In the creepily me-too new Apple series Pluribus, the most frightening aspect is an extraterrestrial hive mind. The juiciest morsel is fictitious. It isn’t real, but viewers have started to treat it that way (what with motion covers and chapter excerpts and asking for one), and they’re requesting the nonexistent release date. It’s an expression of the fandom tell: there are actual requests for this romantasy to leap from screen to store shelves.
Why a Fictional Romantasy Might Be Big Now
It’s a perfect storm genre. SFF—writers of science fiction, fantasy, and romance—have been the most rapidly metastasizing corner of the market, fueled by BookTok promotion and fantasy-first readership. U.S. print sales continue to be huge, with adult fantasy and romance enjoying big, consistent gains in the past two years, according to reports by Circana BookScan. Publishers Weekly has noted a strong trend: romance readers who are picking up series in fantasy, and vice versa.
Consider the Fourth Wing phenomenon — flashy world stakes, a ships-you-can-root-for core, collector’s editions, and an online community that never sleeps. The New York Times and industry trackers spent months recording chart dominance, while the platform’s BookTok tag has garnered hundreds of billions of views, elevating backlist titles into frontlist positions again and again. That’s not some fad — it is an engine.
What Winds of Wycaro Does for Pluribus Fans
Armed with Pluribus, we don’t have full chapters, but we have enough to pitch. Wycaro is a land of purple sand seas and lethal “slipsand,” a world that positively cries out for a map insert and sprayed edges. At its core is Lucasia, a capable, steel-nerved heroine, and Raban, a dangerous corsair whose very name causes in-show readers to swoon. It’s that interplay — manly lead meets magnetic foil — that is precisely the alchemy that turns loose viewers into binge readers.
The tonal lineage is catnip: high-concept adventure in the Brandon Sanderson tradition, crossed with the time-swept intimacy and historical texture that helped make Outlander a juggernaut. Even the meta-joke of “the fourth book in a trilogy” feels like a turning proposition, rather than an act of formation or retreat. This is not novelty merch; it plays like a legitimate shelf anchor.
The Playbook for Making It Real Beyond the Show
There’s precedent — and a blueprint. Apple has already dabbled in in-world publishing with Severance, releasing the self-help tome The You You Are as well as more lore pieces that helped to bolster engagement. And beyond that, TV has a history of making fictional authors best sellers: those Nikki Heat and Derrick Storm books from Castle sold millions under the “Richard Castle” byline, and Twin Peaks’ in-world diaries became cult classics.
A smart launch for a project made up of four interconnected novellas (alongside some supplementary short stories and the sort) would begin with Apple Books featuring, say, “Book One” — length: novella; contents: Chapters One–Three.
Then you’d have this launching in deluxe hardcover through an established genre imprint — Tor, Orbit, Del Rey; y’know? Commission cover art that veers toward metallic purples and seafoam greens; add endpaper maps and a slipsand field guide. Pair it with an audiobook narrated by Rhea Seehorn, the voice of Carol Sturka, who already comes with fan trust. A filmed “Carol” book tour — scripted as in-world question-and-answer sessions — would serve as a viral campaign.
Retailers would play ball. Barnes & Noble has been seeing huge sell-through on romantasy special editions, and indie stores frequently make displays of TV tie-ins. A sprayed edge, numbered bookplate limited run could go quickly, perhaps in hours. A truckload of early reader boxes that were seeded to BookTok creators would prime algorithmic lift before street date.
Risks and Rewards for the Studio Behind Pluribus
The dangers are creative and logistical. Transmedia can overpromise; if the prose feels thin or clashes with show canon, fans see it. Production schedules are tight, and good fantasy editorial doesn’t come around quickly. But the upside is significant. Nielsen has always found that viewers multitask TV, so discovery loops are instant. According to Parrot Analytics, franchises with books, podcasts, and artifacts layered in demonstrate measurable demand spikes around releases and keep conversation going between episodes and seasons.
There is also solid revenue in print. The price premium commanded by collectible formats — special hardcovers, sprayed edges, signed firsts — is surprisingly high without alienating the core readership, according to Circana data. If even a small fraction of Pluribus watchers become buyers, the math plays out. If the book breaks out based on the merits of what it is, then you’ve just made a new tentpole IP.
What Fans Want Next from Winds of Wycaro
Give us an actual Winds of Wycaro, with a taut first volume that makes good on the show’s damn teases: Lucasia’s pilgrimage across purple sands, her chance meeting with Raban, and a cliffhanger to mewl for Book Two. Package lore cleverly — maps, a corsair ledger, a glossary of slipsand terms — but keep the character stakes and chemistry in focus. Imagine a restricted, special-edition “Carol’s Annotated Edition,” with her sardonic notes in the margins reflecting the on-screen version of herself she projects.
Pluribus may be a nightmare machine, but its greatest work of fiction is wish fulfillment through and through. Wycaro feels as if it’s already halfway real. It just needs to be printed.
