Profitable versus Rewarding: Is there a Difference?
By Karina Bartow
We’ve all heard of the saying, “Risk versus Reward,” and for those in any business, that’s a guiding principle. Having always had limited means, I take fewer risks than most in marketing, since, by definition, risks don’t offer guarantees. I’ve had to overcome that to a degree, however, as most everything involved in promoting a book calls for risk, even of one’s time.
A few years ago, I participated in an author’s panel at an event. One of the topics that came up was the profit the majority of authors make. With less experience than the other three, I sat back and listened with eagerness, wondering if my lackluster earnings were a reflection of my work. To my relief, they responded with laughs and jokes, making it clear that my meager royalty checks were not the exception.
The general public mainly hears about the big-name authors who make millions per bestseller. Like with all industries, though, the top of that pyramid is very narrow. Underneath lie a plethora of contemporaries who will never see that kind of net worth. Granted, those results sometimes are a reflection of poor workmanship, but in many cases, it’s just surrounding circumstances. A small-town clothing shop won’t earn the same profit as a designer brand, simply because they won’t have the traffic and exposure. Still, they often have superior products.
The same goes for the writing industry. Today’s world provides numerous forms of entertainment, not to mention probably the widest array of literature society’s ever known. Thus, it’s difficult to attract readers to pick your book out of the growing mountain. Established authors—and celebrities who become authors—have their name and marketing team behind them, so they’re more likely to get that spot on the national news. Such coverage sends readers flocking to their book on the shelves, while yours sits nearby. That’s not a personal affront to you or your work; it just a byproduct of not having a well-known name.
I became keenly aware of this difficultly to stand out at the event I mentioned above, which hosted over 150 authors. The book fair drew in a record high attendance. Organizers expected a couple thousand, as in years past, so I hoped to have a steady flow of traffic at my table. With the vast supply of options, however, many of the booths—including mine—only had occasional visitors throughout the day.
I’d be lying if I said my expectations weren’t met in terms of sales. In truth, it took more money for gas to get there than I made in royalties. As far as “risk versus reward” goes, the reward didn’t win out. Or did it?
Contemplating the experience, I came to realize “rewarding” isn’t always the same as “profitable.” Profits are made in your bank account; rewards are made in your heart. The standout example from the day that illustrated this was a reaction I received from a young girl. She skimmed the synopsis of my novel, Forgetting My Way Back to You, on the back cover, and to my surprise, she clutched it to her chest, telling me how excited she was to read it. During all my years of dreaming about becoming an author, I could merely imagine someone looking at my book that way.
Like every other art form, writing is emotion-driven, and one’s passion for it is what makes you stick to it. Early in my adulthood, I evaluated how writing would fulfill me in comparison with other professions. Because I have Cerebral Palsy, my options were more limited than most people’s, but I had several social workers offering to put me in a job program that would find feasible work for me. Even then, I realized positions like those they could give me would probably yield more than taking a crack at composing a novel, but they wouldn’t enrich me in the same way.
To this day, I have no regrets about my choice. Sure, making a sale is gratifying—and a relief when you have to pay off your inventory—but more than that, I enjoy hearing how my work affects readers. I spend months at my desk, crafting characters and plot twists, and I wonder how they’ll translate to someone else. When somebody shares that a scene made them laugh or touched them in a special way, that’s the moment I value most.
Of course, we all need to make a living, and warm fuzzy feelings don’t pay bills. If your goal is to have writing as your primary career, opportunities that go belly-up cause frustration. In certain cases, you have to chalk it up as a lesson learned, and there’s nothing wrong in deciding not to take a particular opportunity because it wasn’t advantageous.
For you aspiring authors, don’t start a novel to rake in a six- or seven-digit paycheck. It probably won’t happen. That’s why, as my panel agreed, writers have to enjoy their craft and find fulfillment in the dirty work—namely the solitary hours of typing and imagining. Cherish a reader’s glee when he/she discovers your works or falls in love with a character. Take the time to impart why you love what you do to young ones. Those are the real rewards of writing.
Karina Bartow grew up and still lives in Northern Ohio. Though born with Cerebral Palsy, she’s never allowed her disability to define her. Rather, she’s used her experiences to breathe life into characters who have physical limitations, but like her, are determined not to let them stand in the way of the life they want. Her works include Husband in Hiding, Brother of Interest, Forgetting My Way Back to You, and Wrong Line, Right Connection. She may only be able to type with one hand, but she writes with her whole heart!