The Book I Paid to Erase

My debut novel was a YA sci-fi flop with orchid-based alien DNA. I wish that were a joke.

Let’s get this out of the way early:

Yes, I had a book traditionally published in my early 20s.

And yes, I paid to erase it from the internet.

This isn’t hyperbole. I mean it literally. It involved takedown notices, DMCA emails, used copies tracked down and destroyed like I was purging evidence. At one point, I hired a lawyer to get my Goodreads author profile removed. It’s gone now. You're welcome.

Why?
Because it was that bad.

But maybe the worst part is this: it didn’t start that way.

---

I Wrote a Dark Sci-Fi Novel. Then YA Happened.

I was 22 when I wrote the original draft. It was weird, bleak, messy—in a good way. Think X-Files meets Blade Runner, if both were directed by a slightly depressed art school dropout with a tendency to overuse monologue and vague metaphors about weather.

The story was about a man stranded on Earth, carrying alien DNA inside him—something hybrid, something unfinished. He wasn’t quite human, but he didn’t know what he was either. There was a quiet body horror to it. A shadow government. An FBI subplot. A few murder victims and one extremely questionable line about his DNA under a microscope looking “like an orchid.”

(That’s important. Remember the orchid. We’ll come back to it.)

It was messy, yes—but it was mine.

And somehow, against all odds, a publisher liked it.

More specifically, a small imprint of a Big Five publisher liked it. The kind that was quietly attempting to build up a speculative fiction catalogue. They signed me. I was thrilled. It was the dream, right? Not self-published. Not print-on-demand. Real deal, real shelf, real spine.

But the edits came fast—and with them, compromises.

---

When You’re Young, You Say Yes Too Much

They loved the book... but they also saw potential.
"Just a few tweaks."
"Let’s trim some of the word count."
"Could the main character be a little younger?"

Then came the bombshell:
“We think this could do really well in the young adult market.”

My internal organs shriveled.

The book was never written as YA. It wasn’t paced like YA, or structured like YA, or even particularly readable for a teenager unless that teenager had just watched Donnie Darko five times and was feeling some type of way. But I was young. Inexperienced. Desperate to please.

So I said yes.

I said yes when they softened the tone.
Yes when they introduced a love interest.
Yes when they made the protagonist 17.
Yes when they turned the FBI subplot into vague government nonsense.
Yes when they told me “we’re pushing for a trilogy” before book one had even gone to print.

And yes—when they decided that orchids should become a core motif.

Remember the orchid metaphor? A throwaway line about alien genetics?

Well, now it was everywhere.

Orchid tattoos.
Orchid graffiti.
Alien weapons shaped like orchid petals.
And a cover that looked like a graphic designer fell into a botanical garden and gave up halfway through.

---

It Flopped. Hard.

The book released with barely any marketing.
No tour, no ARC campaign, no push beyond a few automated social posts.
No paperback release—except in Australia, because Australia, apparently, does things its own way.

It died on arrival.

The reviews (from the few readers who even found it) were polite but lukewarm. The sequel? Never happened. The trilogy? Dead on arrival.

And I wasn’t even upset.

Because by then, it wasn’t my book anymore.

It had my name on it. But it wasn’t mine.

The strange, lonely little story I wrote in my apartment at midnight was gone—replaced with a watered-down, market-chasing version of something that might’ve sold two years earlier but was already dated by the time it hit shelves.

---

Then I Did What Any Shamed Writer Would Do: I Nuked It.

When the imprint was absorbed back into its parent company, the rights reverted to me. Quietly. Without ceremony. A silent, merciful funeral.

And I went to war.

• Got it removed from Amazon and other retailers? ✅

• Sent takedowns to any site selling the eBook? ✅

• Set up alerts on eBay and secondhand shops to buy out old stock? ✅

• Paid a lawyer to remove my Goodreads profile? ✅

I now own three boxes of that book. All sealed. All with that awful orchid cover.

I keep them as a reminder.

Of what happens when you stop trusting your gut.

Of what happens when you let other people turn your work into something they think might sell.

Of what happens when you mistake being published for being heard.

---

The Truth No One Likes to Say Out Loud

Here’s the part no one tells you in the starry-eyed writing groups and online pitch contests:

Getting published doesn’t always feel like success.

Sometimes it feels like betrayal. Sometimes you are the one doing the betraying.

I said yes to everything, thinking it would get me in the door. And maybe it did—for a moment. But I walked into the wrong house.

I often wonder what would’ve happened if I’d pushed back.
If I’d said: “No. This is an adult story.”
If I’d fought for the body horror, the loneliness, the weirdness.
If I’d found a publisher that actually wanted that version of the story.

But I didn’t. And I own that.

---

So Why Am I Telling You This Now?

Because it’s kind of funny.
Because it’s a little bit tragic.
Because if you’re writing something weird and it doesn’t fit the trend—good.
Because chasing the market won’t save you.
Because saying no is hard, but regret is harder.

And because, let’s be honest, no one should ever have to read a line of YA alien romance that ends with:
“You’re not broken. You’re just blooming.”

Kill me.

---

If You’ve Ever Written Something You Regret…

…you’re not alone. I’ve been there.

I built a literary bonfire, tossed my debut onto it, and walked away. Sometimes I look back at the flames. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I still get a ping from eBay that another copy’s appeared—and I groan, sigh, and add it to the pile.

But I’m still writing.

And this time? I’m not saying yes to everything.

---

📬 Subscribe for more behind-the-scenes stories from the trenches of indie and trad publishing — the kind people usually don’t talk about.

💬 Drop a comment: What’s the worst thing you’ve ever written? Or the hardest “yes” you regret saying?

Let’s trade war stories.

---