Writing a novel for book publication is really equivalent to writing a symphony for orchestral performance, whether or not you thrown-in essays and concertos for good overall physical/pseudo-chemical measure, the novels and symphonies arguably more pseudo-chemical than physical, with a pseudo-feminine rather than masculine connotation.
Be that as it may, few people habituated to rock music and their eBook corollary, would regard anyone who, in this day and age, writes a symphony for orchestra as particularly hip. Neither, for that matter, would it be particularly hip to write a novel, least of all for book publication, whether hardback or paperback.
As far as I am concerned, the sooner the radical social, political, and cultural pretensions of such people are exposed for what they are worth, the better! Don’t be fooled. Middle-class civilization, being a cross between pseudo-culture and civility, is largely neutronic, the product of bourgeois humanism, with little or no relevance to global civilization.
Anyone who thinks novels are on a par with rock music is deluded, and never more so than when he is of the novel-writing ilk, with delusions of hip grandeur. As a writer of novels, which would correspond to a pseudo-feminine genre given to a sublimated form of drama (narrative), he will be less masculine than quasi-pseudo-feminine, and therefore not even true to his gender, never mind relevant to anything global in more or less contemporary (electronic) terms.