Thursday 31 July 2008

A matter of luck

I see the new Booker prize longlist contains five first novels, or at least five first-published novels. One wishes the writers luck. Luck is a big element in a writer's success; that is, success in making a living as a novelist rather than succes d'estime, although that is very nice.

No one knows just how many published authors there are. But there must be a lot of them. More than 10,000 authors are registered with the office of Public Lending Right, which pays them a fee when their books are borrowed from public libraries. The Society of Authors publishes a list of several hundred new members in its quarterly magazine, so the profession, if that is what it is, continues to thrive. What nearly all these authors have in common, apart from being published, is that they are unknown. They do not have the instant recognition granted to the relatively small number of authors of bestsellers. You’re a writer? How interesting. Do you write under your own name?

Unknown writers sometimes become known, like the five in the Booker longlist, but usually only briefly and to a small audience. After a few flattering reviews, they mostly return to normal obscurity. And there are writers who, while not unknown are only vaguely known. Didn’t he/she write ..? Anything else? Don’t think so. Books by the vaguely known may linger hopefully in bookshops long beyond their sell-by date, libraries are reluctant to throw them away and they may have an afterlife in charity shops. But it has to be said that most unknowns, and even the vaguely known, make little money from their books. But somebody loves them, or did love them and, possibly, will love them again.

The unknown tend not to love the well-known. Human envy, course. Each story of some fellow writer’s fabulous earnings feeds the envy. But famous writers you may encounter at literary parties grumble about their deals, about the pittances they are paid for writing book reviews to keep their name known, and how much they pay in tax. It is all quite cheering to an unknown writer who has a proper job, with a cheque coming in every month, paid-for holidays and is at peace with the taxman.

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