like that story expressed something I haven’t seen in many other places. Do we as a society want to censor controversial or even potentially controversial voices and pieces? We are far worse off when this happens.

How We Spend Our Time

I happen to be lucky. I have a thriving freelance business, and I make decent money. What I don’t have is the kind of time I would like to put into my writing. I’ve made that choice because I’d rather have less time to write and more freedom. A big piece of that is about the kind of relationship I want with my audience.

Something that’s new in this day and age with fewer gatekeepers is marketing. No writer creating work in the United States can spend all or even most of their time on their art unless they don’t care about readers. Social media, website, press, events, and networking all become necessary. While this isn’t the end of the world, this isn’t what we tend to be good at. Most of us are introverts, and marketing is an entirely different field with wildly different skill sets. 

Finally, when we’re selling our books like products, we have to prioritize events and people who have access to the largest numbers. In other words, we have to suck up to popular folks. I for one tend to do far better with small, intimate groups. Readings of around 15 people are perfect. But thi

s won’t help me if I have to generate large sales. Then, I’m competing with everyone else for those few opportunities to get in front of large numbers of people. This creates a status hierarchy that’s not based on anything other than popularity.

How We Show Up With Readers

Something else related to audience is connection. When someone is selling millions of books, it’s obviously impossible to connect directly with most readers. While I can’t imagine turning down that kind of life, I also know it would be difficult for me. Without one-on-one engagement with readers, I’m left with me and my characters and some podcast hosts. It becomes far more about status and image than about relating and connecting. 

One of my favorite moments from that launch event in New York, to which around 15 people came, was when a woman talked about her experience on the dating apps after a long marriage. She told that story after I read a passage about Audrey, the main character in my novel, and how her friend Jessica made her a profile. The reason I read the scene was feeling interested in a conversation, an exchange. This is something only possible on a small scale. To have the kind of career you need to support yourself, in other words, when you’re a best-selling author, this kind of intimacy with readers is impossible.

Most people on Substack aren’t selling books or stories to millions of readers. This can feel like a failure in a capitalist system. But I do think it means there’s an opportunity to cultivate genuine connections with readers that make the experience more intimate. 

As a socialist, I’ve chosen to make money in other ways so I keep sales tactics to a minimum; I want something different from my relationship with my readers. How about you?  Would love to hear your thoughts!