While business books sell on the title
When I published Building Successful Partner Channels (in the software industry), I experienced how strongly a precise subject can carry a book. The title told the reader what problem the book addressed. The target audience could recognise itself in the six significant words.
Software companies that sell through resellers often struggle with the same basic question: how do you get partners to build sales processes that generate predictable and growing revenue? For a company whose growth depends on indirect sales, that is not an academic challenge. It is an existential issue.
At the time the book was published, no other books addressed this subject in the software industry. The market was large, the need was clear, and the competition was limited. The title functioned almost as a sales advertisement in itself. It did not promise entertainment, atmosphere or literary quality. It promised help with a specific problem.
My own background also helped. I could document many years of experience in the field, and that made the buying decision easier. A non-fiction buyer typically asks, “Do I experience this problem?” “Does the book look as if it will give me a usable answer?” “Does the author know the field?” “Is the price reasonable?”
If the answers are yes, the path to purchase is relatively short.
The book quickly became an international bestseller.
An almost absurd upside
The price helped. An e-book at 10 dollars and a printed edition at just under 20 dollars was a low-risk purchase for a professional audience. But the relationship between price and possible upside was almost absurd.
If a company could increase its revenue by using inspiration from the book, its value might rise by millions, perhaps even billions. Seen in that light, the 10–20 dollars were not an expense, but an extremely cheap option for a huge gain.
That is often how business books work. They sell on the title’s promise, the subject, the relevance and the author’s credibility. The reader is not looking for entertainment. She is looking for knowledge, overview, methods, explanations or inspiration that can help her solve a problem. That is why an unknown author can succeed if the book meets a recognised need in an identifiable market.
The novel plays by different rules
When I later published the novel Tumult in Mecca, the difference became clear. A novel does not solve a specific business problem. It does not promise the reader a method, a checklist or a direct financial gain. Instead, it asks for something far more costly: the reader’s private time, attention and emotional investment.
That is why a novel is sold, to a considerable extent, on the author’s name. Not only because well-known authors receive more attention, but also because the name reduces the reader’s risk. When you buy a novel by John Grisham, Elena Ferrante, J.K. Rowling or Haruki Murakami, you are not merely buying a story. You are buying a justified expectation. You have a fair idea of the kind of experience you are entering into. Furthermore, you may have read the author before, heard others mention the name, or seen reviews, interviews, adaptations and recommendations.
The unknown novelist has none of this capital. The name on the cover means nothing to the reader. The title may arouse curiosity, but it can rarely create trust on its own. The cover may be professional, the blurb well written, and the subject interesting, but the reader is still left with the question: why should I spend ten, fifteen or twenty hours on precisely this book?
That question is much harder to answer for a novel than for a non-fiction book. The non-fiction book can say: here is the problem, here are the solutions, here is my experience, here is the price. Buy it.
That is not how selling fiction works.
Trust is the novel’s currency
For an unknown novelist, awareness and trust are the real currency. They have to be built before the book can sell in any significant volume, and they are built slowly. Reviews help. Reader endorsements help. Interviews, talks, articles, podcasts and mentions help. But none of it works instantly in the way a sharp non-fiction title can work when it hits a pressing problem.
There is also a difference in the nature of the target audience. For Building Successful Partner Channels, the audience was relatively easy to identify. Channel managers, sales directors, consultants and investors in software companies all had an interest in the subject. I could find them on LinkedIn, in industry forums, at conferences and in professional networks. They were already using a language that matched the book’s concepts.
Readers of novels are harder to pin down. Even if a novel is set in a particular environment or deals with particular themes, the target audience is not necessarily everyone interested in those themes. A novel about Mecca, business, culture, religion, geopolitical conflicts and personal dilemmas does not automatically appeal to everyone who reads about the Middle East, Islam, politics or international affairs. Some readers seek suspense. Others seek literary immersion. Some want historical authenticity. Others are primarily looking for language, characters or psychological complexity.
Although the market for novels is vast, it is also fragmented. That is an advantage, because readers always exist somewhere. But it is also a disadvantage, because it is difficult to make them aware that the book exists.
The reader’s time is the largest barrier
Then there is the competition. A colossal number of novels are published every day, not least in English. And a new novel is not competing only with other new novels. It competes with classics, bestsellers, streaming services, social media, podcasts, newsletters, computer games and work. The reader’s time is limited. The price of the book is rarely the largest barrier. Time is.
That means discounts and a low price do not necessarily have much effect on their own. A professional reader may buy a non-fiction book because it promises a solution that can quickly be converted into value. A reader of fiction does not choose solely on price. A free or cheap novel still requires many hours of reading. If the reader does not already believe in the experience, even zero pounds is a high price.
This is one of the most underestimated challenges in marketing fiction. I am not selling paper or a digital file. I am selling a future experience that the buyer cannot properly judge until the time investment has already been made.
That is why social proof becomes decisive. An unknown novel needs signals from the outside: reviews on Amazon and Goodreads, quotes from credible readers, mentions in relevant media, recommendations from book bloggers, bookstagrammers, reading groups and literary networks. Not because each of these channels produces large sales figures on its own, but because together they build the credibility that the author’s name does not yet have.
From a problem market to a trust market
The unknown novelist must therefore accept that marketing does not begin at publication. It begins much earlier because the author and the publisher face two different tasks.
The first task is to raise awareness in the target group. Readers have to know that the book exists, and they have to be given a reason to notice it. A non-fiction book can, in some cases, be launched directly into an existing problem field. Readers look for solutions themselves because they have a concrete problem and because the gain from reading the book may be enormous relative to the price.
The novel works differently. Readers of fiction are less likely to search for problems they want solved, and more likely to search for books that other people are already reading: the bestselling, the most discussed or the most recommended. That is why a novel often requires the author first to build a relationship with potential readers. This may happen through advertising, essays, articles, newsletters, talks and conversations about the book’s themes or content.
The second task is to motivate a purchase. That is not the same as generating awareness. The fact that a reader has heard of a book does not mean that she is ready to buy it. It is not enough to say, “Here is my novel; buy it.” I must give readers reasons to become interested in the world the novel opens up. I must show why the story concerns them. Likewise, I must create curiosity without reducing the novel to a product promise. And I must do it again and again without wearing out my enthusiasm.
The two tasks are connected, but they are not the same. Unsuccessful in the first, the second rarely succeeds. A reader cannot want to buy a book she does not know exists, or one she has not been given a reason to care about.
Problem markets and trust markets
For me, the contrast between Building Successful Partner Channels and Tumult in Mecca became a lesson in the difference between problem markets and trust markets.
The non-fiction book entered a problem market. It had a clear utility value, an identifiable target audience and a title that carried much of the sales work. It cost almost nothing in relation to the value it could potentially create.
The novel entered a trust market. Here, the reader first had to be convinced that the fictional universe of an unknown author was worth entering. A novel sells when the reader feels inclined to take a chance.
This does not mean that unknown novelists cannot break through. They can. But it rarely happens through advertising, price reductions or a single launch alone. It requires a long, persistent effort, a budget and a little luck. First, the slightly more adventurous readers have to be reached. Only later does the mass market follow. It happens through the sustained building of awareness, credibility, reader relationships and word of mouth. It happens when the first readers become engaged enough to carry the book on to the next ones.
