Stop Trying to Sell Your Book to Everyone

One of the hardest lessons in publishing is: Your book is not for everyone. And that’s okay.

In fact, it is more than okay. It might be one of the best things you can understand about writing, marketing, and finding your readers. As a small press, we see it all the time. Authors worry about sales so they want to expand their audience, thinking this will help. It won’t. It actually hurts sales.

They want their book to appeal to readers of every age, every background, every taste. They want the cover to attract everyone. But when you try to sell a book to everyone, you can end up giving the people who would genuinely love it no clear reason to pick it up. You[re not appealing to your main audience. And that will destroy sales, reviews, and the longevity of your books.

Think about the books you love most. Chances are, they aren't books that were designed to please every possible reader. They have a particular voice. A particular kind of story they are determined to tell. Genres exist for a reason. And audiences tend to follow the genres they enjoy most. That specificity is part of their appeal. 

A reader who loves atmospheric gothic fiction isn’t looking for the same experience as someone who wants a fast-paced romantic comedy. A reader who spends their weekends solving mysteries may not want a quiet literary family drama. Genre is important. Audience preferences are important. And if you focus on writing for everyone, marketing for everyone, and attracting all readers, you miss the point entirely.

That doesn't mean one reader is better than another. It means readers are different. And that's good news for authors. Your job isn't to convince every person in the bookstore that your book is the one they've been waiting for. Your job is to help the right reader recognize it. The one who will love it, tell others about it, and anxiously wait for your next book.

Sometimes authors try to make their books sound broader than they are. A mystery becomes "a story about relationships, identity, and the human experience." A romance becomes "a contemporary novel exploring connection and personal growth." A horror novel becomes "a thought-provoking exploration of fear."

All of those things may be true. But what happens to the reader who came looking for a mystery? Or romance? Or horror? They may never realize your book is exactly what they wanted. There is power in saying what your book actually is. Reader expectations are important to retain those readers and grow a fanbase.

If it is a dark thriller, let it be dark. If it is an unapologetically messy romance, say so. If it is weird, funny, heartbreaking, experimental, cozy, frightening, or gloriously niche, don't hide those qualities behind vague language in an attempt to make the book more universally appealing. The things that make your book specific are often the things that make it memorable.

Publishing can make authors feel as though every sale is a referendum on the worth of their work. Someone doesn't buy the book, and you wonder whether the cover is wrong. Someone doesn't like the premise, and you wonder whether you should have written something else. A reviewer doesn't connect with it, and suddenly you are questioning the entire project. But one person's "not for me" is not the same thing as "not good." Sometimes "not for me" is exactly what you want. Because somewhere out there is the reader who has been searching for the book you wrote. The reader who wants a slow burn instead of a race. The reader who wants complicated characters instead of likable ones. The reader who wants strange worlds, uncomfortable questions, unreliable narrators, impossible love stories, or endings that leave them staring at the wall afterward. You don't need all of those readers. You need the ones who are looking for your book.

There is another benefit to letting go of the idea that everyone is your audience: your marketing becomes clearer. Instead of asking, "How can I get everyone to buy this?" you can ask: "Who is going to be thrilled that this book exists?"

That is a much better question. It changes the way you write your description. It changes where you promote the book. It changes which conversations you join. It changes the readers you seek out and the communities you build. Most importantly, it changes the way you talk about the book. You stop trying to convince. You start inviting. And there is a big difference.

This may be hard to swallow. Let people say no. Let someone see your book and decide it isn't for them. Let a reader prefer another genre. Let someone dislike your protagonist. Let a reviewer miss the point. Let someone put the book down halfway through. This also goes for reviews. Let people write negative reviews if it’s their true opinion. It doesn’t reflect negatively on your book. Even negative reviews will help the right reader find your book. It allows the right reader to say yes. 

As a small press, we want to help books find their right readers rather than force them into a shape that might vaguely appeal to everyone. Because books are not products that need to satisfy every possible customer. They are conversations. And the best conversations are not with everyone in the room. They are with the people who have something to say back.

So stop trying to make everyone your reader. Know what your book is. Know what makes it distinctive. Know who is most likely to fall completely in love with it. Then speak directly to those people. Your book doesn't need to be for everyone.

It just needs to be unmistakably for someone. And when that reader finds it, they'll know.