Author, Keep at It!

Confessions of an Infrequently-Successful Fiction Writer

Content Warning: Personal reflections. Might be helpful to some of my fellow writers and artists. If not of interest, of course, move on.

I was happily amazed recently when a science fiction story I wrote in 2020 was bought for an anthology. This after 15 rejections.

I was then even more happily amazed a week later when another of my stories won the Lunar Award here on Substack.

Promo Art for “Apollo Days” Science Fiction story

This all got me thinking, yet again, about how to define success in my writing life.

First, a confession. I have been writing fiction on and off for (gasp) over 50 years.

1973: The summer after my second year at college, I wrote a sword and sorcery novel as an independent study project. My Lit professor gave encouragement.

1974-75. Tried my hand at a few short stories and also wrote a magical realist novel, which served as my Senior Thesis (in the fantastic liberal arts college I attended). The baccalaureate committee was again encouraging. They referred me to a famous mystery writer who lived in the same town and had a relationship with the college. This man wrote a kind letter and said, “Good luck. This business has broken the hearts of most of my friends.”

1975-78. I studied fiction-writing in the MFA Program at UMass Amherst. Learned a lot about the art and craft. Wrote some more short stories, plus a science-fantasy novel as my thesis. My advisor, a published novelist, introduced me to an agent in New York.

1979-80. The agent sold my novel, which was published by Berkley Books. That same year, she sold one of my short stories to The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. I joined Science Fiction Writers of America. I was a pro.

Mooncrow by Jack Massa, 1979

1980-88. I was a pro, but not making much money. I worked in the business world, first as an editor, then a technical writer. Made a good living, but not from fiction. I wrote at night and on weekends, and finished two more fantasy novels. Neither one sold. The market had “moved on.” I attended the World Science Fiction Convention in 1986 and heard Ray Bradbury’s Guest of Honor Speech. He told us to do what we love.

1989 - 1991. I managed to place a couple of short stories in paying markets. Also, I was privileged to attend two writing conferences with some of the leading SF writers in the field. Sat around a table with Nebula and Hugo winners and critiqued each others’ work. Revised one of my stories based on the critiques. It sold to a Bantam Books anthology and was later picked up by a British Best-of-the-Year Collection. I was a success again. Sort of.

1992-94. I finished and submitted a science fiction novel. Not only didn’t it sell, but it got harshly panned by one editor. I swore to give up fiction for good.

2002-3. With the economy in a downturn, I decided to take some time off from my consulting business. Wrote a long historical fantasy set in the ancient world. It did not sell. I postponed further fictional ambitions.

2015-2023. Semi-retired from the business world. I attended an Indy Writers’ Conference and learned all about ebooks, self-publishing, and marketing your work. Renewed motivation! I wrote and published a series of YA paranormal-mystery novels. Also reclaimed two of my earlier fantasy books and turned them into trilogies. Produced twelve books and six audio books. Won awards, got positive reviews, made some money (but never enough to break even).

Available at triskelionbooks.com

So what does it all mean? Am I a successful author or not? How do we define success?

First, I think it’s really, really hard to make a living as a fiction writer. From all I can tell, those who do it write a lot, are good at “writing to market,” and also good at marketing their writing. Really good. They are to be congratulated.

But I’ve also known really good, celebrated authors who never made much money. One was a multiple Nebula winner who confessed to me that he was never good at selling. Another friend published three well-received fantasy novels and then couldn’t sell any more. The market had moved on, and it brought him despair. Like that mystery writer warned me long ago: This business can break your heart.

So why bother? As I recorded above, I’ve given up writing more than once. But something always brings me back. I remember a quote: “The only reason to be a writer is because you can’t not be a writer.” Perhaps, as Ray Bradbury hinted, we do it for love.

Or, as a character in my short story “Apollo Days” says, “Why else are we alive except to manifest that inner self, to express the highest thing we can be?”

So, to all you artists out there, I can only say, “Keep at it.”

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What do you think, dear reader? If you are a author or artist of any kind, I’d love to get your comments.