Gold or Glory

By Ashley Lister

From an author’s perspective I think the distinction between literary and commercial fiction is often seen as a dispute between those who write to say something important and those who write to earn money. A colleague once summed it up for me with the following quote from the bible:

For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

Matthew 16:26

Call me mercenary but I think the clue here is in the question. If a man gains the whole world but loses his soul, he has gained the whole world. Which would I rather have? A whole world or a soul? I think I’d like to have a whole world. From what I’ve heard about souls (from those people who claim to have them and know about them) souls don’t pay bills.

I don’t see many people staying warm through the winter because they’ve kept a good hold on their souls. I don’t see many people enjoying a surfeit of food, drink or wealth because they have souls. If it comes to profit or soul I’m going to pick profit every time. It’s far more useful for settling debts and putting food on the table.

I’ve been writing for money for the best part of two decades now. It’s never as much money as I’d hope. And there have been many times when I’ve had to compromise artistic integrity for the commercial benefits of coin.

For example, I once wrote a book in the form of a fairy tale. It was a very adult fairy tale with bonking and other narrative developments a person is unlikely to find in a traditional fairy tale. Nevertheless, it was a strong book and I was proud of the finished product. The editor I was working with at that time said he’d take it at the usual rate. But he wanted me to cut the opening line of, ‘Once upon a time…’ and also lose the ‘happily ever after’ line at the end. He also suggested we should cut ‘…all the other Hans Christian Anderson shit.’

To my mind, these changes destroyed the instant identification of the story as being constructed in the fashion of a fairytale.

However, I accepted the editor’s suggested revisions. It was a simple choice. I could either say no, and keep the story as an integral whole that remained consistent with my original artistic vision. Or I could say yes and pay the mortgage that month.

Does this mean I’m a whore? Yes. Do I care that I’m a whore? Not really.

I’m naïve enough to believe that there is literary merit to be found in commercial fiction, and I’m naïve enough to believe that there will be eventual commercial success for all deserving literary work.

The Brontës’ first collection of poetry sold only two copies. Frank Herbert’s acclaimed science fiction fantasy novel, Dune, was rejected by more than two dozen publishers who couldn’t perceive its worth. Even the diary of Anne Frank was rejected by a publisher who said, “The girl doesn't […] have a special perception or feeling which would lift that book above the 'curiosity' level.”

There are many similar fables of talent being overlooked by the writing industry.

Ultimately, the sheep will still buy whatever Oprah or Richard and Judy tell them regardless of the literary or commercial merit on the pages. The sheep don’t have the brains to pick books for themselves. It has always been this way and it will never change. But eventually, over time, literature is usually recognised and lauded appropriately.

All of which leads to the inevitable question: do I aspire to one day achieve literary success? The answer is: I guess it would be cool. But I don’t intend to go hungry waiting.