Writing is no longer only something authors do. It is also something sold back to them through courses, critiques, webinars, mentoring, self-publishing advice and promises of access. This essay asks when publishing stopped merely selling books to readers and began selling the dream of authorship to writers.

It’s almost poetic: a trauma memoir that ends up traumatising the publisher. Because when a story like The Salt Path begins to wobble, it’s not just the author who falls. The editors, the marketers, the readers—all are caught in the collapse of a narrative sold as unflinching truth. This is the soft lie of emotional truth—and publishing has been complicit in making it a genre.