"Niche" as Euphemism for Not-White, Not-Hetero, and "We Don't Know How to Sell It"

When rejection has more to do with publishing's lack of vision than it does with the quality of the book

Traditional publishing is fickle. I’ve rolled out this line lots of times over the years to aspiring authors who face rejections from agents and editors, especially when those rejections are couched in vague and euphemistic language. Writers need to know, to understand to their core, that (oftentimes*) rejection from agents and editors has less to do with the quality or readiness of their book than it does with industry whims.

In my TEDx talk from 2018, I said:  

The rejection artists face comes from lack of vision and sweeping generalizations about what sells and what doesn’t. People are rejected for lack of celebrity, yes, but also for their projects being too similar in concept to something else that’s already out there. Or for appealing to too narrow an audience. Such narrow audiences as all African Americans, for instance, or all LGBTQ people.

I think about that particular line about African American audiences a lot now because, since 2020, there’s been a sea change in book publishing, specifically in the volume of books being published by authors of color. This is an interesting case study for anyone facing rejection because books by black authors, Latinx authors, and Asian authors used to be called “niche” just a few short years ago. Then 2020 rolled in to break the bullshit meter with scandal after scandal after scandal. Here were outcomes of systemic racism staring publishers in the face, and they vowed to do better. Publishing houses started to prioritize authors of color, and the result of those efforts are widespread and changing the face of book publishing.

This change, while wonderful and overdue, to me just proves the point about fickleness and lack of vision. It should also encourage writers to stay true to themselves and their visions in the face of rejection, and take rejection letters (and their rationales for rejection) with a heaping pile of salt.

This week, a writer I’m working with who’s out on submission with a manuscript about the year she spent proactively healing from a breakup, got a classically euphemistic agent rejection letter. That your book is too niche, too specific, too *fill in the blank* has historically meant not white, not hetero, not mainstream. It pains me to see that we’re not past this . . . still. Here’s the letter, and yes, the author is gay:

I like the idea, but I’m not confident an editor will see this as universal enough to break it out in a competitive memoir market. While memoirs are, by definition, personal stories, editors are usually looking for a broader lens—a way to apply the story to a wider audience. To me, your process feels too specific in taking the reader through the ins and outs of your specific relationships and specific solutions for finding love and better understanding yourself, and I'm not sure how to widen that lens effectively. I appreciate the opportunity to have considered your work and wish you the best with this project. 

This is a perfectly kind rejection letter, but the words “universal,” “broader,” and “wider” in this context, coupled with the ways in which the book was too “specific” led me to reply to my author.

I'm supposing this means that your readership will only be lesbians?

The reason book publishing used to believe books by writers of color were niche was because they believed that only black readers would read black authors. I heard whispers during my career of “black people don’t read,” when in fact the houses just didn’t know how to reach them. I will never forget Luis Alberto Urrea having shared his story of trying to sell one of his books to a publisher who said, “No one wants to read about dirty Mexicans.” That writers of color have massive audiences of all races and ethnic backgrounds is obvious. (That gay authors have straight readers is also obvious, but we’re pre-2020 on this one.)

This weekend I saw Origin. If you haven’t yet seen it, or you’re holding out because you’re worried it will be too heavy or depressing, go soon, while it’s still in the theater, and stay till the end, post-credits, for Ava DuVernay’s Q&A. She talked for a bit about form—the fact that the movie plays with different styles. It’s part-narration, part-documentary, even has surreal elements to it. She said something to the effect of: We should be able to tell our stories in whatever ways we want to tell them.

She was talking about form, but it’s applicable to all of us. We should be able to tell our stories in whatever ways we want to tell them. I think part of the reason we’re witnessing a grand-scale shift in the way content is reaching people these days—away from traditional media and into the hands of the creators themselves—has to do with lack of vision. Creators want creative control, or at least meaningful collaboration in their creative efforts. They don’t want to be told that they don’t have an audience when they know they do. They don’t want to be told to change their projects when they’re clear on the vision for what the project wants to be.

What I said to the author who’s shopping her book is what I’ll part with today:
• Don’t sacrifice your vision.
• Don’t change your book for someone else’s take on what might sell.
• Don’t turn over your power.
• Your readers are out there.

If you have a story about a rejection, or about something you were asked to change in order to make your book more saleable, please share it in the comments. Also, share anything in the comments. I love hearing from you.

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*Caveat: I am a book publisher, and one who rejects books, so this is a necessary caveat to my readers. Yes, authors go out on submission before they’re ready, and many books are rejected because they’re not done, and the author has more work to do.