This post tackles a topic I rarely—if ever—see talked about in the writing community, and I’m going to take a bit of a scenic route to get there. Bear with me.
AO3 Nation
There’s something I admire deeply about fanfiction writers.
It took me a while to figure out what, exactly, it was. There are many things I admire about fanfic writers, but whenever I spoke to them, learned new acronyms in their language, heard stories of their dedication, or found out that yet another famous author or friend of mine got their start in fanfic, something else tugged at the back of my mind.
All around me was another world of authors happily taking their favorite characters for a spin in stories of their own creation. Their community had the best-run posting platforms, the best search algorithms, the fanbase so dedicated, it made pure Romance readers look tame. The authors who wrote the content those readers coveted did so completely heedless of the fact that fanfic is an un-monetizable genre—at least until you file the serial numbers off, which many of these authors aren’t inclined to do.
But this isn’t a post about fanfic.
Ships In The Night
Instead, let me talk for a moment about online publishing.
AO3 (that fanfic writers’ site) has seen its fair share of authors drop off the face of the earth, leaving their works—if even that—behind. Anyone who spends time on online serialization platforms like Wattpad, Tapas, Inkitt, or Royal Road likely has, at some point, encountered some variant of the same experience. The ghost profile. The unfulfilled promise of activity. The grey profile picture of someone who one day decided they were done and slipped off into the night. It happens in publishing, too, just with series instead of individual stories left unfinished.
Sound familiar?
I hope so.
But this isn’t a post about online platforms, either.
Shaking Up The Industry
Fast-forward instead to the rise of self-publishing. Here, we have a cultural revolution that shook the publishing industry to its core. A new reality in which anyone could sell a book and become famous without bowing and scraping to the gods and gatekeepers of traditional publishing. Here, a new breed of writer arose. These were the giants of self-publishing: the Romance writers churning out a book every six weeks. The Paranormal Erotica writers once sneered at in posh offices. The Sci-Fi serialists writing one universe for decades. The epic Fantasy denizens who were told their doorstoppers were too big for trad.
These are the success stories, we’re told. The 1%. The lucky ones. The authors who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps and laughed in the face of the industry that shunned them, then found the fame they deserved. And if they could do it, really, maybe anyone can.
But this isn’t a post about self-publishing, either.
Where Am I Going With This?
There’s a common thread between these examples. If you haven’t gathered it yet, I don’t blame you. There’s something nobody talks about in the writing community, and it has to do with those fanfic authors, those unfinished books, and the 99% of published writers who don’t get big, let alone the 99% who never get published at all. There’s something nobody talks about in the writing community, and it’s this:
The vast majority of people who take up writing aren’t in it for the fame, the fortune, or maybe even the long haul.
And that’s okay.
A Community View
I’ve been involved in online writing communities for years now. I ran several on Discord for the better part of half a decade. A year into that tenure, I noticed something while looking back over older posts. In just a year, the regular, active membership of the community had almost turned over. Old regulars had withdrawn and new ones had replaced them. And yet, the community had grown. It thrived despite the turnover, so I shrugged and moved on with my day.
A year later, it had happened again.
It was a shock to me when, two years after the community’s founding, I looked over its member list and realized that fewer than half a dozen of the original, active members remained. Three of that half-dozen were me and my co-leaders, all of us once newbies in those early days. We were the long-haul writers. The committed ones, with book counts that could sink a Spanish galleon and plans to keep writing for the rest of our lives. We were also, I discovered that day, highly unusual.
Long Haulers
The paradox of the writing community is that even though most writers will never be hardcore committed, the ones who are tend to become the faces of the community. Also the faces of the industry. I’m talking about the ultimate 1% and 0.1% here. Their steadfast presence gives them social status and staying power, but also gives the false impression that everyone is like them. Or that everyone should be like them, or should want to be like them, because we live in a world where capitalism dictates that anything you’re good at should be monetized, and anything you spend time on is a waste of time unless it becomes your career.
In reality, there’s a reason most books on Wattpad or Tapas or even AO3 go unfinished. It’s not a matter of commitment… writing a book is just really fucking hard. It’s also a hobby for most people. Which brings us to a dizzyingly vast array of ways to be a writer, which range from hardly discussed to outright taboo in the writing community:
The Single-Purpose Writers
- Writers who were only ever in it to write one book, just to prove that they can.
- Writers for whom that book was a bucket list item to be checked off before they move on.
- Writers whose book is a school project, not a personal endeavor.
- Writers who start a book as catharsis, get through that rough patch, and find they no longer feel the need to continue.
- Writers who write to process something personal, then stop when it’s served that purpose.
The Occasionals
- Writers who sneak words and paragraphs into the small minutes of the day.
- Writers who write to decompress from the rest of life, whenever needed.
- Writers who leave for years and only later come back to pick up writing again.
- Writers who only write for special and/or community events.
- Writers who remember their book twice a year, add a sentence, and forget it again.
The Hobbyists
- Writers who know that monetizing their writing will rob it of its joy.
- Writers who enjoy their day job enough that they don’t feel the need to monetize a hobby.
- Writers who become so jaded by the industry, they can’t continue to participate in it.
- Writers who give up monetization or even posting to write on their own, for fun.
- Writers who find it healthier to never share their work with anyone.
- Writers who discover their heart lies with the fanfic community, and make their final home there.
The Casual Pros
- Writers who are happy to make pocket change from their writing, and stop there.
- Writers who publish one book just to say they did it.
- Writers who only publish so they can share the link with loved ones.
- Writers who never market, and let their books earn casual income forever.
- Writers who are happy to keep a day job that enables part-time writing.
The Indefinite Hiatuses
- Writers whose lives have gotten crazy, so writing is the thing they discard.
- Writers whose writer’s block lasts months, if not years, if not decades.
- Writers who have kids and don’t know when they’ll get back to writing again.
- Writers whose mental health takes precedence over writing.
- Writers who just don’t have the time.
The Bygones
- Writers who start on a whim and move on once the inspiration passes.
- Writers who thought a book might be fun, but find the work outweighs the enjoyment.
- Writers who were told they could make easy money with writing, then find out that’s a lie.
- Writers who find they have a toxic relationship with writing, and so give up the craft.
- Writers who find that while it’s been a fun ride, they’re ready for a different hobby.
The Quiet Majority
This is what I admire about fanfic writers: they, more than anyone, have found what it means to write for the sheer joy of writing. It doesn’t matter that most will never make money off their books. Most authors in general won’t, anyway. And most do not care. For every committed long-haul writer, there are ten who will write a paragraph, a page, maybe one book, then move on. For every ambitious super-writer, there are twenty for whom writing means something other than a monetized career. For every writer who writes daily, there are thirty who put words on the page once or twice a year.
And that’s okay.
Every unfinished book or series has a story behind it, and I’m not talking about the story it contains. And while I do wish the algorithms on some of these online platforms would stop pushing unfinished books to readers, I will never fault a writer for ghosting their work. They are, after all, one of the silent majority. It’s those who do pour their hearts and lives into writing and finishing books for decades who are rare.
About the Author
A.B. Channing is a queer speculative fiction writer who loves analyzing the writing industry and dislikes speaking about himself in third person. Most of his work is Dark Fantasy or Horror, but he crosses paths with Sci-Fi, Paranormal, and Romance more often than not. When not at his keyboard, he can most often be found up to his elbows in a pond.
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