Sam
Wiebe is the author of the Vancouver crime novel, Cut You Down, Invisible Dead,
and Last of the Independents. Wiebe's
short stories have appeared in Thuglit,
Spinetingler, and subTerrain, and he was the 2016
Vancouver Public Library Writer in Residence. He lives in Vancouver.
(Yawn.)
That’s
from Sam’s website bio. It’s accurate, as far as it goes. What it doesn’t tell
you is how Sam has won awards and may well be the tip of the spear that brings private
investigators back to their deserved position at the apex of crime fiction. Sam
didn’t just stumble onto this. He’s as thoughtful about the craft as any writer
I know, so I was delighted when he agreed to be this week’s guest poster.
One
more thing few people know about Sam: Even though he’s from Vancouver, he has
an
affinity for hush puppies. (Not the shoes, dumbass. The food.) Find some
from Claude Cooper’s and Sam will follow you anywhere.
* *
* * *
* * *
Stuck in the
Middle
“If you want to write commercially,
abandon pretense and go for the throat.
If your field is literature don’t worry
about the market.”
Jack
McClelland, shared to me on Facebook via John McFetridge
I’ve been
thinking about this quote a lot lately, as I try to figure out where my career
is going.
I’m lucky. I’ve
written only the books I wanted to, and the response to them has been
overwhelmingly positive. But I’m also not sure where to go from here.
There isn’t a
lot of advice for the mid-career writer. Other than a couple columns—Chuck
Wendig’s was pretty good—it’s not an area that attracts a lot of
philosophizing. People want to know how to break in, or how to make millions
overnight. Few people want to know how to sustain a writing career once you’ve
breeched the walled city.
As Harlan
Ellison wrote, “The trick is not to become a writer; it is to stay a writer.
Day after day, year after year, book after book.”
I didn’t know
anything about the publishing world when I started. (Not much has changed.)
It’s a problematic business, especially when success is measured by two things which
might not help, and may actually hinder, a sustained writing career: giant
advances and first week sales. It’s a business that moves slowly, when it moves
at all, and a business in which writers are not often ‘looped in’ with
marketing and publishing decisions that affect their fates. (There are several
columns to be written on these topics, by people much smarter than I am.)
To go back to
the McClelland quote: I’ve never worried about the market, but the genre I
write in is commercial to some extent. I think of myself sometimes as being in
the middle, between someone writing just for themselves and just for an
audience. It comes back to the advice of “write the book you want to read.”
The middle is a
dangerous place to be, career-wise. Your work is in market competition with
books written for no other reason than to sell. On the other hand, as a genre
writer, you’re shut out of a lot of the protections and awards that gild the
careers of “literary” writers. You have to make your own opportunities, but at
the same time, you’re writing something you care about. Any business success
serves only to sustain a writing career so you can write more things you care
about with fewer distractions.
Writing comes
first, business second, but the distance between those isn’t as big as I’d once
believed, and they’re interrelated in ways I’m only now appreciating.
Anyway, there’s
no conclusion to this, no, “And here’s where I learned sales don’t matter…” We
all have books to write and bills to pay, and I love to see conversations about
doing both.
(Editor’s Note:
Sam has expressed things here I’ve thought quite a bit about myself. Expect to
see more on this topic from him and me in the near future.)
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