I am in a perfect New York apartment. Curated artworks of dancing figures, a pristine coffee machine, the classic SMEG bright blue toaster and matching kettle. A mixture of house plants littering the nooks and crannies as the city sunlight streams in and illuminates this space which looks as though it is straight out of pinterest. Curated by an algorithm to look like an idea of what many would describe as ‘perfect’.
It does look perfect, and probably would be if I were there, except I am not really in New York, or in that flat. I am watching someone, an influencer, describe how they have been sent out by one of the largest publishing companies to finish (or start?) their book. Sigh. There is a certain shame in feeling irked by someone else’s success. Surely we should be happy for other people, but there are times when social media, and what brand deals they end up embodying, signify the death of something else. In this instance, it is the death of the writer.
These people, these influencers, have been slowly permeating the creative world, invited to art openings to boost coverage, magazine launches to widen engagement. The influencers online persona entering into brand deals with high and low fashion houses. They are walking adverts, and what is so precious about the influencer for brands, businesses and industries is they already have a collection of admirers who will willingly lap up whatever they decide to promote. It is a fail-safe marketing campaign. I can see why, in an age of AI, and when less people are physically reading, such a risk-adverse approach to finding new voices has bled into how publishers do business
Really, it should not irk me, but enthuse me. Instill some optimism that the giant corporate hand of AI will not swoop in and rub out physical literature.
However, there is arguably a plethora of issues in publishers acquiring new literature in this manner. This ‘brand deal’ between publisher and influencer asks an important question for emerging writers. Do we have to be chronically online to publish a book, or to find an audience which will read it?
It goes back to the ideal of the writer. Throughout popular culture, in films, books, and radio shows the writer has been a mystical, chain smoking depressive. Undeniably ‘cool’ as they lurk in the shadows, making an occasional well rounded social analysis on a situation. Writing their books and poetry in pained silence and solitude. Think Johnny Depp in The Rum Diary, or Jude Law in Closer. Both portray the laissez-faire of the writer, and there is an element that this aesthetic is what a lot of upcoming writers aspire to.
But it goes beyond just aesthetics and leans into what society is deciding to value as hard work. As a child, everyone is told that hard work will pay off. Pour your heart into something, and there will be bags of gold at the end of the rainbow.
The new development in publishing of finding talent through the web of social media profiles, prioritising the number of followers over the actual content risks the loss of an entire generation of writers, and talent. The generation which does not want to be ‘online’, or cannot make ‘online’ work for them will inevitably lose out on a dream, no matter how hard they work. Their voices risk being lost in the sea of louder, follower backed narratives.
Writers, and creatives more widely, are already being exploited by AI. Chatbots are trained using scripts, novels, articles, and poems and the author gets nothing for the use of their work, except making their enemy (AI) stronger and more cognizant.
Pushing writers to have to make their books commodifiable, or ‘Tik Tok friendly’ has also reduced our own cognisance. As I browse the books in Waterstones, or Daunt Books if I am feeling rich, each book is shorter. For example, the length of American best-sellers has decreased by 51 pages in the last decade. Books also are prioritised for how easy it would be to read them, or how they might lend themselves to a 30 second video.
It seems as though we have well and truly entered the age of the ‘influ-writer’, where quantity, followers, sales and money making have overtaken the appreciation of a piece of writing, and the art of the writing process more specifically has been well and truly lost in translation.
It is not an anger at the influencer’s who are getting these deals and opportunities, but a disappointment in the industries which are allowing themselves, and their content, to become dominated by dopamine, likes and consumable content rather than talent, hard work and dedication to an art form.
Words by Iona Lowe
Want more Books content from The Indiependent? Click here
Support The Indiependent
We’re trying to raise £200 a month to help cover our operational costs. This includes our ‘Writer of the Month’ awards, where we recognise the amazing work produced by our contributor team. If you’ve enjoyed reading our site, we’d really appreciate it if you could donate to The Indiependent. Whether you can give £1 or £10, you’d be making a huge difference to our small team.