Hello again! It’s time for another installment of everyone’s favorite drunken advice column, Am I the Literary Asshole?, a place where good friends meet and lean in to discuss some possible petty gossip—FUN! I’m your host, Kristen Arnett, and I never met a beer I didn’t like. Thrilled to have you all with me today, truly. A pleasure and an honor.
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I’ve been craving a draft, so why not drag a whole keg into the backyard and get to work? It’s warm in Florida and there’s no sign of rain, so why not treat this February day like a glimpse into a warm spring and get to sipping? Imagine you’re here with me in all the juicy greenery, Orlando wildlife scampering around your feet. It’s nice, right? Perfect time to dig into some of your questions.
Here we go!
1) Am I the Asshole if I think every book cover looks the same? Creativity is in the toilet.
In the toilet! Wow! These are strong words!
I’ve gotta say that I think you’re being a little bit of an asshole on this one. It’s cheap and easy to say that EVERY book cover looks the same. That can’t possibly be true, can it? If you’re writing into this advice column, it means you read Lit Hub, which means you are, in fact, a reader of books. Consider the fact that this very website posts about their favorite covers every month and all of them look incredibly cool and surprising and different! It’s art!
It seems like maybe what you meant here was that certain popular covers are occasionally imitated. Yes, we’ve all seen those memes—some book covers occasionally look a little similar. That’s the operative word here, though. Occasionally. These occasional instances also have to do with trends and what’s happening in popular culture at any given moment. You could say the same thing for art or music or, hell, even fashion! Brat Summer and suddenly everything goes neon green. Trends are trends. But it doesn’t mean that everything looks exactly the same.
Creativity is not in the toilet. Book covers and their art are more interesting and fun than ever, in my opinion. It seems like maybe you got pissed off about a particular book cover trend and decided to vent inside my inbox. That’s okay, friend. Have a beer and chill out.
Let’s move on along and see what else we’ve got brewing:
2) My first book came out last year! It did well in terms of media attention thanks in large part to my publisher (something for which I’m incredibly grateful). But now that the initial rush is over, all I can think about is awards! I assume the big ones will all go to the same books that were on everybody’s best-of-2024 lists. But I truly can’t help getting my hopes up. How do I stop thinking like this? How can I be grateful for what I have? How do awards even work?
Oh friend! This is such a good question!
First of all, congratulations on publishing your first book—that is a huge achievement and one that you should really be excited about. It’s a big deal to get a book out in the world, and it’s even better to hear that your publisher was incredibly supportive and made you and your work a priority! That’s the dream!
The thing about awards is that of course it would be nice to get one. Let’s be serious, it’s a quietly held hope that lives in many of our hearts. We work on something for literal years and then we want it to go out into the world and do well. I think what you’re saying about best-of lists can oftentimes be a little true; some books ultimately wind up more visible than others. There are a lot of books out there and definitely a much smaller number of awards.
It can be easy to get swept away into a sea of “what-ifs” when it comes to these situations. Daydream, wonder what might be. And you know what? I think that’s perfectly fine! Why not wish for the absolute best? In a world where so much is shitty all the time I think we all deserve to live a little and have the very best intentions and hopes for our work.
The problem arises when we decide to pin all of our hopes onto winning an award. It’s great to wish for something, but it’s an entirely different animal to make awards the ultimate goal of publishing a book. I’m certain that when you were writing it you weren’t thinking “this is the one that’s going to win me the Booker,” or if you did, at least you didn’t think it all that often.
Instead of focusing solely on the award aspect, I’d urge you to think about all the good things your book has already done. Any time your flights of fancy take you into the realm of crushing disappointment, remind yourself of all the great things that you’ve accomplished. When we remember the nice stuff, it makes the losing a little more bearable.
And hey, it’s only your first book! You’ll get to do this song and dance at least a dozen more times in your career!
Pour out another beer—that last one was all foam—and let’s get to our final question of the day:
3) Should I worry if my novel is sellable? I come across so many people online nowadays saying I have to think about the “commercial angle.” But I don’t know if thinking about potential readers would be good for the art I want to make? If that makes sense? I just want to write novels and have them published. Is that too much to ask for?
Here’s the thing: you can do whatever you want!
There are avenues here, multiple paths you could take when it comes to your writing. It’s all up to what you’re looking to get out of the experience. If a person simply wants to get something published, there’s probably a way to do that. There are small presses and big ones, self-publishing, contests, etc. There are a million and one ways to get a book published in the year of our lord 2025. Sky is the legit limit.
But your question holds your answer, friend. You say that you just want to write novels. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: the act of writing is a different thing than the act of publishing. Making work is not the same as selling work. If you’re making the art that you want to be making, the “sellable” aspect will prove itself a moot point. I think it can be tough to go into a project already wondering if someone would want to buy it. That’s a hard thing to force a brain to focus on when really it should be one hundred percent present in the actual act of crafting art.
Why not focus on the writing for now? The publishing part can come later.
We’ve tapped the keg, my buddies. Join me next time when I might do a keg stand and when I’ll absolutely be answering more of your incredible questions. Go ahead and keep sending ‘em my way! I love you and I love your words.
Until next time,
Dad
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Are you worried you’re the literary asshole? Ask Kristen via email at AskKristen@lithub.com, or anonymously here.
