The Business of Being an Author

Why Creativity Alone Isn’t Enough

Most people don’t think of being an author as a business. They see it as an art—a deeply personal, creative pursuit that stands apart from the corporate world. But the truth is, being a successful author is just as much about business as it is about storytelling. And that’s where so many writers struggle.

I’ve spent a lot of time writing about remote work and family, but at my core, I want to be a New York Times best-selling fantasy author. That’s the dream. I love books, I love speculative fiction, and I love the weird little niches that exist within it—progressive literature, monster romance, sprawling epics that make you lose track of time. But the more I dive into the publishing industry, the more I realize: writing is only half the battle.

If you want to be an author—whether traditionally published or self-published—you have to think like an entrepreneur.

Business Isn’t Just Capitalism—It’s Survival

A lot of people hear the word "business" and immediately associate it with capitalism. But business isn’t inherently capitalistic—it’s just the exchange of value, which has existed in every human society. Even in the most basic hunter-gatherer tribes, there was a form of bartering: you cultivate sheep, I make tools, and we trade. That’s a business. Capitalism, on the other hand, requires capital and structured employment, which isn’t necessarily the same thing.

In an ideal world, I think everyone should operate as their own business. Instead of being employees, people could function as independent entities providing services—whether that’s as an assistant, a janitor, a dentist, or a doctor. Instead of working for a company, you work with companies. You determine your own value, set your own rates, and negotiate your worth. That’s how business should function.

But that’s not what we’re taught.

We don’t teach business in schools—we teach employment. We train people to work for companies, not to build their own. This is a fundamental flaw in creative industries, especially writing. Writers graduate from English programs or MFA courses with zero business skills. They’re taught how to write, but not how to sell.

And that’s why so many authors fail.

The Author as a Business Owner

The publishing industry—whether traditional or self-published—is a business. There’s a reason publishing houses care about things like “market trends” and “platforms.” It’s not just about whether your book is good; it’s about whether your book will sell.

Even if you land a book deal with a major publisher, you’ll still be expected to participate in marketing, branding, and platform building. Many debut authors assume their publisher will handle all of this, but that’s not the case. According to a 2018 study by the Authors Guild, the median income for full-time authors was just $20,300 per year (Authors Guild, 2018). The writers who succeed—who actually make a living from their work—are the ones who understand the business side of writing.

Self-published authors understand this better than anyone. Indie authors are entrepreneurs by default. They don’t just write books; they handle cover design, marketing, ad campaigns, audience building, and distribution. They know their audience because they have to—they don’t have a massive publishing house to rely on. And that level of business-minded strategy is what allows indie authors to thrive.

Creative Control and Negotiation

One of the things I already know I want in my future publishing contracts is final say over creative decisions. I don’t want to be one of those authors who gets handed a book cover that doesn’t reflect the story. This happens all the time—publishers prioritize marketability over accuracy, sometimes resulting in misleading or outright inappropriate covers (see: countless examples of whitewashed book covers in YA fiction).

J.K. Rowling had an unprecedented level of control over the Harry Potter adaptations, which arguably contributed to their massive success (HuffPost, 2016). Compare that to Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson & The Olympians film adaptations—where the author himself openly admits the studio ignored his input, leading to a franchise that flopped (Rick Riordan’s Blog, 2020). The lesson? If you don’t advocate for yourself, the industry will make decisions for you.

This is why I approach authorship as a business. I don’t just want to write books—I want to have control over how those books are packaged, marketed, and presented to the world.

Investing in Your Own Success

There’s a misconception that authors should just “write a good book” and everything else will fall into place. That’s not how it works. Writing is an investment—not just of time, but of money.

A business writer wouldn’t hesitate to spend thousands of dollars on professional editing and marketing—so why should a fantasy author? If I know I want to be a best-selling author, why wouldn’t I invest in the best possible editing, cover design, and promotion? Traditional publishers expect a polished manuscript; indie authors need to stand out in a crowded market. Either way, treating writing as a business means understanding the value of strategic investment.

I recently attended a writer’s conference, and it was one of the most validating experiences I’ve had. It reinforced everything I already believed: publishing is an industry, and succeeding in it means thinking beyond just the manuscript. It means understanding contracts, branding, and the economics of bookselling.

This isn’t a bad thing—it’s just reality.

Final Thoughts: Dream Like an Artist, Work Like a Business

If you want to be an artist—whether that’s a writer, painter, musician, or filmmaker—you have to learn business skills. You have to understand marketing, contracts, audience engagement, and sales. It’s not enough to create something great; you have to know how to sell it.

We live in a system where business knowledge is power. And while I might not be able to change that overnight, I can make sure that I navigate it on my own terms. Writing may be my passion, but it’s also my business—and I intend to mind it well.