Would you write poorly for $1 million?

Would you rather be a barely passable writer with a derivatively subpar series that somehow sells millions … or a supremely talented writer with a fantastic series that for some reason fails to capture readers’ attention? This was the question me and another author kicked around a couple weeks ago. Because sometimes debating hypotheticals can be an amusing way to take a break from writing your latest magnum opus.

The question was actually a bit more specific. We were ragging on the Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey series, remarking how they are, in our opinion, woefully written (actually, that’s not just our opinion; according to Google, about 200,000 people agree with us). Yet somehow they have become blockbusters and the authors—Stephenie Meyer and E.L. James, respectively—despite not being particularly talented wordsmiths, are now amassing the kind of wealth that lets them light their cigarettes with hundred dollar bills if they so choose. So the question became, would a talented author be willing to forsake that talent in exchange for a million dollars … or would a talented author rather write quality books that don’t sell as well? Assuming you are a better writer than Meyer or James—and God knows there are legions of you out there—would you sacrifice that talent if it resulted in you selling more books? Talent or money … if you could have only one, which would it be?

Phrased another way, are sales the ultimate goal for a writer … or is writing a good book enough of a reward unto itself?

Every author will have their own answer, but I suspect even those who claim they would retain their talent rather than forsake it for riches would think long and hard if such a Faustian deal were laid in their lap. Because Lord knows I have never once wished I was Stephenie Meyer or E.L. James, but I have certainly wished I enjoyed their level of success.

Such is the world of writing. Sometimes literary detritus inexplicably evolves into a blockbuster while great novels go as unnoticed as a plain-faced girl in the Playboy Mansion. The best we can do is try to write a good book with a good story and hope readers fall in love with it. Because while hypotheticals may be an amusing way to waste a few minutes during editing breaks, the reality is nobody is going to knock on our door and offer to diminish our writing talent in exchange for mounds of money. We can gripe about the Meyers and James of the publishing world, but the reality is they created stories, poorly written though they may be, that captured the hearts and minds—and wallets—of the reading public. We should strive to do the same.

Just without the “poorly written” part.