Am I "selling out" if I write a trade book?
A few years ago, a friend and fellow academic told me—half-joking, half-not—that she was “worried” about writing a trade book. “It’s just… not what we do,” she said.
I knew what she meant.
In some corners of the academy, especially in the humanities and social sciences, there’s a lingering suspicion that writing for a general audience means diluting ideas, simplifying arguments or—worst of all—seeking attention.
Let’s put this to rest: writing for a broader public isn’t selling out. It’s stepping up.
The False Binary: Scholarly vs Popular
There’s a persistent myth in academic culture that you have to choose between rigor and accessibility. On one side: the monograph, steeped in citations, built for peer review, designed to advance a scholarly conversation. On the other: the trade book, marketed with flashy titles, meant to sit on bookstore shelves alongside memoirs and celebrity tell-alls.
But the most compelling books—especially the ones written by academics who have crossed over—refuse that binary. Think of Jill Lepore, Ibram X Kendi, Sarah Churchwell, Jonathan Haidt or Tressie McMillan Cottom. These scholars didn’t water down their ideas to reach the public. They sharpened them.
What these writers have in common isn’t just accessibility. It’s intentional communication: a desire to engage, explain and invite a wider readership into the conversation.
The Stakes Are Too High to Stay Silent
If you work in the humanities or social sciences, your research likely touches on subjects people outside academia care deeply about: democracy, inequality, identity, culture, ethics, education, memory, power. But here’s the hard truth: most of your potential readers will never pick up an academic journal.
That doesn’t mean they don’t care. It means the form and language of your work may be closing the door on the very people who need it most.
Writing for a general audience isn’t about ego. It’s about impact. If we want our ideas to matter beyond the seminar room, we have to go where the conversations are already happening—and contribute to them meaningfully.
What Selling Out Actually Means (and Doesn’t)
Let’s clarify a common fear: writing accessibly doesn’t mean dumbing things down. It means writing clearly.
If you’ve ever had to explain your research to a relative at Thanksgiving, you’ve already done the hardest part: translated a complex idea into plain language. That doesn’t make it any less intelligent. In fact, it often makes the idea more powerful. The clearer you are, the more you invite engagement, debate, understanding.
“Selling out” would mean compromising your values. But turning your work outward, towards readers who don’t have PhDs, isn’t a compromise. It’s an expansion. And in today’s media landscape, where misinformation thrives and nuance is scarce, well-argued, evidence-based, humane writing is more needed than ever.
My Own Turn Toward Trade Writing
When I first considered writing for a more general audience, I hesitated. I worried what my adviser would think, and whether it would hurt my academic career. I worried whether I’d be able to pull it off. But the more I spoke with editors, agents and readers outside the university, the more I realized something important: the world is hungry for what scholars know.
That shift in mindset—recognizing that my research wasn’t just academically interesting but publicly urgent—was what gave me permission to write differently. Not less rigorously, but more responsively. With curiosity. With voice. With care for readers who might never set foot in a library database.
You Have Something to Say—and People Who Want to Hear It
So if you’ve ever felt the pull to write beyond the walls of the academy, listen to it. The discomfort you feel? That’s not betrayal. That’s growth.
As you know, if you’ve been following this blog, we offer practical guidance for scholars like you who want to bring their ideas to broader publics. We talk about writing style, book structure, agents and editors, finding your voice, and—perhaps most importantly—finding your readers.