Many authors like to lie to themselves. They will pontificate on social media that they’re “not in competition” with anyone, that “there is room for everyone” that “no one is taking anyone else’s space” within publishing, and for a long time I believed these things and internalised it – until I joined the online writing community.  

Throughout 2018 and onwards, I tirelessly queried Book One to no success and ended up shelving the project. This is a painful but common experience, to disengage your mind from a world that has held it captive for months and years, to bury the manuscript into a folder or a drawer, to divorce yourself from characters that have felt like friends and living, breathing family members, and hold a creative funeral for a lost dream. But that’s the writing game – so I shelved Book One and tried again with Book Two, my racial dystopia, and through it all, I was bombarded with tweet after tweet of *vague posts* and announcements that *contract-shaped things* were entering everyone else’s inbox but mine, and lovely portraits “proudly announcing” that someone who was not me was now represented by a dream agent. Jealousy reigned supreme.  

I assumed things would stop once I got to this point: the book of my dreams, twenty years in the making, snatched up by a world class editorial team from not just any Big 5 imprint, but the one that’s basically a household name in the UK, a British institution. I finally made it, so the mantras should work, and the professional jealousy and wistfulness should be no more.  

Not so! Thanks, social media: now I can see which authors get the special Waterstones editions, who got the Illumicrate deal that I didn’t get, who got the Goldsboro and FairyLoot and all the other monthly subscription boxes that REAPER was unsuccessful with, and which authors are being sold in multiple countries. I’m suggested reels and photos of people excitedly rushing to read the ARCs of my fellow Del Rey authors whilst offering quieter platitudes for mine. I get to see all the Most Anticipated for 2025 lists, the “debut authors you have to watch” videos, the famous, established authors posting about other debuts of my year and doing online shoutouts for them. It’s impossible to escape professional jealousy.  

I’ve just painted a very bleak picture, but when an author is left to their own mind, one embittered by years of rejection, they will often fall back on spiralling, negative self-talk. The tail end of December and the whole of January has been hard whilst I anxiously wait for my official book announcement and simultaneously doomscroll for inescapable news about my fellow debuts. It’s like that meme where Squidward is looking out at Spongebob and Patrick running around having fun, just wistfully pining from outside the club. But spiralling doesn’t help me nor does it change the reality that yes, some people will be bestsellers and others won’t, some authors will get book box deals and others won’t, some debuts will be hyped and others won’t. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just the truth of the trade. But there are ways to regain some control (and dignity!)  

What helped me put things into perspective is remembering that THE REAPER hasn’t been announced yet. Most people don’t know about it, haven’t heard about it. Only those in every corner of book spaces online or who attended YALC are likely to know about it. There is no hype because it’s still the beginning. There’s no point agonising over a future I can’t see when nothing has happened yet. I’m comparing my unannounced book to those that are in the full throes of their publicity campaigns. It’s a bit silly.  

I went a further and confronted my insecurities directly. It’s no secret that there are two explosive debuts on the Del Rey roster this year – Silver Elite by Dani Francis and Silvercloak by LK Steven. There’s been a bunch of hype for these books, with influencers writing stunning reviews for both, posting live reactions, and doing unboxing videos of the ARCs. There has been a quieter response for my book – but I’m so grateful to those who’ve already started posting about it and doing reviews (one nabzrealbooktalk in particular, who was THE REAPER’s earliest champion). I joked with another writer friend that I should have called my book Silver Reaper and added more spice. For a long time, it felt like I was languishing in the shadows of these great silver mountains. So, I requested the ARCs. And I sat down to read Silver Elite.  

And it’s brilliant.  

I was hooked and almost stayed up all night to complete it. When I finished the book, I just didn’t have the energy for jealousy, especially because it helped me to see that Dani Francis and I are two very different writers, with different styles, of different genres, catering to different audiences. Of course there’s space for both of us. I’m genuinely proud to be imprint buddies with her.  

I still need to read the rest of Silvercloak, but what I’ve read so far has been equally fantastic and equally distinct from my subject and writing style. LK Steven is also an established author (although this is her adult debut) which means she already has a readership and an audience that will buy her books, whereas I’m carving one from scratch. There’s no need for me to compare my brand new journey to hers.  

Publishing thrives on secrecy and silence. The industry is opaque in itself, and the culture demands participants to keep cards to their chests. You will partner with an agent and have to remain “vague” until the contract is fully signed and agreed on. You sign with a publisher and can’t tell anyone until a Bookseller article or publisher announcement has been printed. You don’t tell anyone the exact rate of your advance, or whether you get dropped by your agent or publisher, you don’t talk about sales figures. Therefore, instances of professional jealousy remain hidden.  

This isn’t the case for other creative industries: rivalries between musicians move into legendary status, from Michael Jackson and Prince, Britney and Christina, Take That and East17, Mozart and Salieri. Academics eviscerate each other in their papers. Filmmakers publicly comment on each other’s work. Visual artists are known to have public disagreements, if the Banksy and King Robbo battles are anything to go by. Such honesty is frowned upon in book spaces, and acts to lift the veil often lead to chaos: the very helpful Publishing Paid Me spreadsheet found authors being accused of undeserving of certain advances, to readers scrutinising books to measure whether they were worth the money spent. It fuelled racism against authors of colour who were made to feel like diversity hires for getting higher advances than what others deemed necessary. Being honest in publishing comes with consequences. I understand why no one wants to admit to having professional jealousy. Only the major, god-level authors (mostly dead) get that privilege. This results in an alienating feeling, where people are made to feel aberrant for having these thoughts. 

Despite the madness, I’ve enjoyed meeting authors new and veteran. I’ve loved mingling with writers in my debut group. It’s a strange, wild, unique experience to embark on this journey with other people from all over the world, share experiences and insecurities, vent together and support each other. I’ve met some amazing people, writers who I hope will become friends and colleagues for the long term, who I’ve done joint giveaways with and boosted their content on my socials. Whatever professional jealousy felt slowly melts away in the truth of all that good community spirit, and I’ve chosen to accept both the rough and the smooth stones that this path inevitably offers. Regardless of professional jealousy, community is important. Negativity thrives in isolation.