This story is a product of the MAYDAY:Black Incubator.
“The history of publishing and the political nature of art cannot be understood without taking into account the relative powerlessness of marginalized artists who do not own the keys to social, political, and economic power. It seems we can never be given anything without a healthy dose of pain to go along with it.”
Sarah Raughley, novelist
Cait Corrain’s first book, a fantasy novel titled “Crown of Starlight” was scheduled to be in stores this month, but publishers Del Rey and Daphne Press rescinded their agreements.
The whole thing was first discovered by Xiran Jay Zhao and shared on TikTok.
The disturbing details were outlined by Olivia Craighead in The Cut. Among the lowlights, in December last year, Corrain created several fake profiles on Goodreads, a subsidiary of Amazon, then, under those pseudonyms, left reviews that disparaged upcoming releases from several authors—Black fantasy novelists Bethany Baptiste, Kamilah Cole, and romantasy novelist R.M. Virtues, Chinese author Molly X. Chang, Filipino writers Thea Guanzon and K.M. Enright, and white authors Danielle Jensen and Frances White.
In her misguided attempt to enhance Starlight, Corrain tried to sabotage the work of mostly Black fellow debut authors—fraud and treachery that couldn’t be undone.
A Publishing Primer
When authors make it through the filters of the Big Five publishing firms—Hachette Book Group, HarperCollins, Macmillan Publishers, Penguin Random House, and Simon & Schuster—they’ve won the lottery three times over. They’ve secured a literary agent and obtained a book deal from a major traditional publishing house.
These houses “hold the lion’s share in the book manufacturing and selling industry, and with so many resources at their disposal, they have the ability to make or break a book release,” as noted in Bookscouter. When one of these publishers considers a manuscript to be a select title, set apart from the dozens of titles anticipated to release in that calendar year, the book can receive a decent amount of backing and promotion, even from a debut author.
Reporting has shown that Black writers are less likely to have their “diverse stories” acquired by prominent houses. Things aren’t easy for any marginalized author, but for Black writers in particular, even support like uninterrupted time and space to write, grants and fellowships to help the process, and agents to represent them can all be difficult to attain. Something near supernatural has to occur for these book projects to survive, and when they do, contracts are typically struck at lower value.
This is clear, even as we take inventory of publishers associated with some of the writers we’ve mentioned.
For K.M. Enright, it’s Hachette Book Group, “a division of Hachette Livre, the third-largest publisher in the world.” For Guanzon, Harper Voyager, “a thriving global imprint [of HarperCollins] …the second largest major publishing company after Penguin Random House.” For Chang, Del Rey Books, an imprint of the Random House Group. But for Baptiste and R.M. Virtues, it’s independent publishers Sourcebooks and Strange Hungers.
Finally, a Win
Imagine, Black writer, after having overcome these and other inequitable norms of the industry, the euphoria of those initial glowing responses about your debut, then browsing Goodreads to find you’ve been targeted, victimized, and racialized. Review-bombed, in a deliberate and malicious attack, to set you back.
Corrain’s intention, to boost her own ratings on the site by covertly downgrading others, backfired, costing her publication deals. She was jettisoned by literary agent Rebecca Podos, too.
Though Corrain deflected and denied responsibility, her promising writing career lay in tatters along with her reputation. In a public apology days later, she claimed that mental health issues and substance dependence were to blame.
“I felt no ill will towards any of [the authors], it was just my fear about how my book would be received, running out of control.” she wrote. “I tried to cover my tracks.”
But what about the social, emotional, and financial impacts of her actions on those authors?
Corrain lived in Los Angeles at the time of the events, according to sources online. In California, creating fake social media accounts, also known as false personation or online impersonation, is not only a punishable public offense, but a crime that can leverage as much as $10,000 in fines and three years in prison.
Even in predatory circumstances like these, when Black people and other people of color, become aware of what’s happening to us, we’re often silent about it. We don’t feel free to speak out stridently, lest we suffer blowback upon ourselves and our livelihoods.
Still, despite this and the many other obstacles facing marginalized writers, there is yet a sense of optimism. For Baptiste, R.M. Virtues, and the others, there are many books to be written, published, and read.
Not necessarily so for Corrain, but magnanimously and altruistically, and no doubt to protect their psyches and careers, some of the affected writers have encouraged a show of mercy for the shunned Corrain, that she’s not subject to vitriol for what she has done, but left alone with her regrets.
P.L. STUART is the fantasy novelist of A Drowned Kingdom, the first of a saga series, noted by Kirkus Magazine for its extensive, imaginative worldbuilding. Stuart lives in Ontario, Canada.
