At Boundary’s Edge works on a very simple basis. One man (me) types his opinions on various aspects of science fiction and sends them off to the internet. Occasionally, people read those thoughts. At it’s core, that is how blogging works. One person says something, others react. Sometimes, in optimum conditions, a dialogue begins, conversation ensues, and we have something approaching a community as various people weigh in with their own thoughts on the topic. One of the underlying assumptions here is that, while there is an exchange of ideas and opinions, no money changes hands. Conversation is free, and that is a very good thing. The world is expensive enough without slapping a paywall in front of my book reviews.

Not everyone feels the same way. The catalyst for this post occurred over the summer, when well-known science fiction booktuber (REDACTED) changed his Discord server from an open forum to a Patreon-only zone. That’s far from the only example, however. Look up any booktuber, and you’re likely to see a Patreon (other crowdfunders are available) where you can toss a few coins to your favourite reviewer in exchange for . . . well, mostly kudos. Maybe it’s your name included in a video, or some snazzy merch. Patreon seems to be the go-to option for booktube, but blogs are hardly innocent in all this. Substack and similar newsletters allow for paid tiers, and Amazon wishlists pop up with increasing regularity. Speaking of Amazon, take a look at your favourite blogs and see how many are affiliates, earning a small commission via links to the Bezos moneymaker. Advertising is, after all, one of the oldest means of income on the web.

For the record, I don’t do any of these things, and there are two reasons for that. The first is that I don’t think what I’m doing here is worth your money. I would much rathe you go out and buy the books I recommend than fund my own dubious book hauling habits. The second reason is that I don’t want to drag money into what is, for me, a hobby. There are professional critics out there who are paid by magazines and websites to offer a more refined version of what I’m doing. There are independent journalists who rely on funding to do their job. I don’t begrudge them that, but it’s not for me.

The thing about money (other than being nice to have) is that it warps relationships. When I buy a book with my own money, nobody would take issue with me saying I didn’t like it. Worst case scenario, I’ve wasted my money. If someone else buys me a book, then maybe they’ll be upset I wasted their money. But it goes deeper than that. If I’m charging people for the stuff I write, then it shifts the balance of control. I’m no longer in complete control of what I want to write about. Whether real or merely perceived, there’s the sense that I’m writing to fulfil an obligation. Writing what other people want rather than what I want. On a tangent, I’m pretty sure this is what leads to booktube having become a cesspit of Top 10s, Book Hauls, and endless hype reviews of the same five series.

More to the point, who in their right mind would pay me for the gibberish I spew out? (REDACTED) argued that the Discord server was a commodity, which filled me with all sorts of uncomfortable opinions. A thriving community is not something to be leveraged for financial gain. I know first-hand how difficult it is to build a community, and to throw up a paywall after years of free access quite frankly offends me. To create something as a Patreon exclusive is one thing, but to rip it away from hundred of people because they can’t afford it borders on the cruel. But if the readership is unwilling to pony up the funds, then who? Well, one staggeringly wrongheaded opinion I saw a while back came from the now defunct (REDACTED) community, though I forget precisely who. It was this individual’s argument that publishers should pay reviewers directly. Their argument was based on a) time investment, and b) the work put in. I forget the exact maths, but it was based on an hourly wage and time spent both reading and reviewing.

Allow me to unpack that. Minimum wage in the UK right now is £11.44. If I take four hours to read a book (based on 100 pages/hour), and then another hour to type up the review, then that’s about £50 of wages. Even if we knock of the price of a brand new hardback that you’re getting to review, you’re looking at £25-30 per review based on that system. I don’t know the ins and outs of publishing, but I’m reasonably confident that no publisher is paying that, let alone any self-published authors. And even if they did, would you trust a review knowing it was paid for? I wouldn’t. Even worse, would a blogger feel comfortable giving books a bad review, knowing the publisher can cut off that supply of cash at a moment’s notice? I don’t know the answer to that. And let’s not even get into the messy business of how that money would be taxed, turning a hobby into a business.

As I said earlier, the world is an expensive place. I’m British, and we don’t talk about money as a matter of course. Ask someone their salary and you’ll be lucky to get off with an offended stare. But let’s take a look at a hypothetical blogger’s finances. Just how much money does it cost to go blogging these days?

The biggest flaw in working out any kind of blogging piggybank is that there is no set price for books. You can pick them up for free at the library, or you can splash out three figures on a special edition. Let’s assume that a new paperback is £10, a new hardback is £20, and a used copy is £2. All reasonable, round numbers. I’m one of those insane bloggers who reads way too many books in any given year, but to have a realistic and steady output as a blogger, I would say two reviews a month is what you’d want. Us maniacs who pop up with multiple reviews a week are outliers and should not be counted. So that’ll be 24 books. Say two are brand new hardbacks by favourite authors, and that you buy a new paperback every month beyond those two. The other reviews are cheaper used copies. That puts you at an annual book budget of £164. There’s a decent chance you have some kind of audiobook or eBook subscription, which I’ll put in as another £8 per month. I’ll stick to the books and not include various streaming services in this, but I will chuck in the WordPress subscription that costs £30 a year, since you’re fancy and don’t want a clutter of adverts.

Add it all up, and you’ve got £290. This can obviously be reduced by finding cheaper books, or by receiving ARCs, but it’s not unreasonable to think that the average blogger is paying £200 a year for their hobby. I imagine booktubers are even worse off due to initial investments in audio and camera equipment.

That sounds like a lot, doesn’t it? But think of what we’re getting out of it. Hours and hours of entertainment from the books themselves. A place to talk about them. Maybe even people to talk to. Thanks to the internet, we can meet people from all over the world, both readers and authors. Speaking purely for myself, I’ve met people who have changed my life in ways that is more than worth that £200 a year.

Blogging is a hobby, not a career. Compare it to something like international holidays, sports, wargaming, or even historical re-enactment, and the cost no longer looks all that high. We might occasionally feel we have something to say, but by and large we blog because it’s fun. Who are we to ask other people to fund our joy?

At Boundary’s Edge is free, now and always. because at the end of the day, this is a hobby, not a commodity.