This matters more than a book deal

In light of the literary exposé in this weekend's Observer, revealing the real story behind The Salt Path, it feels increasingly important to nurture an honest relationship with our readers.

In case you missed it: an investigative piece published in this weekend’s Observer revealed that large parts of bestselling ‘memoir’ and major film The Salt Path are, in fact, not true at all. Memoirists feel let down; readers, even more so.

Last week, I wrote the piece that you’re about to read with no mention of the above, because although I had just finished reading The Salt Path, I hadn’t yet discovered that it’s partly fiction. Now, the message I wanted to share feels even more important.

This essay is about how we place too much emphasis on traditional publishing and too little emphasis on the practice of writing, the act of creating and sharing our art - and the importance of our readers; our community. These are the people who matter.

And so, as writers, we ought to honour and respect our relationship with our readers above everyone else. To write with integrity so that we can be read with integrity. To put the reader, rather than the publisher, on a pedestal.

Here’s the original piece I wrote…

This matters more than a book deal

It’s no secret that I’d like one of my poetry collections to be traditionally published. I write about it all the time. It nearly happened, with a major publisher, but then it didn’t. It nearly happened with an independent publisher, but I changed my mind.

Right now, I’m in pitching mode. I’m speaking with publishers and agents and although the conversations are open and potentially on-going, I haven’t yet signed on the dotted line (though, I have a very exciting phone call booked in for tomorrow).

Meanwhile, I’m spending every morning sat outside my child’s classroom, because my child who was homeschooled for a year is now slowly returning. It’s going very well and for this, I’m grateful, proud and feel too many emotions to list right now.

But the work required to get to this point has meant seriously slowing down my career. Doing the bare minimum rather than the absolute maximum. Sometimes, I like this slower pace. Sometimes, I feel like I’m disappearing.

I catch myself.

This is temporary. This is necessary. This is the story; this is the chapter. I have slowed down my work before. I have also shifted my focus in different directions. And I’ve always returned with new vigour and determination.

Any break from your career - a holiday, the maternity period (not a break, per se, but usually time away from paid employment) - gives you a new perspective. The career is a machine, and when you step away from it, you can see how those cogs are turning.

However, another thought I’ve had is: If I could just get that poetry book deal secured, I would know that I’m still on track. That I’m still moving forwards with my career. That I’m still allowed to have dreams, while I mother in this deep and intense way.

But then today, while writing a poem, I had this profound realisation about our relentless pursuit for validation and what else we need, too. I cast my mind to other successful writers and I realised: I’ve been getting it wrong about this book deal.