Is It Still Worth It for Writers to Put Up with All the Bullshit?
The system that produces books, movies, and TV shows used to kinda sorta work. I'm not sure it still does.
No one ever said a career in the arts was easy.
After almost thirty years as a professional novelist and screenwriter, I’ve discovered that the book and movie industries are less “meritocracies” than I expected when I first started out — less about “talent” and “originality,” and more about drive, hustle, timing, and plain, old-fashioned luck.
But is anyone truly surprised by this? Humans are, well, human. Plus, we professional artists are trying to make a living doing inherently enjoyable activities — activities that many people do for free. Of course, there’s going to be insane competition for that gig.
At the same time, I’ve also long thought the system kinda sorta worked. Great books, movies, and TV shows regularly got published and produced, and sometimes they even found massive audiences. Fresh blood was absolutely a thing, and break-out success wasn’t a complete pipe-dream.
I still don’t like the bullshit of the creative industries — the indignities and humiliations that most writers must regularly endure. But here’s something I don’t always like to admit: all the rejection I’ve endured over the years taught me incredible focus and discipline, and it really forced me to hone my craft.
In short, it’s been worth it for me — both financially and creatively — to put up with all the bullshit.
But lately, I’m wondering if this is still true.
Consider:
Hollywood movie and TV-making are in absolute free-fall. In a recent, excellent New York Times article about the state of Hollywood in 2024, Mark Harris writes, “Writers and producers pitching projects are being warned to keep expectations at basement level: Nobody’s buying, everybody’s cutting costs, caution rules, and the boom times are over. … As one agent put it to me, ‘A lot of us are feeling like we’re working in the aftermath of an industry, not in an industry.’”
New York publishing is facing a different set of issues, but things are no less grim. Certain books are still selling — non-fiction like self-help and political books tied to the upcoming election, and, of course, any book that goes viral on TikTok. But entire genres, like middle grade fiction, are evaporating before our eyes. As one agent recently put it on Threads, “I don't mean to be bleak about it (okay, maybe I do), but we're hitting the point where I don't know how to sell [middle grade] or [young adult] effectively. Imprints are disappearing. Editors are leaving or being let go. Submissions are backlogged beyond what's acceptable. And I know it's not just me. Every agent I talk to (people I respect deeply with equal or more experience than me) are all frustrated.”
Last year, I wrote how incredibly dire things were for writers of fiction — both novelists and screenwriters.
I think things are even worse now. All this new “disruptive” technology? It’s disrupted everything in New York and Hollywood.
Which has me seriously questioning the fundamental assumption of my career: I’ll put up with all this bullshit — if there’s a reasonable chance it will pay off in the end.
Is there still a reasonable chance? In fact, I sometimes write middle grade fiction, and I have the first book completed in a series that I think is easily some of the best, most entertaining writing I’ve ever done.
But my own (wonderful) literary agent has told me flat-out, “I love it, but I can’t sell it. No editor is even reading middle grade fiction right now. Maybe if you turned it into a graphic novel — those are still selling.”
Meanwhile, I’ve got five movie projects in development right now, and four of them are completely dead in the water.
Look, I’m trying hard not to be too depressing here. But I’ve also always prided myself on going through life as clear-eyed as possible.
Of course, things could — probably will — pick up again eventually, at least in some form. The New York Times’ Mark Harris writes about this too:
The [movie and TV] industry has, for the past four years, been wondering when it can get back to normal, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that there may be no such thing. There is only forward to something new. The industry is about to find out what that might look like.
In the ashes of last year, an outline of this new normal started to emerge. It’s a landscape that consists not of just big studios (this isn’t the 1950s) or big studios competing with upstart indies that steal their awards (this isn’t the 1990s) but of a mix of new and old models: studios; indies; streamers like Apple, Amazon and Netflix; and the kind of out-of-nowhere hits, faith-based movies and red-state phenomena like Sound of Freedom that keep taking people on the coasts by surprise.
And when I say that the current media landscape is dissolving right before our eyes, I mean legacy media: Hollywood movie-making and New York publishing. Regular readers know that I think massive opportunities still exist in new media.
Which is why I’m seriously wondering if I should be devoting any energy to novels and screenplays right now. Maybe I should only be focused on my various new media projects, like the newsletter you’re reading right now, and this one, which is how I currently make most of my money.
On the other hand, the future of one of my five film projects still looks okay. The producers even tell me they might film in October.
And I do love the story of that middle grade novel of mine — so maybe I’ll take my agent up on her suggestion to turn it into a graphic novel. Does anyone know a good graphic artist?
Hey, I’m nothing if I’m not persistent!
Or maybe I’m just really, really stupid.
Brent Hartinger is a screenwriter and author. Check out his other newsletter about his travels at BrentAndMichaelAreGoingPlaces.com.
This makes me sad as I really like your fiction…but in all honesty not as interested in your Substacks.
If your questions are not rhetorical, then I would say: yes, keep putting different irons in the fire. Definitely pursue what's paying off now, but stick some eggs in other baskets (gotta love my cliched metaphors here!) because things keep changing.
For myself, I've stepped back from writing for publication. The industry contracting (always contracting; it seems like it has been in a perpetual End Times for decades now [and ironically some of those decades are now seen as golden eras!]), the ever-shifting and energy-sucking landscape of promotional activities, and the ever-growing sea of available art by so many others made me really wonder: Do I really need to do this? Would anyone miss me if I left this party that has gotten so noisy and crowded and run out of food?
I had the luxury (by design) of not depending on writing for my income. And it's been a relief to leave the party. But I do hope the party continues, and I wish other writers well, and I want writing and reading to thrive. I am an avid reader, and I hope books don't become a rare, niche form of art.
And yet, to be optimistic here: writing does seem to have become more ubiquitous, even if people don't read as many books. People stare at screens all day long. And they're staring at a lot of pictures, sure, but humans also crave story. And even a video may need a script (or at least an outline). Blogs, and then newsletters and podcasts, became new ways for people to absorb stories. TV series still capture people's attention. The form that our stories take, and the way these stories find an audience, seems always to be in flux, but underneath is that enduring longing for story.