Context

On February 28^th, 2022, a downcast Brandon Sanderson released a short video informing fans that he was launching an important video the next day – and he wanted us to watch it. Speculation was rampant. Sanderson is one of the world’s most popular fantasy authors, with mega-bestseller series such as Mistborn and The Stormlight Archive. Would this announcement jeopardize the completion of those series? Was Sanderson facing health issues?

The next day, he uploaded a video titled “It’s Time to Come Clean.” Clicking on the video, I was terrified. Five minutes later, I was as happy as I could have been.

It turns out that, in secret, Sanderson wrote FOUR secret novels over the last two years – in addition to the novels he owed to his publishers. And he was selling them all through his company, Dragonsteel Entertainment, via a Kickstarter campaign. Sorry publishers.

Supporters were given the choice between eBook, audiobook, and premium hardcover editions – and even some exclusive ‘swag boxes’ for fans with $500 USD or more.

Naturally, the fans went insane. And after the campaign raised $15.4 million USD in the first 24 hours, so did the publishing world at large. At $31 million USD raised to date – the biggest Kickstarter EVER – Sanderson’s stunt has generated a lot of discussion, even appearing on major news sites. Let’s talk about it – specifically about crowdfunding.

Crowdfunding in SFF Publishing

Within fantasy publishing, platforms such as Kickstarter and Patreon have become increasingly successful for authors – and Sanderson’s Kickstarter has centered them in discussion even more so than before.

But how big of a deal is it really? As sci-fi author John Scalzi notes, no one else in the genre is capable of replicating Sanderson’s level of success in crowdfunding. Sanderson has spent decades building a fanbase, a YouTube channel with 350,000 subscribers, and possibly “the largest support team of any novelist in the world.” Authors like Neil Gaiman and George R.R. Martin have the popularity to do this, but not the infrastructure.

All considered, it’s unlikely that any other author will make $31 million anytime soon. But there has been an undeniable trend towards crowdfunding in fantasy and science fiction publishing lately – one that Sanderson’s Kickstarter will only further accentuate. 

Crowdfunding Rewards Engagement

Bestseller and Hugo winner N.K Jemisin, for example, makes $5,000 on Patreon each month. Self-published authors such as Michael J. Sullivan have made Kickstarter central to their careers. Even successful traditionally published authors – such as Fonda Lee and Brian McClellan – have dipped into Patreon for side projects ranging from short story collections to podcasts. 

In short, everyone’s getting into crowdfunding – traditionally and self-published. Well, not everyone. As much as I love Sanderson’s work, I can’t help but see his Kickstarter success as the biggest example of a growing – and worrying – trend where genre authors are forced to become entertainers and marketers in order to succeed.

Crowdfunding success heavily depends on an author’s internet presence, and their charisma. What about authors who don’t want to be businesspeople? What about authors who don’t have on-screen charisma? Today’s internet culture rewards authors who can play at being influencers, and punishes those who just want to write. Would I like Sanderson’s books as much if I hadn’t watched hundreds of hours of YouTube videos on his channel? Definitely not.

Brian McClellan and his author guests discuss this constantly on his podcast. A recent episode with Evan Winter focuses heavily on “the side of work being a creative professional that distracts us from actually creating” and “how [Winter’s] background in marketing helped him launch his first book.” McClellan himself has also adopted the “hybrid model” that Sanderson advocates, and supports his podcast via Patreon. Even traditionally publishing, authors need to become their own marketers these days.

Christopher Ruocchio, for example, is a traditional published sci-fi author with decent sales, who also runs a YouTube channel, has a Patreon, regularly communicates with fans on Discord, and independently publishes novel-adjacent short stories. 

There’s lots to like here, make no mistake. Crowdfunding makes short fiction viable again, and it allows writers to leverage their fanbases to help them quit their day jobs and focus on writing earlier than traditional publishing would allow on its own – N. K Jemisin did exactly this.

But as much as I like seeing authors succeed without traditional publishing, I worry about these new forms of gatekeeping that independent publishing introduces. Some of my favourite authors, like Susana Clarke, would never be able to break into this social-media-centred market today.

The post Brandon Sanderson and Crowdfunding first appeared on Reader's Repository.

Disclaimer: My essay is NOT meant to discourage reading widely. Any fantasy author will tell you that reading in many genres is critical to improving your writing – none of them are only influenced by fantasy. Instead, my goal is to advocate for the alterative benefits of a more focused reading life. Ideally everyone would do both, but who’s got the time?

A while ago, I was digging through some boxes of SFF novels at a used book sale. A guy came up to me and asked if I’d found any copies of Fahrenheit 451 or Dune. I responded that I hadn’t and showed him some other titles I’d found – genre staples like The Forever War and The Eye of The World. He declined them, explaining that he was only interested in the real classics – he was on a quest to read the 2-3 biggest titles from every genre. That’s an admirable goal, no disrespect to him, but I couldn’t help feeling sad that he was missing out on so much great SFF.

But aren’t I missing out by only read SFF? Yes, undoubtedly – but I’m gaining a lot too. Reading widely is a commonly discussed – and valuable – habit, but today I’m going to argue for reading narrowly.

Genres are Ongoing Conversations

Genres are conversation, and only reading one or two classics means that you’re ignoring everyone except the loudest person in the room. 

Take A Game of Thrones for example. George R.R. Martin was responding to all the authors writing derivative and Tolkienesque quest narratives and was himself in dialogue with contemporaries such as Tad Williams and Robin Hobb. If you only read A Song of Ice And Fire, you’re joining the conversation halfway through. You’ve got no idea who he’s responding to, and you’ll never hear how others respond to him.

Alternatively, by reading The Way of Kings without reading A Game of Thrones, you can’t properly contextualize it as Sanderson’s response to the genre’s prevailing grimdark movement. Every text that’s worth reading gives readers plenty to discuss on its own – but viewing it within its wider genre context enriches the experience.

From there, you can read lesser known, but still influential, works in the genre. Want to better understand the transition from Tolkien to modern fantasy? Check out Wars of Light and Shadow or A Crown of Stars, or any of the other epic series that emerged in the nineties. Plus, reading and supporting lesser-known authors is what keeps publishing alive.

Personally, I’d rather have an in-depth and in-context understanding of A Song of Ice And Fire than a surface level understanding of ten different classics. 

No novel is written in a vacuum, they all have genre context, but it is important recognize that fantasy novels also have non-genre context. Joe Abercrombie cites A Game of Thrones as a key influence, of course, but also Western novel Lonesome Dove and Shelby Foote’s multi-volume history of the American Civil War. Heck, I Am Not A Serial Killer by Dan Wells was influenced by the classics of Russian literature.

Essentially, if you’re doing your due diligence on your genre of choice, you’ll end up reading widely anyways.

In Fantasy, We’re Part of the Conversation Too

Sure, I can read Romeo and Juliet or The Great Gatsby, but what can I say about them? Critics and academics have studied these texts for decades and centuries. Thousands of authors have responded to them. And even if you think you’ve come up with a new interpretation, chances are there’s already an indie movie or modern retelling that beat you to it. 

It’s similar for modern mega-hits – people with far larger platforms than you have already defined the conversation, and it is much more difficult for us to interrupt. For fantasy novels, especially those outside the few biggest series, us fans have a real chance to share original analysis and have it heard. We can define conversations. 

A lot of authors will even engage with fans directly. Between Reddit, Discord, BookTube, Tumblr, GoodReads, and even BookTok, we have many opportunities to meaningfully contribute. There is value in discovering the classics for yourself, but I personally find it so much more exciting to participate in conversations that are ongoing.

When Evan Winter releases Lord of Demons (next year!), anyone can host a BookTube discussion about it or make an analytical Reddit post – and in doing so help shape the conversation.

What Can a Classic Give You That a Modern Fantasy Can’t?

Well, lots: a stronger vocabulary, knowledge of history, an understanding of literary allusions, etc. But you don’t need to go back to the 1800s to get at the fundamental questions.

As George R.R. Martin (quoting William Faulkner) so often says, “the only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself” – and any fantasy novel worth reading will do so. As a bonus, it’ll probably be more accessible, relevant and have more diverse representation. Want an examination of family? The Green Bone Saga by Fonda Lee is great for that, you don’t necessarily need to go all the way back to Little Women or Wuthering Heights.

Additionally, most good fantasy authors – unlike lowly readers like myself – have read the classics, and they’re building on those works as much as the work of their genre contemporaries. It’s okay to let some stuff go, every generation of writers builds on the last.

Only reading select classics is a lot like taking a survey course in college – think “Intro to World History” or “Accounting 101.” I’ve loved some of them, but I always feel like I’m only seeing the tip of the iceberg, never getting a look at the immensity hiding under the sea.

Again, classics have value; I’d like to read more in future. Read what you want to read, but don’t feel bad if all you want to read is fantasy. It’s worth it.