Death to Competition

An opinion piece on social media's impact on indie publishing.

Competition should not exist in the indie publishing industry.

I’ve seen this sentiment structured in many different ways, yet toxic competitiveness still pervades the industry, a corroding thread threatening its already fragile unity. Most of us learn to adjust or even partake, but does anyone else stop to consider why? 

As a person who built their company from the ground up, inspired by the “grassroots” spirit I witnessed in the writing communities of social media sites like Twitter, I have thought a lot about this topic. In building up my company and following, I shifted the landscape so drastically that I couldn’t ignore it. So I did what I do best: observe and analyze. For those readers who know me on a personal level, the Virgo was Virgo-ing. 

As human beings, we all have basic needs and instincts that drive us to satisfy those needs. Of some of these base tendencies, we all have an innate need to be loved. Some seek this out through conventional means, but others seek it through external validation. They thrive on the validation of others to soothe that inner voice that tells them they are not good enough or worthy of the things they need. We all have it to a degree because it stems from our base instinct to be loved. In some types, however, this instinct goes awry. Without veering too far off-topic into psychology, you can easily see this pathology displayed on social media sites. 

Compounded is the often insurmountable imposter syndrome that affects creatives regularly. Writers needing to be validated by their peers and industry professionals take to social media sites already driven by attention-hungry souls and feed by any means necessary. Unfortunately, the crumbs that fuel others never satisfy these types. It’s not good enough to be just a good writer—they must be the best writer. This is achieved in many different ways. Those seeking traditional publication can land themselves an agent and spend their days writing blog posts such as “I Got My Agent in 10 Different Steps.” Indies often align themselves with successful/popular people, apply for awards, and submit to vanity anthologies. They join cliques and tear down their peers to lift themselves. Another tried and true method is screaming into the Twitter void about how wonderful you are and encouraging others to do the same. 

But perhaps the worst way writers attempt to garner validation and attention is by starting a press themselves. These types can position themselves at the tiptop, relishing in self-made power and prestige. They can talk down to their fellow writers, edit their own vanity anthologies, complain about the workload, and brag to anyone who listens how wonderful they are. Yes, feel free to poke me a little here. People often do. I never said I was perfect, but the point my self-titled adversaries seem to miss is: I never went out on a quest for external validation. I just wanted to get my books into the hands of readers; I receive love and support to build self-worth from good people in my life. As a 6’0 female who some consider attractive—(listen, I love ya’ll, but all I see is bug eyes and a big nose)—I’ve been blocking unwanted attention my entire life. I started my press to give back, to share the attention I already get. This is where I believe the foundation of indie publishing should lie. I have repeatedly said this and will continue until I’m blue in the face: publishing is not for accolades! Get into it to give back and lift your fellow man.

It is an altruistic endeavor, not a selfish one. 

I believe that most writers and a few solid publishing people feel this way, too. The problem is those on a quest for King Validation are LOUDER. They take over the social media sphere, a place that feeds off drama and the toxic tendencies of others. You see it every time they jump on the latest publishing outrage, turning against the “other,” even when it doesn’t apply to them, to seem superior. ¹

Then, as if this horrid, churning witches’ brew could not get any worse, let’s throw money into the mix. Altruism already struggles in a capitalist society, its vice-grip squeezing life out of another human instinct: security. We all have to make money to live, and for some of us, its acquisition becomes a lifelong quest. As much as some of us would love to write and publish simply for the hell of it, we still have to pay our bills. ²

So now you have 1. the indie publishing spirit (which is amazing when appropriately channeled), 2. the need to make money, and 3. the need for external validation. And what does this create? Competition. 

Those who argue that “a little competition is good for business”—fine. You’re right. People don’t get to be CEO billionaires by being nice people. They are ruthless, business-centric ego-maniacs. There is no question why the most successful businesses are so competitive; the top-tier publishing houses have monopolized the entire industry by being this way. But the “indie” label usually carries with it a connotation of being anti-“the man,” so why do indie publishers and authors model themselves after the very thing they’re supposed to be against? I would even argue that creativity is the antithesis of capitalism. Creativity is emotional, spiritual, fluid. It doesn’t fit in a nice little money-making box for people to package and sell. It’s more of a rebellious commodity. Therefore, trying to truly honor and nourish the creative spirit within a capitalist structure is extremely difficult. And it takes dismantling the very ego that competitiveness thrives on. 

It has occurred to me that my opinion on competitiveness in the indie community is based on my own observations of social media sites such as Twitter. I believe plenty of professional creatives walk that fine line between altruism and capitalism; they are just more difficult to find. But the concept of social entrepreneurship is valid and should be brought fully into the indie publishing industry where it belongs. It is my open plea that we all (myself included) try to step back and remember why we do what we do: to tell stories. Don’t let our unchecked competitive instincts ruin the very thing we all love. 

And if you don’t love it, please get the fuck outta publishing. 

1. I expand on this in my other blog post, “A Break-Up Letter.”

2. Many early presses were founded as philanthropist endeavors sponsored by wealthy patrons. This isn’t seen much in the social media sphere, but still happens with various religious/political/niche presses.