THE STATE OF THE NEWSLETTER
It’s in shambles y’all, unless you're into capitalism.
In the last week Zoe and I have gotten three responses from folks who requested ARCs for [insert reason here] that upon receiving those ARCs wrote us back and said, “I actually just started a newsletter, and I’d love to interview [insert author name] as part of my [insert series].
All this is fine and good, except we pitched that person because they regularly wrote for Esquire, or they did an interview series with Orion, or they often reviewed poetry collections for Rhino. In other words, they had established themselves in mainstream media, and it is our [reason for reaching out] hopes that they might imagine this book as a fit for that media. We usually stipulate this in our pitch, or at least why we thought the book would resonate with them specifically.
And of course, after a book is sent out of a warehouse or by the hands of a university press intern, if it’s lost to a book room, or the reviewer hated it, or they send me a long-side-of-long email about how they review out of the goodness of their heart and they hope to get to it by the end of the year (a sort of “… why are you following up with me?” and my response is, “this is my job and no pressure”), those are things not exactly outside of my control, but humans being humans.
However, these are factors that are very different for small / independent presses than a big four publisher who could just send another galley into the black hole. We might have (quite literally one time) five physical galleys that we’re dolling out on a clothesline of hope and good vibes.
And I get it, the publicity machine is built on reciprocity.
It’s also built on a favor economy, which is unique to publishing. (Mentioned here in the blurb essay from Esquire). You cash in a favor here, you scratch someone’s back so they’ll scratch yours later, you participate in literary citizenry so that when it circles back to you—you’ve either built the community of support alongside your career building (arguably one point of MFA programs), or people know you as someone who has built a sturdy little plank [re: platform] across the creek of the literary ecosystem. It’s not slimy in that “I’m going to review your book so you’ll review mine later,” but there is a give & give relationship. Blurbs are a fine example of this.
Some critics make criticism their art and it’s never their hope to write books, but most folks who are reviewing books are also writers themselves, which makes book publicity—follow me for the metaphor—a sort of talking back and forth, a sort of group huddle with a mad-dashery of plays, a coffee shop with a lot of voices and beverage choices, and it’s our job as the reader to find the spaces and people talking about books in a way that speaks to us (or at the very least isn’t a place we loathe. I’m looking at you Goodreads).
And newsletters are great for publicity, platform, and selling books. Editors used to tell me the number one platform element they looked for was number of newsletter subscribers because those people do buy books. I pitch newsletters for clients all the time. I encourage clients to start newsletters if they want to, and if they have a good idea, they have the time to be reliable, and the goal is not to just hock their book for a few months in lead-up to publication (no one wants that in their inbox).
But lately it feels like we’re hitting peak newsletter. No offense to … well, me, but once moms adopt something, it’s already plummeting through the cultural zeitigiest. Not to say we aren’t cool, but if we love something, the kids are over it—the next generation isn’t using it. Sure, the next generation is just one reading audience, but they’re a way to get a glimpse into what the next publicity fodder might look like. (Cue everyone asking me if they have to get on Tiktok). I love Faith Hitchon reporting on trends from her daughters middle school car line.
Aside from the moms, we’ve entered the newsletter as side-hustle-gig-economy-stripe-transfer-pay-to-play-future-book-deal-is-it-a-network-or-is-it-a-community capitalism hotbed. There are people I respect very much making a living on this here newsletter platform, offering their community something unique (Sari Botton’s Oldster Mag is always my go-to, and she pays!), and then there are people who are using their newsletter as a way to sell you something.
I’ve seen people selling classes on newsletter writing, using their newsletter as a way to sell their future book (it might feel like it’s everyone, but it is not), writing their advice that is mostly personal experience packaged as knowledge of an entire industry (is this what I’m doing? Arguably…), manifesting a future where they’re the editor of your next book project (do we know if they’re good editors or just good newsletter writers?), or simply selling an idea.
Some will tell you that they’re writing their entire book on Substack and that their agent will then package it into a proposal to be sold to a publisher (something like Sabrina Orah Mark’s incredible Happily—a column at Paris Review and then a book I loved so much I wanted to swallow it whole). Again, the percentage of this successfully working is so low, and so dependent on the newsletter at hand. But come on, we also all remember “Fuck the Bread. The Bread is Over.” Now, that’s a book, baby!
Some of these folks are selling their expertise. I’m not talking about experts in the academic sense (or credentialed sense) with newsletters (Ed Yong or Emma Gannon or Emily Oster), but instead the folks who have created a class or program based on their own very successful newsletter, which usually happens to be an idea that can’t be replicated. So, what exactly are they teaching & selling? A few things sure: consistency, writing towards an audience, determining your newsletter voice, scheduling—but would any of that breed an equally successful newsletter? My face says:
And yet, do we think the very idea that someone has built an audience is enough expertise for them to teach us how we could do the same? Does building an audience mean you know what ROI stands for? I would say marketing has taught us the answer to that question is yes (in the age of the influencer). I would tell you because I had a blog in the early aughts, I am better at this than I would be otherwise. I would say having an audience does not a teacher of gaining one make you.
It’s so much more nuanced than just “building an audience.” There are things that could help, sure—I’ve helped authors build successful newsletters—but I don’t think there’s a sort of smooth packaging people might like others to believe exists. It’s that lucky combination of you-ness, voice, creativity, idea, offering, consistency, and community.
And it makes me wary to see how folks in newslettering are moving, to see who is fast-tracked to newsletter dominance (because they are literally reaching out to other people with platforms to build their own—going on popular podcasts, giggling with other popular newsletters, etc. I know we all learned this in high school, but a clique does not a teacher make), and on the same coin, their advice may be outdated or untrue or quite dependent on situational expertise. For instance, did you know you can just submit yourself to “Substack Featured Publication” for that little ribbon? Friends can submit you too.
I’m not knocking the hustle, I want everyone to make enough to feel comfortable, but I do worry when the point becomes the hustle rather than the thing itself. When the reason behind the newsletter is to make money, it makes me question what about the whole idea is genuine.
So taking you back to those reviewers, the ones with the newsletter where they want to interview authors. The ones attempting to build something. Good for them! The ones entering the side hustle of Substack. It’s asking for a lot of trust from authors, without (unfortunately) the backing or history of legacy media, the built-in audience of said media, or the garnered trust from the audience of said media, for an author to take a chance being an early guinea pig of your newfound newsletter. I feel similarly about new podcasts. I love to support both, but I wonder what kind of trust that asks of authors and writers without the equity. It’s an ask of, “to be determined” or “yet to be seen.” (And we know this platform is full of bigots, so that faith in platform is also meh, at best).
So, I guess it’s a question of trust on both ends. Can I trust what you write if you’re writing a newsletter with the first goal being to sell me something (of course I hope people reading our newsletter sell great books and then want to hire us for publicity, but you hiring us is not even in my top three goals of this newsletter) or can I trust you with our authors if there’s not yet proof of "sweat equity” or even just proof of concept—who’s reading it, and why? Depending on who you are or where you’re coming from when you start the newsletter, you might have an answer to this.
And the real kicker, when you do finally get to the point where your newsletter has a substantial audience and you're getting pitches from PR folks—will our authors still be on your list? Or will you have “outgrown” indie authors for a chance at interviewing this week’s hot list-maker? TBD.
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As always, the Pine State calendar of events lives here, and you can buy our books here! You can also see what we’re working on (though this needs updating!) and contact us through our website, Pinestatepublicity.com.
ICYMI: Today is Cynthia Marie Hoffman’s pub day for EXPLODING HEAD and she’s on Wisconsin Public Radio’s Morning Show right now & you can read a first of MANY essays forthcoming in Chicago Review of Books. Also, Margo Steines Brutalities is reviewed in The Millions, Jessica Jacobs speaks with Philip Metres for Sound of Ideas, Kelly McMasters is on Let’s Talk Memoir, Brian Allen Carr is on Textual Healing, the biggest AWP event is happening next week, “Women Who Leave” with The Rumpus, Margo Steines is in The Guardian talking exercise addiction, Brian Allen Carr is reviewed in Publishers Weekly, and so much more on our Twitter & Instagram.
"I’m not knocking the hustle, I want everyone to make enough to feel comfortable, but I do worry when the point becomes the hustle rather than the thing itself." I really appreciate this thoughtful post, Cassie. I'm sort of recoiling from "the hustle" that is Substack right now. It's a huge distraction, and I don't need a million subscribers. I'm taking the advice that resonates with me and ignoring the rest.
On point, as always! Sharing this with my Discord community.