I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that most literary artists, poets included, try in some way to “write for the market.” But I think this is a sorry way to write literature. Beyond sorry. It’s inane.
While all literature is in a certain sense targeted toward a particular market – try writing science fiction toward a general market or a romantic thriller aimed at whoever chooses to pick it up and read it – I’m not talking about smart demand-side marketing. I’m talking about creative juices flowing down the open vein. In other words, the creative muse doesn’t consult the aggregated public or take opinion polls.
I’m a firm believer in supply-side literature. This is lit that the artist writes without concern for what the market wants. I’ll leave that business to the large publishing houses, who have all virtually quit publishing poetry because “there is no market for it”. In actuality, there is, but it isn’t a profitable market. And profit is king. Isn’t it?
When it comes to truly lasting literature, the market is a white ghost. As faithful as Guinevere.
Markets by definition are transient and fleeting. Therefore, the literary artist who attempts to write for the market will produce literature that is transient and fleeting. It may sell today, but will anyone be able to give it away for free when the copyright expires? Likely not.
Writing For The Market – Good Enough For Will, Good Enough For …
I don’t mean to denigrate writers who write for money. I do that. It’s called ghostwriting. Or copywriting if you don’t believe in ghosts.
Digressions aside, though, the literary artist – as opposed to the ghostwriter, copywriter, and technical writer set – must decide if he is motivated by credits and residual income or by lasting value. Do you want your creations to stand the test of time or to test the standards of the time? You can’t have both (except by brutal accident).
I’m pretty certain William Shakespeare wrote for the market. It just so happened that his market was timeless. Is yours? Unless you are George Lucas, no.
The Only Kind Of Lit That Matters
This is not a rant against commercial markets or commercial literature. I have nothing against John Grisham or Nora Roberts. Billy Collins may have found his audience, but such success cases are rare (and getting rarer). The real issue is, What kind of literature do you want to produce? Are you interested in the temporal kind or name value eternal?
Of course, even aiming at the stars could end you in the gutter. Just because you write for lasting value doesn’t mean you’ll achieve it. You could still go down in history as a skill-less hack. But I still prefer to take my chances by writing the poetry that is within me rather than studying what might be “the next great thing”. When you write the type of literature I am talking about, the supply-side kind, then you stand a chance of being just as timeless as Shakespeare, but you are paving your own path. Good literature may ride on coattails, but great literature never does.
When Augusten Burroughs put Running With Scissors to quill and scroll, he wasn’t aiming for world-class marketing status. When Hunter S. Thompson shocked the world with his marvelous ride, he wasn’t shooting for most popular of the year. He was writing the story within. The only literature that really matters in the long run is supply-side lit. All else is here today, gone tomorrow. I’ll leave the markets for the birds without a perch.
And with that, Merry Christmas from the Supply Side!
I’m not so sure there is any real relationship between “writing for the market” and timelessness. *All* of Bach’s Cantatas were written for the market (most of them are timeless), so too his B Minor Mass and especially the Musical Offering and let’s not even mention Mozart. Just about *all* of Mozart’s music was written for the market.
All of the Elizabethan, Jacobean and Restoration Dramatists were writing for the market. There *were* a few closet dramatists, like Aphra Behn who didn’t write for the market, but their plays are lost or are not all that memorable. The Romantics poets who tried to write for the market (writing Drama) didn’t do so well. Other writers, like Bernard Shaw, did perfectly well.
Then there are the novelists. Some were born to write for the market. Some weren’t, but by dint genius *created* their market. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, ironically, never wanted to be known as the author of Sherlock Holmes. In his case, his genius created the market that he didn’t *want* to write for. He wanted to follow *your* advice, but no one remembers him for his ornate Victorian novels.
You ask: //The real issue is, What kind of literature do you want to produce? Are you interested in the temporal kind or name value eternal?//
I understand what you’re getting at. However, your question presupposes that if one writes the temporal kind of literature (for the market I assume) one isn’t being true to ones talent or genius. This isn’t always the case. Some artists flourish when writing for the market.
I also suggest one other caveat, and that is ones ability to market oneself. I am terrible at marketing myself, but am trying to learn. It’s not enough to be a great artist. Unless the gods smile on you with one silver spoon after another, one also has to be a great marketer. In fact, a mediocre artist can expect to be more successful if he or she is a great self promoter.
(Sorry for writing so much.)
Here’s what I would say. The choice isn’t so much: Am I going to be true to myself or write for the market? The successful artist creates his or her *own* market, then writes for it. If they can’t promote themselves then, as you suggest, they will end up writing for someone else’s market.
Patrick Gillespies last blog post..Critiquing the Critic
Oh, I forgot to add:
I’m glad a found your blog and Merry Christmas!
Patrick Gillespies last blog post..Critiquing the Critic
Thanks for the comments Patrick and the healthy dispute. It isn’t really fair to compare Bach and Mozart to writers today, for a couple of reasons:
In some cultures of the past, if your brand of art didn’t please the king then it likely didn’t please anyone else and you may very well have been out of a job (and possibly a life). Today, you may die a painful death, but that death isn’t literal and there is always a chance of being reborn.
With today’s fragmented delivery systems, marketing has as much to do with finding the right channel as it does with finding the right audience. Unlike when the Beatles achieved international fame. All they needed was Ed Sullivan.
I’d caution you, however, against reading too much into this post. I didn’t mean to leave the impression that if you write for the market then you aren’t being true to yourself. That would be absurd. If your artistic bent is to seek approval from mass markets then I’d say you are being true to yourself by pursuing that route. But the world is full of literature that was popular in its time, but was unable to continue building momentum beyond the author’s life. The opposite could be said of failures during their lifetimes that have since grown more popular.
These things cannot be predicted. The point is, write what is within you and don’t guess at the markets, which are here today and gone tomorrow. I can think of no other place where that message is more relevant than with poetry. Can you?
For You Not Yet
As I write, right now, your mother
is the size of a pea.
She will grow and be born
and not hear of me.
You at this time
do not even exist and only
by luck and grace will you be
if your mother survives
and gets married.
But I write not for your mother
or even right now.
Now knows nothing of me.
Now knows not what I do.
I write for tomorrow, for they
not yet here.
I have written for you.
Copyright 2008 – HARDWOOD-77 Poems, Gary B. Fitzgerald
//The point is, write what is within you and don’t guess at the markets, which are here today and gone tomorrow. I can think of no other place where that message is more relevant than with poetry. Can you?//
What poets or poetry did you have in mind?
I don’t disagree but, to be honest, I can’t think of any poets who are guessing at the markets – unless you’re writing for hallmark (which, by the way, would be a plumb job.) How *does* one get those jobs, anyway? If they paid me enough I would sell out. Wouldn’t you? Just for a little bit?
Patrick Gillespies last blog post..
Gary, nice poem. I usually don’t allow poems in my comments, but it’s relevant to the topic so I’ll allow it.
Patrick, I really didn’t have anyone in particular in mind. It’s just a philosophical mini-treatise.
I’m actually reading a book at the moment called “Chasing Cool: Standing Out in Today’s Cluttered Marketplace” that speaks on a similar topic. While it doesn’t target poetry and the like specifically, it does offer insights to any sort of branding, and make no mistake, any poet who’s wanting to publish and put their name out there is attempting to brand themselves, set themselves apart from every other starving literary type sitting in a cold loft apartment in a forgotten, over-saturated city.
“Markets by definition are transient and fleeting. Therefore, the literary artist who attempts to write for the market will produce literature that is transient and fleeting”
This is absolutely 100% true. But not only will the work produced be given up to the air, but more often than not markets, like trends, are flashy, ten-minute intervals of almost orgasmic bliss–but by the time you’ve realized it and penned a poem for said bliss the trend/market has passed and you’re already behind the curve. A quote from the book says this:
“…all that time yielded one common thread: none of these people (those artists successful in their respective marketing) chased anything. They trusted their guts, put their names on the line, and followed their personal passions…They pursued a vision and, then, somewhere down the road, cool found them.”
Replace the word “cool” with longevity and you can see my point.
Great read, by the way.
Julie
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