Call me naive if you want, but I don’t think there has to be a conflict between artistic integrity and commercial success.  If anyone should know, it’s probably me because, miracle of miracles, I’ve managed to achieve no small degree of financial stability by writing about vampires, robots, demon ducks, and cannibal witches.  I did believe that it was possible to get paid to write those stories, but I never hoped on being anything more than a guy who wrote obscure fantasy novels.  Even that, I now realize, was ridiculously optimistic.

But here I am.

I’m certainly not a household name, but I’m doing all right.  Better than I ever expected.  I have seven published novels (when the heck did that happen?).  I have three of books optioned for movies, and even if none of them end up going anywhere, that’s still pretty damn cool.  Just getting a book optioned amazes me.  I never planned on that, never even thought it worth considering.  But there it is, and I have the check stubs and fan mail to prove it.

Like all aspiring writers, I took some time to consider just where I should put my efforts.  Should I write something that spoke to me?  Or should I try to be commercial?

Initially, my choice was to write something that would satisfy me.  My first manuscripts were experimental, awkward beasts as I learned to write.  I figured they wouldn’t be any good, and that would be okay.  I gave myself permission to just write for me and see where it went.  After I got the hang of this storytelling stuff, then I’d worry about whether I was commercial enough or not.  A funny thing happened along the way though.  I never really tried to be commercial.

Writing is a tough biz, and being an aspiring writer is a rough, discouraging endeavor.  Inevitably, you will be told you aren’t doing it right or that your story is difficult to sell.  Never mind that all first manuscripts are a hard sell and that every trend had to start with someone saying something along the lines of, “Hey, maybe people will want to read an epic seven novel series about a boy wizard.”

People tend to forget that Harry Potter didn’t instantly set the publishing world on fire, and I can guarantee you that Rowling’s powerhouse success was preceded by plenty of rejection.  I don’t know for certain, but I do suspect that at least one of those rejections said, “Not Commercial Enough.”

When it comes to commercial success and marketability, I’m not sure anyone knows anything.  It’s all just guesswork.  Writers, agents, editors, artists, and marketing departments all work hard to try and figure it out, but I think everyone’s just digging in the dark.  Sometimes, you strike gold.

If we set aside the tremendous luck factor that is necessary for even the greatest artist to achieve recognition (much less commercial success,) I think there’s a false dichotomy in the entire premise that one can only be financially successful at the cost of one’s own artistic vision.  If we remove the nebulous definition of what constitutes “quality writing”, we find, more often than not, commercial success comes when an artist does what they want to do.  The quality of the Twilight novels might be up for debate, but I don’t doubt that Stephenie Meyer was writing something she felt worth writing.  James Cameron’s Avatar isn’t a surprising story, but I know that Cameron was invested, as an artist, in telling it.

Personally, I hate the question of commercial VS artistic.  I hate it because it assumes there’s a wall between the artist and the audience, that there’s an innate difference in people who fill each of these roles.  It’s true the artist’s job is to connect with the audience, but this doesn’t have to mean dumbing it down.  Commercial success doesn’t have to mean “stupid” or “soulless”.  Just as commercial failure doesn’t automatically mean “avante garde.”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to editing my moon monster novel.  Not only do I fully expect it will make me a billion dollars sometime in the near future, but it’ll also touch your soul.

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