You Don’t Need Social Media To Sell Books

The marketing plan for many new writers — including me, way back when — seems to be a weird extension of the Field of Dreams philosophy: if we publish it, readers will come. Good books find their audience. 

Readers believe this too, although they rarely articulate it that way. And it’s not entirely wrong, because reading is a social activity, even if it’s a rather solitary one. Books that get talked about get read, and if they’re talked about enough they become a cultural phenomenon. 

It’s one reason that bookstores and publishers are so enamoured of BookTok at the present moment, where conversations about books can take off fast. 

It’s also the reason reviews are so powerful, and being placed in certain review outlets (especially the ones who are seen to drive conversation) is such a big part of the marketing plan for traditionally published books.

The problem is, it’s hard to manufacture that conversation. There are steps writers can take to encourage it, but you can’t make it happen.

And so the fundamental belief that good books find their audience feels true, even if it means the converse side of the coin — that books that don’t find their audience aren’t good — is going to haunt far more writers in the long run.

Over the years, I’ve met with a lot of writers who lament the fact that “traditional” publishing doesn’t do any marketing. 

I don’t disagree with that statement, but I think it overlooks what old-school velocity publishing does well: creating a buzz about a book before it launches, and selling a good chunk of its print run in the first month.

They don’t do that by running ads or engaging in mass promotion, but by doing their best to get conversations started and whet a reader’s appetite before the release date. 

This can mean they look like they’re not doing anything, especially when viewed through the eyes of slow-build indie authors who have a very different business model (or aspiring authors who dream of getting a big push, and fear that the lack of conversation around their book means it isn’t good).

Which brings us to two of the key issues of author platform: 

1) Publishers know it can create conversation and sell books, but they didn’t always understand how. This led to a few years of authors being told to follow tactics (Blog! Run a newsletter! Be on TikTok!) because it had worked for other authors, with no one really thinking about why it worked. 

2) When new social media emerges and gets hungry for engagement, it will frequently benefit early adopters who use the platform to find new readers. As those platforms are enshittified, the later adopters are working twice as hard for half the impact, but a cargo cult forms around the tactic because everyone knows they need attention and they can’t think how else to find it.

Getting readers talking is essential to what we do as writers, but in the absence of reliable methods (and the presence of big dreams), we fall back on tools that give the illusion of control.

The Problem, As In So Many Things, Is Our Tendency to Mistake Tactics for Strategy

One of my favourite writing books—now dated, but still useful—is Jeff VanderMeer’s Booklife: Strategies and Survival Tips for the 21st-Century Writer. In it, he notes the essential problem with most writers careers.

Because writers often work organically and hate doing mechanical things like detailed novel outlines, they sometimes also shy away from creating actual lists of long-term and short-term career goals… Many writers never progress in their careers — except in a shambling, two-steps-forward-one-step-back way — because they always focus on the moment, and the moment after that. Their maps lack all kinds of details essential for finding their way toward a destination. 

I feel like this is especially true with the way writer approach platform. Ask most writers why they are on social media, and they’ll tell you they need to be there to sell books.

Ask them how their presence sells books, and they may mumble something about building a platform, but very few of them have a plan for transitioning folks from social media audience to active reader.

If you’re lucky, they can point to a tactic previously deployed (and turned into a course) by a particular writer. “Such and such used Facebook adds” or “I did this person’s course on TikTok”. 

Nevermind that the existence of a course usually means that the enshittication of the platforms nigh, and the tactic will be less effective in time.  

Writers either build around social media systems haphazardly and trust in the fates to generate the conversations and interest that eventually leads to sales, or they follow the marketing hooks of someone who is great at marketing and sells them a course.

If we step away from the immediate, tactical question of which tool to use and inst4ead focus on what we typically want from those tools, the strategy behind most author platforms is pretty easy to break down: 

  1. Generate leads that introduce new readers to our work

  2. Nurture those leads to turn interested readers into book buyers

  3. Nurture those buyers to transform them into readers.

  4. Build those readers into a community (or fandom) that generates conversations that, in turn, creates leads for more readers. 

Indie authors who have been inundated with newsletter advice might have a lightbulb go off reading that list, recognising the basic philosophy of the newsletter sales funnel. 

For everyone else, here’s how that plays out:

  • A writer sets up a newsletter and invites people to join said list. Often this involves offering an enticement, such as a free book, which serves as a lead magnet. This magnet will draw a small amount of attention from folks already interested in your work, but you can multiply its drawing power through tools like advertising, newsletter promos, and other marketing that puts your offer in front of fresh eyes.

  • Readers who join the newsletter get the free book and then hear from the writer semi-regularly (or very regularly). Often writers will establish an automatic welcome sequence, or a series of emails that go out to new subscribers, gradually introducing unfamiliar readers to the author’s works and the author themselves.

  • Once these readers are integrated into the newsletter readership, they’re dipped into a series of offers as details about new releases, sales and other discounts, and the occasional timely reminder of backlist titles. Some readers may not stick around after the initial few emails, but that’s fine—you’re aiming to speak to the readers who do, turning them into fans.

It’s one way of implementing the core strategy I talk about above, but not the only way. 

The same strategy is in play when writers attempt to sell books on social media (create leads by posting content people repost, gradually convince people to follow you regularly, and then direct your audience to the books you release).

Ditto the way traditional velocity publishers use reviews (create leads by giving arcs to taste-makers who have an audience, who then create leads with potential readers by reviewing about the book. If enough reviews and conversation starts, you generate buzz in the core community of readers for that genre, which then spills over to readers on the fringe and the general public. 

Same core strategy, very different tactics. Which leads us to the core question that few writers really ask: 

What tactic generates the strongest leads for your business model with the least expenditure of resources?

For some people, this might be social media. I hesitate to say it, because some folks hear that and think they’re going to be the exception to the rule, but there are routinely authors who leverage social platforms and take off. 

Often they’re there early, before the enshittification kicks in, or they figure out how to make use of a newly introduced feature or approach to the platform. Social media can also work if there’s strong, existing communities on the platform who can be enticed into checking out your work.

But if you’re a writer who doesn’t particularly enjoy social media—or, worse, a writer who easily falls down the algorithm hole and doom scrolls when you’d rather e writing—then the resource cost is probably not worth the leads your generating.

Because here’s the thing about social media, when viewed as a broad swathe: most platforms are great at generating conversation, but they’re terrible for organic lead generation. There is value to them in being the place where people gather and spend time, but much less in giving away the kind of attention that lets people off the platform.

It’s the step that lots of writers miss when they bitch about the algorithm sending their stupid, random-thought-at-two-AM tweet viral then chokes down the attention when they try to post about their books.

Which means that an organic social media presence still has a part to play in your author platform, but it’s best considered as a secondary tool. A method of nurturing readers, rather than generating leads. Social media works best with the people already interested in you, especially if they’re engaged enough to magnify your reach and repost when you do reach out to newer readers.

YOU DON’T NEED TO BE ON SOCIAL MEDIA AS A WRITER, BUT YOU SHOULD HAVE A PLAN TO GENERATE LEADS

So, the good news is that you don’t need to be on social media as a writer. The bad news is that you do need some way of generating leads and connecting with new readers, especially if you’re an indie author.

Fortunately, it’s possible to generate leads without social media. When you really think about it, social media platforms and review generation and a host of other marketing methods really revolve around borrowing someones audience. 

If Facebook was used by 200,000 daily visitors, instead of two billion, then it wouldn’t be as valuable. They have an audience of users, and marketers (authors and otherwise) want access to that audience, so they pay the toll in the farm of cold hard cash (ads) or sweat equity (organic content) in order to access these readers.

But magazines have readers. Reviewers have readers. Your local community hall has an audience, as does your local book club. Conventions and events are places where hardcore readers gather, and they’re much more likely to buy books than a hundred folks you spruik your book to on social media. 

Generating leads is basically putting yourself out there in front of audiences, and they don’t need to be large. In fact, a small, passionate group of people who are close to perfect for your book can be worth as much as a large crowd where only a handful of people might be on your wavelength. 

One of my focuses for 2026 is writing and submitting short faction to magazine markets, because a) those folks have audiences who are predisposed to like what I do, and b) has secondary effects beyond finding new readers (I get paid, I’ve created stories that can now be collected into books).

Is it guaranteed to work? Not at all. I could invest a whole lot of time into writing some stories, and its possible none of them will be picked up by an editor. That’s always a risk, but it’s mitigated by the fact I can always use stories in other ways (lead magnets for newsletter promos, collections, free giveaways to nurture my existing readers).

That, for me, is the key of those options. It’s considerably harder to re-use a less-than-successful social media post in the same way (although not impossible — having a second life for popular social media posts is pretty much the modus operandi of my mech store).

Stories aren’t the only outreach I’m doing. Blogging is a method of lead generation too—slower, I’ll grant, but occasionally more useful as years of people linking to various blog posts have shown. I’ll be making use of newsletter swaps. As we get towards the second half of the year, and the expenditures of 2025 are paid off, I’ll even start getting back to paid lead generation in the form of advertising.

All of them take less effort than “being on social media,” and typically offer more bang for my back in terms of the time I invest in doing these things versus the number of readers they actually attract.

There’s nothing wrong with making your lead generation an online feed, so long as you’re conscious of what you want your online presence to do and you’ve got the time and resources to invest in it.

It’s not what I’d recommend, outside of riding the new user wave of the occasional platform, but every writer finds their own path.

What’s important is remembering that social media is a tactic, not the entirety of the strategy. If you’re not enjoying being on Facebook, Threads, TikTok, or whatever the lastest site is—or, worse, you’re discovering that it eats into your writing time—there are other methods of generating leads that can be just as effective.

You just need to think strategically, and find the tactic that works best for you.


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

Patronage: Want to ask me questions directly and be part of a great writing community? Join the GenrePunk Ninja Patreon!

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.

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.

When The Algorithm Doesn’t Love You Anymore

Here’s a dirty secret I rarely say out loud as a writer: I don’t want you to friend me on Facebook.

I don’t want you to follow me on Threads or Twitter or Instagram. I sure as fuck don’t give a shit if you’re following me on TikTok. 

I’m on all these places, and I’ll engage with you if they’re the only choice, but they’re not my primary focus.

As a writer, I’ve got three top tiers of engagement: I want you to subscribe to my newsletter. If that’s a no-go, the second-best choice is joining my Patreon. The third choice—just—is following my YouTube. Maybe, as a last resort, I’d taken a follow on BlueSky.

Why? Because everything listed in that first paragraph are increasingly algorithmically driven. A follow there is next to worthless to me, because the For You page or “content we think you’d like” has taken over the follower feed.

I’m interested in actual followers, who’ll hear from me regularly. Email is still an old-school follow. Patreon, for various reasons, is much the same. YouTube is algorithmic as hell these days, but at least has the Subscriptions section where you can get updates from folks directly.

And for a writer—heck, for any artist—an old-school follow is the most valuable thing there is.

I miss the old-school follow. I’d still be talking about Facebook et al. with affection if they still offered something like it.

But they don’t, even if so many writers still produce content for social media like it’s 2007.

THE MAGIC OF THE FOLLOW

The founder of Patreon, Jack Conte, spent much of 2024 giving speeches about the Death of the Follow and how it will affect creators who rely on the internet.

If you’re unfamiliar with his work, Conte is an interesting case study. Before he was the CEO of a tech platform, he was a musician who broke out on YouTube as both a solo artist and one half of Pomplamoose. If you were online in 2010, you probably encountered some of their covers (I’m still a big fan of their version of All The Single Ladies).

Conte is still a working musician on top of running Patreon, and he created Patreon to solve a problem he saw with the way YouTube was changing as the platform matured.

There’s two things writers and other creative artists typically want from social media:

  • We want to reach people who don’t know about us and tell them about our work.
  • We want to build our following and keep talking to the people who like our work.

Buttons that allowed users to follow or subscribe to us on social media, Conte argues, were the revolutionary part of Web 2.0. It allowed people who liked what we did to sign up and hear from us repeatedly. It gave writers, musicians, and other artists a distribution channel that ensured future work was sent to people most likely to be receptive to it.

“The follow is not some handy feature of a social network,” Conte says. “It’s foundational architecture for human creativity and organisation… Not just reach, but a step past it. Ongoing communication, connection, a sustained relationship. Community.” (Jack Conte, Death of the Follower: SXSW 2024 Keynote)

The Follow allowed small creators to reach a dedicated group of fans and build up their profile. It allowed books to succeed that wouldn’t otherwise.

I ran pretty hot on my author platform in that era and saw its effects first-hand: small press books that sold out print runs unexpectedly; ideas that went viral because they were shared and re-shared by people who enjoyed the way I thought and wrote.

But large chunks of the internet don’t work like that anymore.

I wish it did.

Because here’s the thing: The follow is magic for creators.

It’s not so good for social media platforms.

THE ERA OF RANKING AND ALGORITHMIC FEEDS

There’s a simplicity to the old-school follow: a user says, “I’d like to see more from this user,” and then they see more. Every post is displayed on the feed as it goes live, and they can track what their favourite creators (and their friends, and their loved ones, and their favourite burger place) are doing day to day.

Here’s the problem: most people aren’t that interesting twenty-four hours of the day. Or they’re not showing up and talking about the things you love all the time.

And social media needs to be interesting. It needs to reward you with stuff you absolutely want to engage with every time you log on, because the money in social media lies in having a large user base who shows up often, giving you data and reach that can be sold to advertisers.

Facebook started messing with the feed around 2009 to 2012, moving away from a solid timeline and towards an algorithmic feed. They’d survey all the posts made by folks you followed, and feed you the ones that were getting the most engagement and interest from other people. Stuff nobody engaged with was more likely to get hidden.

Instantly, a follow became less useful. Largely because, in those nascent days of the internet, stuff that got engagement was often realising a chunk of your friends group were not who you thought (2013 was the peak era of friends engaging in comment-fights with the vague acquaintances whose racism and sexism was exposed).

Over time, Facebook got good at showing you folks you weren’t following, who were still interesting. Then it got good at showing you paid ads that held your attention and kept you on the platform. Soon you could idle away whole days engaging with vaguely interesting stuff that tapped into a part of your identity and fed it.

That shit was insidious, but effective. Great for Facebook. Less great for us. 

A few years after that, we had TikTok, which disposed of the follower feed altogether. The default there became pure algorithm—the For You page—where a constant stream of stuff you’re probably interested in rolls past in a series of six seconds videos.

And because algorithmic feeds worked, everyone adopted them. Facebook’s innovation begat similar tools on Twitter and Instagram and Threads. Suddenly, you had to pay to reach your followers, or feed a steady stream of high-engagement content into your social media.

And here’s the thing about the algorithm: it favours a small percentage of creators who reliably get traction with posts. It randomly gives attention on another subset of creators, based upon the needs of the algorithm. As Cory Doctrow notes in his essay on the Enshittification of TikTok, the platform will often artificially inflate the presence of a new users’ videos on the For You page to convince them of the platform’s value. 

Then, shit goes wrong.

Once those performers and media companies are hooked, the next phase will begin: TikTok will withdraw the “heating” that sticks their videos in front of people who never heard of them and haven’t asked to see their videos. TikTok is performing a delicate dance here: There’s only so much enshittification they can visit upon their users’ feeds, and TikTok has lots of other performers they want to give giant teddy-bears to.

Tiktok won’t just starve performers of the “free” attention by depreferencing them in the algorithm, it will actively punish them by failing to deliver their videos to the users who subscribed to them. After all, every time TikTok shows you a video you asked to see, it loses a chance to show you a video it wants you to see, because your attention is a giant teddy-bear it can give away to a performer it is wooing. (The ‘Enshittification’ of TikTok, Cory Doctrow)

From there, you enter a cycle. Random bursts of attention to make it feel like the algorithm is favouring you, followed by long stretches where your reach is throttled to entice users into coughing up cash.

WHAT’S THE ACTUAL BENEFIT HERE?

Here’s my problem with the current state of social media: writers and other artists still treat it like an old-school follower platform. I’m certainly guilty of it, spending days creating month-long posting schedules to maximize the reach of my content and try to prompt engagement.

And, as ever, the problem isn’t that social media has no benefit. The fluctuating algorithmic reach is still potentially useful and can feed readers towards work. It allows you to cultivate fans over time, especially the small subset of followers who actively show up and engage with everything you post.

I’m not saying get the hell off social media, just because it’s algorithmic.

I simply started thinking about the return on investment with regard to that time, and how I could maximize it.

I want to loop back to the two goals writers typically have with social media use, mentioned at the start of this entry:

  • We want to reach people who aren’t familiar with our work.
  • We want to build our following and talk to people who like our work.

Algorithmic social media is terrible at building a following and connecting you with your followers, but it has an upside: a For You page or algorithmic feed is very good at putting your content in front of people who might be interested in your work.

That has a benefit to us as writers, especially in the early days of a platform before the enshittification has really set in. TikTok in 2020 was an incredible lead generation tool, just as Facebook was in its earlier days.

My concern isn’t that it can’t do these things, but that it can’t do these things as effectively as other options.

As noted back when I looked at the capital exchanges inherent in social media, it makes more sense to run adds or use lead-generation tools like newsletter swaps that feed potential readers into a tool where they can still follow me (like a newsletter) than it does to spend six to eight hours generating posts to do the same job organically.

YOUR NEW MINDSET: DE-PLATFORM LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER

I spend a lot of time listening to other authors talk about how they use social media, and as someone who mentors other writers a lot, I spend a lot of time doing courses about how to maximize engagement on platforms and use it to drive readership.

I think it’s important to understand these platforms and use them; I just think we need to engage with a different goal. To borrow a phrase from social media guru Justin Welsh:

Social media is one of the best to master because you can gain attention and then slowly de-platform prospects and customers to something you own – like an email list. (Why People Fail On Social Media, JustinWelsh.me)

If I’m showing up on a social media platform in a professional capacity as a writer or publisher, this is pretty much my goal. I want to get people to leave Facebook or Threads or Instagram, and go to a platform where the Old School Follow is still in effect.

A place where I can clear away the noise of a thousand other posts and the clatter of algorithmic distractions, and talk to readers who actively say, “yes, talk to me more about this thing we’re both interested in.”

Email lists are old-school tech, and so clunky that lots of people devalue them or outsource their creation to “free” services like Substack, but the truth is they’re the most effective follow-based tools writers have these days (and, in terms of data they can generate, even more effective when you learn to use them well).

Every writer finds their own way of doing this. Some use ads to drive people to free reader magnets—and I certainly do a lot of that. I’m also putting a lot more writing up on blogs, creating hubs where I can capture followers (newsletters, Patreon) and use engagement on social media as tendrils that reach out and snare potential readers like kraken plucking sailors off the deck of a ship.

It’s slow and steady work, but ultimately less disheartening than fighting the algorithm for each new release. 100 followers who engage with you regularly often prove to be far more valuable than a thousand follows on a social media site where you need likes and reposts to find other people.


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

Patronage: Want to ask me questions directly and be part of a great writing community? Join the GenrePunk Ninja Patreon!

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.

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.