The books the algorithm forgot.
Every author has them. We have the racehorses: the books that explode out of the gate, catch the algorithm’s attention and gallop happily into thousands of shopping carts.
And then there are the stragglers. The Ferdinands.They are stubborn. Slow-moving. Occasionally found standing in the middle of a field sniffing the flowers while their younger siblings race past.
We love them deeply. We also have no idea what to do with them.
That’s where Middle Child Books comes in.
Great books sometimes sell poorly.
Readers make decisions on books in a snap. Research suggests people can form a visual impression of a webpage in as little as 50 milliseconds. Authors and publishers have roughly the lifespan of a fruit fly to convince someone that a book belongs in their life, and there are a stupid number of moving parts. Cover, blurb, editorial review, visual content, price - GO!
Sometimes a book nails it.
But sometimes it shows up with the wrong haircut and says something weird.
- Maybe the cover doesn’t immediately signal the genre.
- Maybe the title is clever once you understand it, but confusing when you can't mind read.
- Maybe the blurb isn’t doing the story justice.
- Maybe the book launched during a crowded release week, missed the algorithm’s mysterious blessing, and was quietly escorted to the corner.
None of that means the story isn’t good.
In fact, authors will often tell you that the book nobody buys is their personal favorite. One of the best books they’ve written.
My own middle child book inspired this website.
I have a book, The Blessing Giver, that wasn’t selling. I knew why, or at least part of why. The title was confusing. Readers left reviews saying they thought the book was religious when it's magical fantasy.
The advice in this situation is to polish the marketing. Write up a more dramatic hook. Add glowing adjectives. Stand on a digital street corner shouting, “Readers are calling it unputdownable!”
The readers who read this book truly loved it, so I had good reviews and social proof to use, but the title confusion was just too big of a barrier when using digital marketing.
So I tried something else. I wrote ads that told the truth.
It worked.
The downloads started rolling in. Readers didn’t just grab the first book, they bought the rest of the series. In one day, the book that couldn’t get anyone’s attention finally started finding its readers.
People didn’t want me to pretend the book was already a runaway bestseller, and that changed the way I thought about book marketing.
Readers are overwhelmed by the constant barrage of books insisting they are perfect, addictive, breathtaking, unforgettable and absolutely destined to become your entire personality.
How about honesty and connection? A real conversation?
So. This is not a pity shelf.
Middle Child Books isn’t where bad books go for consolation cookies. It’s more like the island of misfit toys.
These are books authors still believe in. Books with a small but mighty group of devoted readers . . . and terrible timing, confusing titles, rebellious covers, niche premises or tropes that never took off on TikTok. Books that may not have charmed the algorithm but have so much to give.
I started Middle Child Books because I wanted to stop taking book marketing—and myself—quite so seriously. I wanted to be able to say, “Here's the super weird thing about this book,” instead of hiding it. I wanted readers to discover and love the quirks instead of being hit with the same tired claims.
Mostly, I wanted to help authors find homes for the books they love.
Because book babies are book babies. Even the one wearing hand-me-downs, making questionable choices, and wedged between two more successful siblings in the family photo.