The financial reality of book publishing no one talks about

• Book deal amounts are often kept secret, using vague terms like "nice" or "good" to describe advances ranging from $0 to over $500,000.
• Most authors receive an advance, but it is often paid in installments over several years and may be the only money they earn from their book.
• Publishing is a "hits-driven" business where a small number of bestselling books subsidize the rest of the market.

“From Pitch to Publication” is a series taking readers behind the curtain of modern publishing as a business. 

The difference between "nice" and "good" can be a $50,000 jump. 

Typically, when a book is acquired by a publishing imprint, those deals are shrouded in mystery. Even when it’s announced on Publishers Marketplace, the deals are categorized as “nice,” “very nice,” “good,” “significant” and “major” – ranging from $0 to over $500,000. Unless an author volunteers the exact amount, only the people involved in the deal will know how much that was.

For aspiring writers scrolling through deal announcements on industry sites or social media, those vague labels can fuel both dreams and misconceptions. A “good” deal might sound life-changing. A “major” deal might suggest instant wealth. But for most writers navigating the publishing industry in 2026, the financial reality is far more complicated. 

Here’s why there’s so much secrecy around the publishing industry, and how fiction authors are faring. 

The money most readers never see 

Best-selling fiction author Jason June decided to push back against the industry’s silence around money by continuously and publicly sharing his own finances and performance through his Ventorship newsletter. The goal, he said, was to help other writers understand what the career actually looks like. 

"It's very hush-hush," June said of authors not sharing their income. "If we don't talk about it, nobody will ever know if what they're getting is industry standard or if it’s way low or if it's way high."

The secrecy isn’t necessarily enforced by publishers. Instead, many industry insiders say it’s largely cultural. I can understand the impulse as an unagented writer who recently announced a “nice” deal. Given that the industry largely runs on taste and preferences, you do consider how a specific amount could impact interest in the book’s subsidiary rights.

“The publishing industry doesn’t release sales figures,” publishing industry researcher Jane Friedman told USA TODAY. “People often assume books are doing better than they actually are. And the authors themselves don’t want to speak about it either because they’ve been instructed by their agent or by their publisher … or their shame and embarrassment that the book didn’t perform better.”

In many cases, Friedman said, authors assume they are not supposed to discuss their deals, even when there is no explicit restriction. 

June, who posted about selling 174 copies of a 2024 release this past holiday season, says the lack of transparency leaves writers guessing about what success actually looks like. (For comparison, "Flopping in a Winter Wonderland," which is a holiday-themed YA novel, sold 1,277 copies during its first three months after publication.)

“It's a sort of self-perpetuating fear for authors as a whole, where – because nobody talks about what they make – we think we’re not supposed to or not allowed to,” he said.

Advances: The biggest check, and sometimes the only one

For most traditionally published authors, the largest payment they receive is the advance (the upfront money paid when a publisher acquires a book). 

But advances often arrive in installments, sometimes spread over years. Fiction author Kristen Bird recently posted $6,659 in total royalties for 2025.

“I think this is a somewhat recent phenomenon, but my biggest gripe would be when the advance is split into four payments,” Friedman said. “The last payment actually comes after the book is published, and it is no longer an advance at that point.” 

Because books can take years to move from contract to publication, that means an author may wait a long time for money tied to work they’ve already completed. 

“It will take maybe two years from the time the contract is signed … maybe even longer for that final advance payment to come in,” Friedman said. 

Even when advances are paid in full, they rarely equal a sustainable salary. 

“The honest truth about advances in book sales is that, especially for a first-time author or someone who’s not a New York Times Bestseller, these payments rarely constitute a living,” Friedman added. “Even if you’re working with a big commercial house, the average advance is going to be in the five figures.” 

According to Emily Zipps in her Substack analysis of 60 authors with traditionally published 2025 debuts, advance amounts varied dramatically, with about 20% of respondents self-reporting a $0 advance and fewer than half receiving less than $10,000 per book, while a little more than a quarter got over $50,000.

Still, Friedman has argued that author-income surveys should be treated cautiously, because they often rely on self-selected respondents, lump together very different kinds of writers and can create overly broad author “crisis” narratives from limited data. Nevertheless, she acknowledges that these surveys can be useful in showing that for most authors, book advances and royalties alone do not provide a stable living.

In many cases, that advance may be the only money an author ever earns from the book. “The majority, the vast majority of the time, the advances are not earned out,” Friedman said.

Why royalties don't always add up 

In theory, authors earn additional money through royalties once book sales exceed the advance. But those payments can be modest because there's no set standard.

Royalty structures vary depending on format, contract negotiations and other factors, but the amount per book can be surprisingly small. “You can still sell thousands of books and only be making a dollar or less than a dollar per book sold,” June told USA TODAY. “So, if you sell 1,000 books, you might get $1,000.”

Kevin O’Connor, programming director of the NYU Summer Publishing Institute and literary agent, said the majority of authors he works with, both in fiction and nonfiction, have other sources of income. 

“Most of my clients are part-time writers,” he said. “For most writers, I don’t think [being a full-time author is] possible until you get a major hit.” 

A hits-driven industry 

Another economic challenge comes from the uneven way books sell. 

Publishing operates as what insiders call a “hits-driven” business, where a small percentage of titles generate most revenue. “Most books don’t sell 5,000 copies,” O’Connor said, referencing reporting on publishing industry data and the 2022 Penguin Random House and Simon & Schuster antitrust trial. 

As in many entertainment industries, a few blockbuster titles subsidize the rest of the market. “You have the 80-20 rule,” he said. “Twenty percent of the titles do 80% of the business.” 

Yet editors continue acquiring new books, often driven by passion as much as profit. “They get into a book because they get personally connected to it,” O’Connor said. “They care, and they think that they can find an audience that can care.”

Sometimes those bets pay off. Often they don’t. 

Why transparency could help everyone 

For Friedman and other industry observers, greater transparency brings a "better understanding of what everyone else is doing" and puts authors and agents in a "better position to negotiate."

June agrees. His decision to share his finances was meant to provide data points for writers weighing whether to pursue publishing seriously.

Industry experts say the economics of authorship are unlikely to shift dramatically in the near future, as the industry remains a hit-driven business. As a result, advances will likely remain the primary source of income for many writers rather than royalties, Friedman said. 

Only a small number of writers – blockbuster novelists, prolific genre authors and those with film or television adaptations – earn enough to do it full-time. But for most, publishing looks less like a single career and more like part of a portfolio.

(This story was updated to refresh headlines.)

Josh Rivera is an author and senior editor at USA TODAY.