The most commonly asked question I have put to me by authors and readers alike is this: “In the world of digital publishing, how does an author prevent their work from sinking into the morass of stuff out there?” I’ve heard it on planes, at conventions, online, in email and at talks. Everyone is afraid works of merit will never see the light of day because there are so many things being published. The question comes with a pretty high anxiety level, too.

Here’s the problem with that question: It is utterly meaningless. People seem to believe that the morass situation is some how new and different because of the digital publishing boom. It’s not new—it’s old, ancient, unspeakably so. It’s the specter that’s haunted authors since before the Library at Alexandria burned down.

Consider the following facts.

1) Before digital, the question was “How can I get a publisher to notice my work in that vast morass of books they have to sort through?” The answer was “Write really well and put your work out there.” Many folks also enlisted an agent to promote the work. Don’t dwell on the word agent—substitute advocate. In the digital age, that’s going to have to be you—but authors have always had to advocate for their own work, and the digital age gives us more and better tools for doing that.

2) The gatekeepers were never very good at making sure books didn’t get lost in the morass. First off, if they were truly all about plucking gems from the slush piles, Harry Potter wouldn’t have bounced around like a pinball before it found a home outside the big six publishers. Second, we’d not have had a novel by Snooki hit the New York Times bestseller list. The gatekeepers have one job and one job only: making money. They don’t even advocate for the books as much as authors do—when was the last time you saw a publishing house promote a book that did better than expected, trying to trigger more sales?

3) Readers don’t pay all that good attention to authors and their work anyway. When I started my series of posts on my Conan adventure, several folks reacted with comments along the lines of “Oh, you’re writing Conan?” I mean, heck, this was not exactly a state secret (since I had blogged about it before) and the book was out for a full month before that series of posts began. Granted, folks have busy lives and bookstores are getting harder to find; but these are folks who follow me on Facebook and Twitter. While I don’t expect them to hang on every word, it’s been hard to miss that I wrote the novelization of the Conan movie. (Note: this would be an advocacy failure on the part of the publisher and the author.)

4) Writers get tunnel vision about how readers read. Think about it for a second. As readers, do we only pick up work we consider to be gems, or do we read tons of work looking for gems? I don’t think I’m only speaking for myself when I note that I’ve sampled at least a dozen or two authors for every one I consider a keeper. What this means is simple: the morass isn’t really a morass because readers graze, they don’t cherry pick. The fact that sampling is so very easy in the digital age encourages this behavior.

Once readers find an author they like, they dig right in.

And they recommend that author’s work to others.

The goal, then, for authors is not to worry about how to avoid sinking in the morass. The goal is to produce enough high quality work that when you’re discovered, readers will want to read more. Serial stories are especially attractive in this regard. If they like one, they’ll come back for more just to have the complete set. We all do it. (Yes, even you, don’t shake your head like that. You know you do.)

It also helps if you spread the work around in different genres. Since Mysteries sell more than SF, if you like mysteries, write one. Let that be a story that will bring new readers to you. Try a fantasy, do some hard SF, or military SF, or anything else you like. The key here is to pick stories you like, since you’ll write them well, and your enthusiasm will warm the readers’ hearts.

As I have noted previously in posts, the path to success involves two things: producing and promotion. How do you promote? First, you write more. Second, you provide samples of the work to entice folks to try it. You use Facebook and Twitter and Google+ as places to promote your work to people you know. You provide samples and interesting articles on your website, so folks tweet about your posts, or share them with others.

Any writer who dwells on the question of sinking in the morass is really engaging in a very nasty and self-destructive form of procrastination. This writer uses the possibility that his work will sink to delay doing anything until he’s solved, or until he discovers a solution to, that conundrum. The problem there is, of course, that his refusal to write means he’s cutting himself off from the solution to the problem. Writing is too hard as it is to be sabotaging yourself. Writers write. Do that, do it well, and your audience will find you.

Instead of worrying about how to avoid being lost, writers need to ask themselves how they’ll be able to meet the demand of all the readers who want their material. They need to use that problem as the basis for planning. Create a plan for producing inventory (stories) that support and cross-promote each other, and you’re there.

For readers who fear they will miss gems, go out and look for good books. Make sure you write reviews or blog about books you like—and look for blogs by others that do the same thing. By promoting good books, by buying more books by good authors, you tell authors what you want to read. Writers will take the hint. As long as you download samples and read them before you buy, you protect yourself from spending money on truly wretched work. Then once you’ve discovered a gem of a book, you can recommend it to others and they, in turn, will do the same for you.

This fear of rejection, of not having your work noticed or acknowledged, touches all of us. If you will, to go unnoticed is to have your very existence called into question. Very potent stuff. But sitting back silently, by refusing to write, you simply surrender to the problem. You fight back and you become victorious by turning out the best stories you can and sharing them with others. As long as you keep fighting and making yourself a better writer, you’ll win. Quitting is the only way you lose, and worrying about the morass is just quitting before you ever really get started.