004: Unpacking Writing Advice – What’s The Philosophy?

This week’s newsletter is the second of a trilogy, dealing with a fundamental challenge of being a writer: not all the advice you’re offered is a great fit for you, even if it worked perfectly for the person offering the advice.

Over the years, I’ve routinely found this out the hard way, applying advice indiscriminately and realising too-late that the result it promotes isn’t necessarily a god fit for my goals or my practice. As a result, there’s three things I like to figure out before taking any advice on board.

Last week, I broke down the biggest: how much capital does this advice require, and do I have the resource base to implement it? In a world where countless ‘gurus’ are advertising courses and services, working to your resources rather than the promise of the add is an important survival trait. 

Today, we deal with the second question: What’s the philosophy behind this advice?

Once again, a relatively simple question hides a surprising amount of complexity. For instance, philosophy will involve a whole bunch of sub-questions, such as:

• What does this person think a ‘good’ book is?
• What do they think is acceptable, or not acceptable, regarding making money from art?
• What role do they think stories (or paintings, or theatre, or art) serves within their culture?
• What do they think needs to change in their industry? What is regarded as ‘sacred’? What is open to compromise?
• What are their beliefs about particular genres, or the kinds of work you like to do?

There are all sorts of outstanding advice out there that simply isn’t a good fit for some people. 

For example, I have a huge amount of respect for Dean Wesley Smith as someone who writes about indie publishing and practice, but he operates with a different philosophy of what art should do than me. 

More recently, there’s a considerable debate about the role AI plays in creation that is bringing these questions into public debate, and we’re increasingly seeing these philosophical differences lead to anger and hostility.

So let’s jump straight to one of the big ones:

SHOULD ART EARN MONEY?

As someone who frequently writes about creativity and business in various venues, I get a lot of static from people who fundamentally disagree with my approach. “Art should not make money,” they say. “What’s good for business is bad for art. “

This isn’t surprising. Western culture typically places art and commerce on opposite sides of a binary, with long-standing constructs that there are “high” and “low” art, often divided by the intended audience for a piece and the money it’s likely to earn.

Serious literature focused on the interests of white, male, well-educated men is art; genre fiction aimed at children, at women, or at the interests of the working class is crass and commercial. 

This isn’t a truth it’s a philosophy and someone who Cleaves to this philosophy is going to find it a very difficult to implement things I believe are important as a creative practitioner with decades of experience but simultaneously they are a bad person for me to take advice from because their goals and their because their philosophy is incompatible with the way I see the business of art.

Obviously, there are many cultural problems with art/commerce divide based on cultural privilege. The past few decades have gone a long way towards unpacking those belief systems, but cultural narratives die hard. If nothing else, the steady stream of authors setting out to “reinvent” a genre they don’t normally write in speaks to the lack of understanding and respect for the craft of people who write there.

With advice, this divide means everyone offering you writing advice comes at the question of what is good writing slightly differently. They also have similarly divergent ideas about what your writing should do. 

For some people, writing is a muse-driven art, while others will regard themselves as artisans who have learned a particular skill. 

NOT A BINARY CHOICE

It’s easy to see philosophical divide as a binary: art made with “pure” purposes, unsullied by the realities of commerce, is good; art made for earning money is bad.

In reality, that binary is more like a spectrum. We may believe that art should be ‘pure’, but believe financial rewards ‘great’ work are acceptable so long as they weren’t expected during the creation. 

We may believe that art can be a business, but it should also uphold philosophical goals of some kind.

It would be easier if the choice were binary, because right now everyone exists in perpetual shades of grey. Most writers—and, heck, most people—are dealing with a conflict between their philosophical ideal and the compromises they’re willing to make in order to exist in the present. 

For example, I may believe that late-stage capitalism is a mess that should be torn down and replaced by something better, but my ability to enact change is limited and engaging with capitalism is necessary if I want shelter, food, and more.

Writing and other art forms exist in a very similar space. One reason it’s worth grappling with the philosophy of the person offering advice is making sure you’re willing to make the same compromises.

I mentioned Dean Wesley Smith earlier—a long-time commentator on publishing and self-publishing whose advice is backed by decades of experience. Philosophically, I suspect there are a huge number of similarities between my philosophy of art and business and what Dean believes. 

His years of blogging and thought experiments inform a considerable amount of my thinking about publishing, and even when we disagree, grappling with those disagreements inspires some interesting insights.

But the divergences between our philosophies matter, because we have differing opinions on what our writing should do. Dean works like an old-school pulp writer, producing a huge number of works at speed, with output taking priority over anything else. 

This rarely meshes with my own goals as a writer. I like to produce a lot—and I love pulp fiction—but I don’t believe it’s the best response to the current marketplace, nor is it a clean fit for my artistic goals beyond making money.

Often, when faced with writing advice that sounds good, it’s worth looking at the creator’s work and career. Would you be happy producing the work they produce? Do you want your career to resemble theirs? If the answer to either is no, look twice at their suggestions. 

MY CORE PHILOSOPHIES

Since you’re here reading this newsletter, let me break down some of the core philosophical beliefs that guide my advice here in GenrePunk.Ninja:

• Writers should create long-term, sustainable businesses that allow them to continue to write. Huge, short-term success is less interesting to me than ongoing, moderate success that gives me the freedom to write the things I want to write. 
• Focusing on a core, fundamental business strategy rather than quick hacks will pay off long term. 
• Short-term tactics based on a platform or software that you don’t control aren’t reliable. You want as much direct contact with your core audience as you can get. Social media and other tools will get enshittified in time. 
• Don’t spend money you can’t afford to lose on writing, and control your costs if you publish yourself. If you must spend money, invest in skills and tools that will increase in value over the breadth of your career. 
• Writing is an asset-generation business that favours creating a long backlist, because books and stories are assets you can leverage in multiple different ways. Time is your most valuable asset. 
• Creative practice has a symbiotic relationship with the marketplace for art. It’s hard to consistently produce good work if the marketplace isn’t willing to platform, but the marketplace often responds to innovation. 
• Good art asks us to re-examine something familiar and see it in a new life, whether that’s a genre, a moral question, a piece of technology, or something else. Great writing can rewrite the world, one reader at a time. 
• Art is not sacred, and it sure as shit doesn’t come from the muse. Writing is a craft and anyone can learn the skills. 
• I would prefer to write for something greater than money, but earning money allows me to find new readers and continue creating new work. Both things interest me. 
• Writing is art, but selling your work is a business, and you should treat your fucking business like a business. 

Even if I’m not actually the biggest fan of making money from my art—as mentioned above, I think late stage capitalism is flawed and destructive—but I do like solving problems and learning new things. 

With that in mind, I’ll happily devour business philosophies in the name of earning enough money to let me do my weird-ass thing as a writer. 

SO WHAT’S YOUR PHILOSOPHY?

Figuring out your own philosophy of art can be tricky. Lots of people don’t realise they’ve taken a wrong turn until after the fact, when the results aren’t what they hoped. 

When working with a writer, my first question often isn’t what I believe, but trying to figure out what they believe right now and how I can meet their goals. Sometimes, that means unpacking the hidden assumptions in their goals.

As I wrote long ago, many writers don’t want to get published. They list it as a goal, but it’s short-hand for a more complicated lump of philosophies and desires. 

Looking to level up your writing and publishing? When you’re ready, here are some ways I can help:

1. Books I’ve Written: I’ve got a few books on writing and the writing business, including the collection of some of my best writing advice: You Don’t Want To Be Published and Other Things Nobody Tells You When You First Start Writing.
2. Books I Publish: When I’m not working on my GenrePunk Ninja Projects I’m the editor and publisher behind Brain Jar Press. We’ve published several books and chapbooks about writing, drawing on advice and presentations given by some of the best speculative fiction writers in Australia and beyond.
3. One On One Mentoring: I offer a limited amount of one-on-one mentoring and coaching for writers and publishers, built off two decades of teaching writing and publishing for universities, writers festivals, and non-profit organisations.