Publishing
Category choice is one of those publishing decisions that can look clever on a spreadsheet and still be useless in the wild.
If it helps the right readers find the book, fine. If it mainly flatters the metadata, it’s just tidy paperwork. And once a book gets shoved into a shelf it doesn’t belong on, discovery gets worse, not better.
The odd bit is how often “accuracy” and “visibility” are treated like the same thing. They’re not. A label can be technically true and still be the wrong tool for the job.
If it helps the right readers find the book, fine. If it mainly flatters the metadata, it’s just tidy paperwork. And once a book gets shoved into a shelf it doesn’t belong on, discovery gets worse, not better.
The odd bit is how often “accuracy” and “visibility” are treated like the same thing. They’re not. A label can be technically true and still be the wrong tool for the job.
The trouble starts earlier, with the assumption that a category has to do all the work. It usually can’t. A decent blurb, a sensible cover and a clean opening chapter do more for discovery than a heroic bit of shelving. Categories matter, but they’re a blunt instrument. People read with their eyes first, not a metadata spreadsheet.
Sometimes the category is doing two jobs at once, and one of them is being ignored. It’s not just a signpost for readers. It also tells booksellers where to put the thing, which matters more than people like to admit.
A novel can be perfectly described and still sit in the wrong place for months. Then everyone wonders why it’s invisible. The shelf is part of the argument.
A novel can be perfectly described and still sit in the wrong place for months. Then everyone wonders why it’s invisible. The shelf is part of the argument.