[Edit: I wrote this post a few weeks back but delayed publishing because of the move from Substack to Patreon. A few things have changed, namely going on sub with Birds and feeling hopeful about that. But I think it’s still important to share this article as it was when I wrote it, so… ta da!]
I am writing to you though from a publishing doldrums. It’s not something that’s especially original, but this particular one is new to me so I am having to feel my way through it as best I can. As always though, if something to do with publishing is hard to talk about, it’s probably also useful to talk about on the off chance it resonates with someone else out there.
I’m probably not meant to talk about this stuff in case it’s seen as a lack of faith in my writing (it isn’t) or a criticism of my agent or editor (it definitely isn’t, they’re both fabulous), or just that it doesn’t emanate sufficient chirpy optimism. But we all face these moments, so if we can’t face them together then what even is community? Everyone in publishing, including the editors who have my books in their inbox, know it’s tough sometimes. Me pretending I never have hard days or doubts might be comfortable but it’s not true and we all know that. I could wait until I have happy news so this becomes a narrative of ‘if you just hang in there, magic will happen’, and yes, those stories are reassuring and hopeful and I love them. But I want to speak about the hard stuff without always having to wrap it up in a bow, because life, and publishing, is not an Instagram filtered thing. So this is an uncomfortably honest post, and there is no pep talk nor happy ending, just a domino chain of worries and then maybe a little stoicism…
So why the doldrum?
Timelines and publication gaps.
I wrote recently about the challenges of fitting in with publishing timelines – and mentioned my odd position of having a backlog of manuscripts and facing a publication gap. At the start of this year, my agent and I had bold plans of getting two books out on submission by May, hopefully selling one or both by the end of the year and thus having publications racked up for 2027 and beyond.
Sitting now with 2/3rds of the year gone, one of those books not out on sub yet, and the other as yet unsold, that plan looks unlikely to come to fruition. If I am lucky enough to get a deal signed in the next 4 months, that book would most likely get a 2028 publication slot at the earliest. So that’s a 2+ year publication gap. Which is both a problem for my career momentum and for my (lol) bank balance.
The market
I have read a fair few articles in the last couple of months from which it looks like the market, particularly in the US but also in the UK and translation, is tightening its purse strings and getting more conservative about what it’s acquiring. With the uncertainties around tariffs, living costs, book bans and printing costs, it makes a horrible kind of logic that publishers might look for guaranteed hits in the shape of celebrities, successful self-published authors, booktok trope-led books, and already-well established authors.
I’ve also been having a lot of conversations with author friends that add up to consistent anecdata of some US (genre) publishers, faced with the current political climate, shying away from the marginalised, the strange or different or complicated. Even with already-acquired books, it looks anecdotally like some publishing houses are feeling the pressure to shape their upcoming lists towards more mainstream markets and ‘safer’ tastes.
(Which inspires a whole other conversation about what diversity looks like when it’s a gesture not a foundation. But I’m not getting into that today.)
What does this mean for my on-sub book – a strange, tangled, sad solar-punk-ish story full of marginalised identities? Bluntly: that while I think it might be the bravest, best thing I’ve written so far, it’s quite possibly not what (particularly US) editors are looking for. My awaiting-sub book might land better – it’s folk Gothic, which is popular right now. But it’s still genre-blending, full of marginalised identities, and very Welsh, so… I don’t know. I really don’t.
Track records.
I am not a shiny debut author brimming with potential. I am also not a bestselling or major-award-winning author. And god knows I am neither celebrity nor social media queenlet. What I am is a small author with some reputable (but not big league) award wins to my name and a sales record that was growing steadily as I moved from tiny to small to medium publishers, but remains in the grand scale of things unimpressive.
We Are All Ghosts In The Forest has, I believe, sold okay for the publisher’s moderate expectations. It did unfortunately kind of bomb out of the awards this year – gaining only the one long-listing for the BSFAs – still extremely wonderful, but not something that can alter the trajectory of a book.
The problem with this is that it doesn’t give an editor hoping to acquire my books much weaponry with which to convince an acquisitions meeting. Strong sales or a high profile award listing would help this hypothetical editor fight for my book despite the hesitancy of the market and my writing’s non-conformity. The absence of both means that even if an editor loves my books, there’s a good chance they won’t be able to offer, because my track record doesn’t scream bestseller. I suspect this may have happened already with the on-sub book, which is frustrating.
That I have a wonderful loyal readership, that I (think I) am easy to work with (aka deliver on time and am not a dick), that I have been growing my reach steadily with each book and hope to continue to do so with The Salt Oracle… This is great, but it doesn’t hold as much water on a Profit and Loss spreadsheet as hard sales numbers.
The view from here
So from where I’m sitting, on a blowsy late August day in 2025, five years after my debut novel released and about 2 months before the release of my 6th, I am worried.
I’m worried that I won’t land another publishing deal at all.
I’m (more realistically) worried that I won’t land an equivalent or better deal, and so my reach and sales record will shrink and my hard earned momentum will dissipate.
I’m worried that by the time another deal happens, the publication gap and the deal size/publisher’s reach will mean I will effectively be starting from scratch rebuilding my visibility.
I’m worried that I am facing years of earning only a few hundred pounds from prior royalties, as I approach my 50th birthday with barely any pension and a body that still won’t let me do anything that would earn me an actual living.
I’m worried that the loss of faith in myself and my writing, combined with the permanent strain of chronic illness, will erode my creativity and my mental and physical health.
I’m worried that right now, publishing simply doesn’t want my voice. That my writing is too odd, too quiet, too ‘diverse’, too literary (whilst I the author don’t fit the Literary mould) and perhaps 6 books is all I get. Perhaps it was a good run for someone the wheels of publishing are not designed to turn for.
Depressing innit?
So what do I do?
Worries never unspilled the milk, as someone once said to me. There’s a whole lot of this scenario that I’m powerless to influence, but what can I do to weather this period long enough to see how many of my worries materialise and how many were foundless?
The obvious first one is work on something new. Concentrate on loving the craft and celebrating the craft, and try not to look further down the road than this page right here, and then the next one, and then the next. I’m trying. I am loving the new project and I’m trying not to tangle myself up in questions of its marketability.
Contrarily, maybe think a little strategically about which of my planned projects to focus on next. This is something I’ll talk through with my agent, and possibly my editor, soonish. I have a long list of book ideas, and I delight in being told by savvier people than me ‘this one will be easier to sell now’, or conversely, ‘this one’s for the backburner, now is not the time’. It’s a perspective I very much appreciate.
Consider a bit of reinvention. The industry loves a debut, and it also loves to disguise published authors as debuts however it can, whether that’s by heralding a move into a different genre/age category as their debut, or by playing that familiar card – the pen name. I cannot picture myself writing children’s books, or radically switching genres (no billionaire romances for me #eattherich) but I am very amenable to being repositioned and renamed if that means my books stand a better chance.
Perhaps most importantly, be patient. If my agent or editor are reading this, they’re probably thinking ‘Holy crap, woman, give it time!’ and they’d have a point. My current contract sold after ~7 months on sub, where-as this new book has been on sub less than 5 months & my other book isn’t even out there yet. I have a great agent and supportive editor. So chances are still high that both books will find brilliant homes, and that when they do, reader memory will not prove quite so short-lived as I fear. In which case all of this might smell a little of catastrophising. But hey, I like to be prepared/overthink everything, to avoid being knocked as flat if the bad thing does happen. I think it’s realistic to take stock at this point, but also I do need to not panic.
However things turn out eventually, facing this kind of set back is hard so I will need to refill the well, or erect some fences around the well. I need to feed my creativity to counter the drain on it from all this crap, and we all know how to do that by now right? Read, immerse myself in good communities, go for walks, read some more, take my medicines, rest, create in other ways. It sounds facile but this is the stuff that nurtures emotional resilience, and I’m gonna be needing that to get me through.
And lastly, celebrate the good stuff. I have The Salt Oracle coming out soon and want to be in a place to fully support and enjoy this book – I’m very proud of it and it deserves as good a shot as I can grant it. I’m also excited to get All The Birds Will Be Hostile out on submission.The Last To Drown is up for a British Fantasy Award in November, so I am looking forward to enjoying that whole shebang with my friends. And hey, look how far I’ve come in 5 years – 6 books, a handful of awards and some truly amazing readers is bloody awesome. I’ve learned so much and met so many kind, passionate, talented, fascinating people; whatever happens next, there’s no taking any of that away from me.
So things are looking daunting and uncertain, but we have many cards left to play and all I can do is play them, and hope. Thank you for reading this horribly personal, slightly maudlin update.
I know I am not alone with these worries and these doldrums, so to anyone out there who’s reading this thinking ‘omg same’, consider yourself hugged. Publishing is a sharp-toothed and tidal beast, but all tides turn, we just need to stick around long enough to see it. And if you have any tips on weathering these times, do let me know in the comments.
Thank you, as always for your support. Because accessibility in publishing is important to me, I keep all my craft and publishing posts free, so any shares or tips are greatly appreciated. Wishing you a fabulous weekend.
