Hieronymus Hawkes's Blog, page 3

The Case for Complicated Villains

(Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Antagonist)

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

For a long time, I wrote stories without proper villains.

Not out of rebellion. It just sort of…happened. The tension in my books usually came from systems, secrets, or internal struggle, more “man vs. society” or “man vs. existential dread” than “man vs. mustache-twirler.” I thought that was fine. I’d heard all the advice about needing a strong antagonist, but I shrugged and wrote anyway.

I’m reminded of Rustlers’ Rhapsody.

If you haven’t seen it, it’s a Western spoof starring Tom Berenger as Rex O’Herlihan, the classic singing cowboy from the 1940s and 50s. He’s square-jawed, well-meaning, always wins his fights, and never swears. He also knows he’s in a certain kind of series. The kind where good guys wear white hats and villains are conveniently evil and wear black. Simple. Predictable.

Until one day, a different kind of villain shows up.

A man in a white hat. Soft-spoken. Reasonable. Full of nuance. And he does the most dastardly thing imaginable. He makes Rex question himself.

Is he even the hero anymore? Is he still the good guy? Is he, gasp, confident in his sexuality? He never kissed the girl at the end of the episode (or other more explicit things.)

That moment stuck with me. Because that’s what a great antagonist does. They don’t just get in the way, they get under the protagonist’s skin. They challenge not just goals, but identity. They turn the story from a shootout into a psychological rodeo.

When I finally added a true antagonist to my last book, after many rewrites, POV shifts, and a gender merry-go-round, everything came into focus. The villain wasn’t pure evil (he was pretty bad though.) He had a past, a worldview, a reason. And that made him dangerous. Not because of what he did, but because of what he revealed in the protagonist. But even then It was an afterthought. A fix in postproduction.

Same thing happened in my current WIP. I started out villain-less, as usual, and the story meandered. I ended up adding one in late, postproduction again. But when I sat down for the rewrite and built an antagonist who believed he was the hero? Suddenly, the narrative tightened. The stakes sharpened. My main character had someone to push against and that friction created sparks and completely changed his focus.

I still think you can write a good story without a traditional antagonist. But if your plot feels soft around the edges, or your protagonist isn’t evolving, ask yourself this.

Who’s pressing on them? Who’s making them uncomfortable?

Not all villains need to wear black hats. Sometimes the best ones dress just like your hero and ask better questions.

So how do you build a villain like that?

Here are a few things I’ve learned:

They have to want something.

And not something generic like “power” or “chaos.” I mean something specific. Personal. Tangible. The kind of thing that puts them on a collision course with your protagonist. A good villain isn’t just evil, they’re in the way. Even better? They might be right.

They believe they’re the hero.

This one’s cliché because it’s true. Your antagonist should have a code, maybe even a noble one. They’re just willing to cross a few more lines to uphold it. If your reader can understand them (even if they don’t agree with them), you’ve got something potent.

They make your protagonist  react.

A good villain doesn’t just oppose the hero, they reveal them. Their presence should force hard choices. Compromise. Change. If your protagonist can stay the same person from beginning to end, the antagonist isn’t doing enough.

They should have limits.

Even the scariest antagonists need boundaries. Maybe they won’t hurt children. Maybe they secretly hope they’ll lose. The edges of their darkness can make them more interesting and more human.

Bonus points if they’re charming.

Not necessary, but oh-so-fun. A villain with a sense of humor, or a touch of style, or a seductive bit of charisma is more dangerous because they’re hard to hate. If your reader loves them a little, you’re doing something right.

At the end of the day, your antagonist is one half of the engine driving your story. They’re not just the obstacle, they’re the test. The crucible. The mirror. And if they’re doing their job, they’ll make your protagonist shine brighter by forcing them through the fire.

So. Who’s standing in your hero’s way? And what do they believe in so fiercely, they’re willing to become the villain in someone else’s story?

Writer Brain: A Survival Guide for the People Who Love Us

A Field Guide to Your Friendly Neighborhood Narrative Goblin

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

If you live with a writer, love a writer, or just occasionally share space with one, you may have noticed some unusual behaviors: far-off stares, muttering at odd hours, sudden emotional reactions to fictional events, and a total inability to answer a simple question like “Can you be normal for like five minutes?” (Even after making direct eye contact.)

Congratulations. You’re dealing with Writer Brain.

It’s not a condition. It’s a lifestyle. And yes, it’s contagious, but only if you live with us or stand too close to the story board.

Here’s your field guide to surviving (and maybe even appreciating) life with someone whose brain is always in draft mode.

The Zoning-Out Phenomenon

Writers don’t always live in the moment. Sometimes we live in six alternate timelines where our main character is about to be kidnapped, dumped, or get a new haircut that changes everything.

What it looks like: Blank stares. Unblinking silence. Delayed responses, or no response at all.

Things to try: Gently wave a cookie in front of us until eye contact is restored. Or whisper, “I brought snacks,” and back away slowly. Or alternatively, “Murderbot is on.”

The Dialogue Loop

We rehearse conversations. A lot. Sometimes out loud. Sometimes while pacing. Sometimes while brushing our teeth.

What it looks like: Whispered arguments with nobody present. Startling laughter in an empty room.

Things to try: Do not assume we’re talking to you. We aren’t. (Unless we say your name. Then, probably.)

Sudden Emotional Whiplash

We may cry in the car because a character died. Or rage at dinner because a scene isn’t working.

What it looks like: Mood swings with no real-world trigger. Possibly shouting “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO HER?” at the Word doc.

Things to try: Nod, listen, and do not suggest we take a break. We’re already spiraling. Offer a hug.

Unusual Google History

We research things. Strange things. Things that may worry your neighbors.

What it looks like: “How to remove bloodstains,” “What poisons are traceable,” or “How fast does a body decompose in space?” Perhaps the FBI has shown up at your door.

Things to try: Do not panic. It’s fiction. Most likely. (If we start muttering in Latin and lighting candles, maybe check in.)

Writing Time is Not Talk Time

When we’re writing, we are mentally in another universe. Even if we’re sitting right next to you.

What it looks like: Headphones in. Blank document open. Occasional sighing.

Things to try: Wait until the typing stops, or slide us a note like it’s 8th grade algebra. Tapping us may startle us badly. Like, a balloon popping next to your ear bad.

We Use You for Material

Yes, we steal from real life. That funny thing you said? In chapter six now. That fight we had? Heavily fictionalized. Probably. I mean certainly.

What it looks like: A character with disturbingly familiar dialogue.

Things to try: Take it as a compliment. You made the cut. The good news is it’s likely a positive inclusion, not like the people that piss us off, who become villains or people that die horrible deaths. In the story of course.

Book Launch Mode = Emotional Combustion

Publishing a book is like birthing a grouchy baby and then throwing it to wolves. With a press release.

What it looks like: Imposter syndrome. Mood swings. Obsessive refreshes of Amazon rankings. Almost as much as I refresh my Substack feed.

Things to try: Say, “I’m proud of you,” and mean it. Then hide the wine.

The Vanishing Act

Sometimes we disappear into writing marathons. It might be a writing deadline or just inspiration, which can be fickle and fleeting at times. This may happen late at night, early in the morning, or during what was supposed to be a casual Sunday.

What it looks like: Lights on at 2 a.m. Coffee mugs multiplying. A cryptic Post-it note that says, “Don’t knock. Mid-scene.”

Things to try: Let us ride the wave. If we’re lucky, we’ll emerge with a completed chapter, or at least a coherent sentence, and only mild caffeine tremors.

The Research Rabbit Hole

It starts innocently, just looking up how long it takes to sail from Lisbon to Mumbai. Three hours later we’re experts on 16th-century nautical knotwork and Portuguese shipboard recipes.

What it looks like: Tabs. So many tabs. A glazed look. A faint scent of overheated synapses.

Things to try: Ask if we’ve remembered to eat. Then ask again. We probably didn’t hear you the first time.

Plotting in the Shower

The hot water is magic. It opens the brain portals. Whole plot arcs are born between shampoo and conditioner.

What it looks like: A shriek from the bathroom followed by “I HAVE TO WRITE THIS DOWN!” and a damp writer running past you in a towel, leaving chaos and steam in their wake.

Best response: Hand us a notebook. Don’t ask questions. Just accept that your loofah may now contain spoilers.

The Read-Aloud Trap

We will absolutely ask you to listen to something we just wrote. Maybe it’s a paragraph. Maybe it’s twenty pages. We’ll say, “Just tell me what you think.” But what we mean is, “Tell me it’s perfect or lie creatively.” (actually, I want real feedback, but your mileage may vary)

What it looks like: Puppy eyes. An open laptop. A sudden performance of chapter three.

Things to try: Drop everything and listen. Be honest, but gentle. Offer praise before critique. And know that “reading a thing” may become a recurring ritual.

The Post-Rejection Ice Cream Ritual

Every writer hits a wall sometimes. Maybe it’s a form rejection. Maybe it’s a critique that hit too close. Maybe we just re-read something we wrote at 2 a.m. and now need to make peace with the universe.

What it looks like: Melancholy sighs. The slow unwrapping of a spoon. An empty pint of rocky road and a thousand-yard stare.

Things to try: Bring backup ice cream. Sit quietly nearby. Say things like, “You’re brilliant,” and, “That agent has no vision.” Bonus points if you can quote our own work back at us.

Final Note

We love you. We really do. Even when we forget to text back, miss part of the movie, or pause mid-conversation to scribble something down. Thank you for being the anchor that lets us drift into fictional chaos and still come home, back to reality.

If you ever wonder whether it’s worth it, just remember, we probably wrote you into the story. And you were awesome.

I’m Always in Deep POV

(A confession, a defense, and possibly a warning label)

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

The other day, my wife said something to me. I don’t know what it was. I didn’t hear it. Didn’t even register the sound.

I distinctly remember her letting the dog out, using my amazing peripheral vision, then I lost the thread, because I was back in Deep POV.

We were sitting outside on our beautiful deck in the sunshine. I was mid-scene. Typing, staring, obsessing over a line that was either brilliant or awful. I wouldn’t know until later. Time ceased to exist.

A minute or two later, I have no idea, it might have been an hour, but I come up for air as my son steps outside to let us know he is going to bring our other dog out. (Those two cannot be in the same space, they will go at each other) So I look around for the other dog. I tell him to hold on because she is out here.

My wife says, “I told you I was putting her inside.”

Sorry. Missed it.

I was in deep POV.

Like, really deep. The kind of narrative state where you no longer have a body. You are the character. You’re bleeding into the page. You are the dialogue. Your spouse could be juggling flaming swords in the kitchen and you’d just wonder vaguely if it smells like popcorn.

Later, she commented on my lack of attention.

My dry-witted reply? “I’m always in deep POV.”

She burst out laughing so hard I thought she might drop her tea. I don’t blame her.

But the thing is…I was only sort of kidding, and she knew it.

Look I get it, it’s pretty aweful. I should actually be paying attention to her, but I’m trying to finish this rewrite. She is very understanding. Amazing really. Really.

What  Is  Deep POV (for the blissfully unaware)?

It’s writer speak for when you inhabit a character so completely that you remove all narrative distance. You don’t say “she felt angry.” You say: He was late. Again. You don’t say “he realized he was in danger.” You say: The air shifted. Too quiet. Too still.

Deep POV is writing without a safety net. It’s full immersion. It’s storytelling without a narrator’s seatbelt.

It’s also apparently a really solid excuse for not hearing your spouse ask if you took the chicken out of the freezer. (I didn’t.)

Side Effects May Include:

Talking to yourself in character voices.Zoning out during real conversations because you’re mentally rewriting imaginary ones.Answering questions ten minutes after they were asked.Tuning out during meetings to mentally storyboard your next chapter.Narrating your own life in third person.Accidentally calling your spouse by your main character’s name (do not recommend).

So yes. I’m always in deep POV.

It’s not just how I write. It’s how I am now.

Sorry in advance if I miss your birthday party or forget to pick up milk.

It’s not personal. I’m just currently inside the head of a sarcastic hacker trying to defuse a situation with a vampire technocrat.

You know. Tuesday stuff.

The One Thing Indie and Trad Authors Agree On (Besides Coffee)

Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Mailing List

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

Writers don’t talk about mailing lists at cocktail parties. We talk about story ideas, bad reviews, and how our characters are misbehaving. But behind every author who makes this thing work, indie or trad, is a mailing list.

It’s not glamorous. It’s not fast. And it kind of feels like yelling into a mailbox at first. But trust me, it’s the single most powerful, reliable tool you’ll ever have as a writer.

And yes, I know how boring that sounds. But give me a minute, because this thing matters.

Nobody Wants to Build One

It’s not sexy. It’s not instant. It doesn’t go viral. It’s the literary equivalent of flossing. We know we should do it, we don’t, and then we regret it when our gums bleed at launch time.

And at first? It feels pointless. You put a form on your website and two people sign up, your mom and someone who meant to download a coupon.

But that’s how it starts for everyone.

It’s the Only Thing You Own

Social media is a rental. The algorithm giveth, and the algorithm taketh away.

Your mailing list? That’s yours. You can download it. Move it. Take it with you. Use it to launch your next book or tell your readers about your next weird project.

If Instagram bans your account, or Twitter catches fire (again), your list still works. And it’s still yours.

What a Mailing List Actually Does

Launches your book (people on your list are your warmest leads.) Keeps readers engaged between releases. Lets you test ideas, share bonuses, build loyalty. Creates long-term relationships instead of chasing viral moments. It’s portable, meaning you can integrate it into different platforms to feed into it. Also? It makes you look like a professional. Because you are one.

So Where Do You Get This Magical Mailing List?

Let’s talk mailing list services. These are the platforms that store your subscribers, let you send emails, and manage the behind-the-scenes stuff.

1. Mailchimp

The Coca-Cola of email platforms.

Pros:

Solid templates and automationsDecent free tier (up to 500 subs)

Cons:

Free plan has gotten stingierClunky interfaceNot author-focused

Verdict: Okay for beginners, but not the friendliest option for writers.

2. MailerLite

The indie darling.

Pros:

Author-friendlyGreat automationsFree for up to 1,000 subs

Cons:

Slightly fewer integrations

Verdict: A great option for most authors starting out.

This is what I use.3. Substack

You’re here already.

Pros:

Easy to useBuilt-in audience discoveryNo up-front cost

Cons:

Less control, no gated content or magnetsLimited segmentation or automation

Verdict: Excellent starting point. Can be paired with another service later.

4. ConvertKit

For the detail nerds.

Pros:

Powerful automationsClean interfaceFree up to 1,000 subs

Cons:

Slightly steeper learning curve

Verdict: Great for serious long-term growth.

5. BookFunnel (paired with MailerLite or ConvertKit)

For delivering free stories or samples.

Verdict: Ideal if you’re using reader magnets to build your list.

Even If You Only Have 10 People…

That’s 10 people who chose to hear from you. That’s 10 more than you had last week. That’s a village. A launch squad. A seed.

It grows. Quietly. Organically. And then one day, it matters more than anything else.

I also recommend downloading the list periodically to safeguard it. You can export and import email addresses.

TL;DRStart now. Don’t wait until launch week.Pick a platform that won’t make you hate your life.Put your signup link everywhere.Treat your readers like friends, not customers.Your mailing list is your long game.

It’s not glamorous. But neither is compound interest.

And both will carry you farther than you think.

Youthful Dreams of Greatness

Growing up weird and hopeful in a world that didn’t know what to do with either

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

When I was young, my best friend and I started learning Elvish. Yes, that Elvish—Tolkien’s, complete with Tengwar script and breathy pronunciation guides. We kept a notecard tucked into our school stuff so we could pass secret messages in class, dreaming of other worlds just beyond the veil of this one.

I grew up in West Virginia in the late ’60s and early ’70s. No internet. No cable. We were about ten years behind the rest of the country in just about everything, except imagination. The mountains kept the signal out, but they also kept the magic in. And when you grow up surrounded by trees and silence, your mind fills in the blank space with stories.

I wasn’t learning Elvish just for fun. I was training. Preparing. Just in case someone showed up one day and whispered, “You’ve been left behind. But we’ve come back for you.”

I didn’t want to be Frodo. I wanted to be the elf who walked in halfway through the story—mysterious, ancient, and already fluent in the language no one else could speak. I didn’t want to be normal, because I didn’t feel like I belonged to the world around me. I wanted that to mean something.

Looking back, I think I just wanted to feel exceptional. Not famous. Not rich. Just…different in a way that mattered.

And maybe that’s the root of a lot of creative ambition. That quiet, childlike hope that the world is more than it seems, and maybe, if you write well enough, dream big enough, or stay strange enough, someone might show up and say, “You were right. You didn’t imagine it. You belong somewhere else.”

They haven’t shown up, yet.

But I still have the notecard. (Not really, but it felt like a cool ending to this.)

How I Avoid Writing

And What I’m Doing About It, Sometimes

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

The Real Struggle

For me, the hardest part of writing isn’t the writing. It’s sitting down to do it. I can usually find twenty other things that suddenly feel urgent. Laundry, emails, the junk drawer I haven’t opened since the Obama administration. And once I do sit down, I’ll scroll Substack “for inspiration,” or watch Facebook reels until I forget what year it is. I’ve cut out video games (mostly,) but somehow, I still manage to lose two hours to nonsense that feels vaguely productive in the moment. And yet…this is the job. Butt in seat. That’s the whole deal.

Creative Avoidance Is a Superpower

I wish I had a glamorous excuse. Something dramatic, like a tortured creative spirit or a Victorian illness. But the truth is much dumber. The dishwasher needs to be emptied. I should check in on that thing I posted last night. Oh look, someone liked it. I have to reply to EVERYONE (but that’s also important to me.) Let’s go down that rabbit hole and pretend it’s networking. Oh, I haven’t read the paper yet. I have to print out the sudoku, and then complete it, duh.

I am a world-class creative avoider. A silver medalist in “just checking one thing.” A black belt in “I’ll write after I fold these towels.” If procrastination were an Olympic sport, I’d have a shelf of medals, assuming I ever got around to building the shelf.

The Internet Is a Trap (and You Know It)

The scary part is how easily the distractions masquerade as productivity. Reading Substack posts about writing feels like writing-adjacent activity. Same with industry articles, interviews with authors, or watching reels of someone else cleaning their kitchen while I think, “Ah yes, I too should clean my kitchen.” Suddenly it’s lunchtime. And I’ve written…nothing.

I used to lose hours to video games. Cutting those helped. But digital distractions mutate like viruses. Facebook reels stepped up to fill the void, and Substack, ironically, can be both muse and mirage.

Writing vs. Starting to Write

Here’s the weird part, I actually like writing (sometimes.) Once I’m in the chair, fingers on keys, document open, those first few words typed, I’m fine. It’s not always brilliant, but I never regret the time spent. It’s one of the few activities that I don’t feel like I should be doing something more useful. The other is spending time with friends or family.

The hardest part isn’t writing. It’s starting. Getting past all the other things that the internet has to offer, especially my new addiction (Substack,) is the hardest part.

There’s this narrow little canyon between intending to write and actually writing. And that ten-minute window between opening the doc and typing the first real word? That’s where hope goes to die. That’s where snacks are fetched, browsers are opened, and self-doubt throws a party.

I am getting a little better with self-doubt, but I’ve also been doing this for 17 years now. Wish I had more to show for that, but here we are (see procrastination mentioned earlier.)

What Helps (Sometimes)

I’ve tried different strategies. No fancy systems. No bullet journals. Just low-resistance tactics:

Opening my doc before I check email.I used a word counter calendar (for about 3 months, until I needed to edit instead of write.) That actually worked for my brain. I need to go back to using it.Setting a short word goal.Getting a limited few of the Prominent Procrastination Things (I really tried to find a P word for ‘Things’ but alas) done beforehand.

Sometimes they work. Sometimes they don’t. But when they do, it’s like tricking my brain into remembering I like this job.

The Ongoing Battle

There’s no silver bullet. No productivity hack that solves this forever. Just the choice to try again today. And tomorrow. And the day after that. One of my favorite sayings is, We All Make Choices.

Most days I win, even if it’s barely qualifying. Some days I lose to distraction. But I try to be kind to myself about it, because shame is just another form of resistance. What matters is showing up again, imperfectly and honestly.

So, if you’re also struggling to sit down and write, you’re not broken. You’re not lazy. You’re just human.

Put your butt in the seat. That’s the work. I’ll meet you there.

How to Actually Market Your Indie Book

Without Losing Your Mind

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

I have told a few of you that I planned to do this. Consider this the brain dump. A big one.

The most complete epic full launch calendar will be at the bottom if you want to skip all of this.

This post is built around what I’ve learned through publishing my books, running a restaurant, taking some lumps, and doing a lot of reading. It focuses on indie publishing, but traditional authors, don’t leave yet. Unless Oprah plucks your book from the pile, you’re going to be doing a lot of this yourself too.

Let’s get into it.

Marketing. Most of us never wanted to consider taking this on. We want to write stories, not run a small business. I was going to write a masterpiece that agents would clamor for, and the book would sell itself. Newsflash. Books don’t sell themselves. One of the things I learned when I owned a restaurant was that whatever business you think you are in, you are in the marketing business. Even if it’s just for your one lone novel.

Good news is you can market your book effectively without a massive PR budget or losing your creative spark. It just takes a smart strategy and the right tools. Which I will provide, or at least hint at.

Let me walk you through what I wish I’d known sooner. Grab a coffee. Let’s make this make sense.

Make sure you plan in enough time to get all the marketing things in the before it launches. Another thing that is free is putting a little blurb in the back of your book asking for the reader to post a review wherever you are selling your book. It is the kindest thing they can do, other than telling all their friends (or buying a billboard sign to scream about your book.)

Start Before You’re Ready

You don’t need a finished manuscript to start marketing. In fact, the best time to start is when you decide you’re going to publish.

Start building your online home, your website, your newsletter. You don’t need 10,000 followers. You just need a few people who are genuinely interested in what you’re doing.

Building the mailing list is a key to success for Indie authors. You can take that with you even if every social media site disappears. The best way I’ve found is using Bookfunnel, using a free giveaway. A short story or a previous novel or novelette that you give away in trade for their email address. Everything should siphon into your mailing list, whether that is your author site of any of the social media you happen to inhabit.

Add your book to Goodreads as soon as you have a title and a rough blurb. Slap a placeholder cover on there. Then, as you’re writing, post little updates—”I’m 25% through,” “Halfway there!” That stuff pops up in readers’ feeds. It’s free visibility.

And yes, pick a couple of social platforms that don’t make you want to scream. TikTok, Instagram, Threads, (Substack, hello) wherever you’re comfortable. The goal is consistency, but you don’t want to beat people over the head with your book. There will be time to pimp your book later. Right now you just want to connect.

Build Anticipation (Without Being Annoying)

We’re not shouting “BUY MY BOOK” into the void. We’re teasing, sharing, inviting.

We can’t all be Chuck Wendig or John Scalzi, but the best use of social media in my opinion (as of all of this is my opinion) is to just be cool, as my old roommate used to say. Be yourself, share things, add some humor if you are capable of that. But honesty goes a long way. You are not a salesman per se. Actually you are, but you are selling yourself, not your books. Not right away anyway. There is a time and place for that.

Start with ARC readers, people who’ll read your book before it launches.

Your “Street Team.”

I built a page on Facebook for my friends and followers that is a hopeful launch point for my street team. I give them all sorts of behind the scenes stuff. Early covers, regular updates, with the hope that they will help get the word out when the time comes. This could be your newsletter subscribers, a few close readers, or folks you recruit through sites like BookFunnel, NetGalley, or even Itsy Bitsy Book Bits. You’re not paying for reviews, you’re paying for reach. You need to be able to offer a free version of your book for this. If you are in KDP Select you can’t legally do this ( they have exclusive rights while you are in it), and if Amazon catches you, that book, and possibly you, will be blocked from Amazon. For an independent publisher that is a prison you want to avoid. Say what you want about Amazon, they still sell the most books, especially for self-published authors.

Keep in mind all of these promotion sites program months in advance so you will have to set this up at a minimum of 3 months out, safer earlier.

Cover reveals? Make those a celebration. Do a special email for your list, then share it on socials with a fun backstory or an embarrassing first draft of the design (trust me, we all have one). There are ways to do partial reveals as a teaser, with the buildup to the full reveal. Check out BookBrush for that.

If you’re doing Kickstarter? This is your window. Run it 2–3 months before launch. You can offer signed books, bonus stories, even name-a-character perks. This probably won’t work for traditionally published books. At least not until you already have it published. You might be able to do a special addition later.

And while you’re at it, don’t sleep on Goodreads giveaways. They still work. You will have to have your book listed there and an author login. Schedule one about a month before launch. The ebook giveaways are super easy to do.

BookBub has a Launch a New Release page now. Submit to their BookBub Ads, and the BookBub Featured Deal and hope they pick you. They also do a Preorder drive.

On top of the ones mentioned above, there a few widely known sites that are renown for doing reviews, Kirkus, BlueInk, and for self-pub authors Booklife, a subset of Publishers Weekly. Several of these have book prize contests as well. These are not cheap and I don’t really know if the ROI is great here, but if they love your book, it is a great blurb for your book sites and even your book cover.

Launch Week: Don’t Panic

This is when it all goes live, and yeah, it’s exciting and stressful and kind of like sending your kid to their first day of school.

Send out a launch email. Post on your channels. Do a big “It’s Here!” update. Keep it personal. Tell people what this book means to you. That’s way more effective than screaming “NEW BOOK OUT NOW!”

And yes use paid promos if you can swing it. Written Word. Fussy Librarian. They help. Book Bub ads, they are a little pricey but they are usually a very good Return on Investment (ROI.)

The best ROI that I have seen is Facebook and Amazon ads. Bryan Cohen taught me how to do Amazon ads. He is actually really good at it and his program is only $8. If your book is on Amazon and you want to actually sell of them you need to do ads. You have to, sorry. Unless you are famous. And maybe even then, so that it shows up in searches.

Also, don’t ghost your ARC team. Gently remind them to leave reviews if they liked the book. (No chasing, no guilt trips.)

Post-Launch: Keep the Engine Running

Here’s what no one tells you: launch week isn’t the finish line. It’s the starting gate.

Run a sale 30–60 days after launch—drop the price to 99¢ or even free, then stack a few promos. Try again for a BookBub Featured Deal. Do BookBub ads. Keep posting behind-the-scenes stuff, reader reactions, memes. Engage, don’t disappear.

Reviews are a big part of this, it doesn’t even really matter if they are great, I have 1-star reviews. I feel like they validate the experience. But 100 reviews seems to be the magic number that makes your book legit in a lot of people’s eyes. I worked very hard to get my first 100 on Amazon. Don’t be afraid to ask or remind people you gave the book to do a review, even if it just says, “I loved it!”

Oh, and if you’ve got an audiobook? Submit to Chirp. I used Findaway Voices, which is now owned by the same people that own Spotify. If goes everywhere that sells audiobooks. There is also ACX (Audible) and Author’s Republic.

I also use Books2Read for distribution, which will send it everywhere, ebook, print, and audiobook. https://books2read.com/faq/author/

It is the backside for Draft2Digital, which is owned by Smashwords now. It is a place to create your book outside of Amazon.

And please, start teasing your next project. Even if it’s just a mood board or a snippet. Keep the momentum going.

Tools That Made This Easier

Here are a few things that saved me from total chaos:

14-Day Author Ad Profit Challenge by Bryan CohenCanva (for graphics and teasers)BookFunnel (for ARC delivery and reader magnets)Kickstarter + BackerKit (for pre-orders and funding cool stuff)TikTok hashtags like #spacebooks, #scifibooks, #dystopianbooks Free Marketing for Books – curated resource list of free promo sites and strategies

Sources Worth Exploring

I didn’t figure this stuff out alone. I leaned on brilliant people and generous resources:

Bryan Cohen’s Best Page ForwardAlessandra Torre’s Goodreads strategyNJ Hogan and Raquel Delemos on TikTok marketingBookBub submission strategiesReview outreach via NetGalley, BookSirens, and Itsy Bitsy Book Bits

Want a copy of the full launch calendar? Drop me a comment or reply, I’m happy to share a printable version.

Until next time, keep writing. Keep connecting. And remember, it’s okay to be proud of your work and tell people about it.

And if you want to be part of my street team, there is a short test you have to take (not really) just let me know.

Independent Publishing Book Launch Master Calendar

(12–6 Months Before Launch): Foundation + Platform BuildFinalize manuscript and developmental edits.Define launch goals: sales, visibility, reviews, community.Build or update website (lead magnet + blog).Create or grow email list with reader magnet (via BookFunnel).Create/update Goodreads entry with placeholder coverStart engaging on social media platforms (TikTok, Instagram, Threads, BookTok, etc.)Soft launch Kickstarter page (if crowdfunding), gather feedbackBuild press/media list, begin outreach to bloggers and podcasters.(6–3 Months Before Launch): Early Promotions + KickstarterRun Kickstarter campaign (17–30 days); use BackerKit afterDesign Kickstarter rewards tiers: eBook, paperback, signed editions, character namingAdd blurbs, ISBN, and release date to GoodreadsPost writing status updates on Goodreads at 25%, 50%, 75%Set up ARC outreach: NetGalley, influencers, newsletter swapsCreate Goodreads Giveaway (~L-90)Apply for BookBub Featured Deal and submit multiple titles monthlyBook ads: Facebook, Amazon, BookBub CPM adsSet up your Bookfunnel, Netgalley, BookSirens, and Itsy Bitsy Book Bits reviews.(3–1 Months Before Launch): Build BuzzFinalize cover reveal — update Goodreads, run cover contestsSchedule blog tour + podcast interviewsShare excerpt or teaser chapters on blog & social media.Begin TikTok video series: book themes, character sketches, “if you liked X…” contentPost daily or weekly on BookTok with genre-specific hashtagsCreate and schedule email sequence: behind-the-scenes, sneak peeksSubmit print proof; order author copiesL-30 to Launch Day (Final Month): Hype + ExecutionDaily countdowns on social media (text, audio, visual)Host a virtual launch event via Zoom/Streamyard.Post Goodreads Event + invites, encourage reviews from ARC readersSend press release to local + online outlets.Post curated “non-promo” content using storytelling or humor on TikTok/InstagramRun final email push to list.Launch Week“It’s Live!” status update on all platforms.Like/respond to Goodreads reviews; avoid negative onesPost on Goodreads Event thread.Run Facebook and Amazon adsBegin paid newsletter promotions (Written Word, ENT, Robin Reads, etc.).Begin TikTok/BookTok response campaign with reactions, thank-yous, or reader shout-outs.Monitor sales and social traction.Post-Launch (1–6 Months): Sustain & GrowOpen BackerKit store for ongoing salesApply for additional BookBub deals (free/discounted books)Use TikTok for continued story-based or meme-driven contentRun multi-author giveaways or cross-promos.Submit to free promo sites (Indie Book Reviewer, Authors Den)Schedule book clubs, signings, workshopsTalk to your local bookstores about doing an eventStart pre-buzz for next book.

Sources & References

This master calendar was built using insights from a wide range of experienced authors, marketers, and industry resources. Many of these are freely available and worth checking out:

Kickstarter for Authors – Anthea Sharp’s Comprehensive Kickstarter Campaign Checklist Ashley Emma’s Book Launch & Marketing Checklist BookBub Marketing Examples – from the Ultimate Collection of Book Marketing Examples PDF 50 Ways to Market Your Book – Teresa Miller’s guide to creative and grassroots promotion (out of print) Free Marketing for Books – curated resource list of free promo sites and strategies Goodreads Marketing Plan – tips from Alessandra Torre’s Goodreads Release Plan and marketing workshop transcriptTikTok for Authors – tips gathered from NJ Hogan’s 20Booksto50K post and Raquel Delemos’ article on viral BookTok strategy How to Get More BookBub Deals – detailed strategic guide with submission tips, timing, and ROI considerations

These resources informed the structure, timing, and tactics shared in this post. I’ve curated them, distilled the best parts, and adapted them into a streamlined path you can follow without needing a marketing degree or unlimited time. Some of these are no longer available online.

So You’re Thinking About Publishing

A Cautionary Tale With Two Doors

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

I queried my first novel 86 times. Another book? 30 more tries. A few nibbles, no bites. Eventually, I realized the Big Five weren’t going to slide into my inbox with confetti and a book deal.

So I self-published Effacement. I hired an editor. I designed the cover myself (which, let’s be honest, deserves its own separate cautionary tale about first impressions and the tyranny of font choices). It worked out: 166 reviews and a 4.3 on Amazon, 454 ratings and a 4.2 on Goodreads. Not bad for a debut from a guy who once used ‘he ejaculated’ as a dialogue tag without irony.

That was enough to qualify me for the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association based solely on indie sales. That felt like success. Real, earned, scrappy success.

Now, let’s talk about those two doors.

Traditional Publishing:
Yes, it’s still the gold star for many writers. But it’s also harder to break into than ever. Without an agent, you’re not even getting past the velvet rope at most major houses. And getting an agent? Picture an Olympic sport involving spreadsheets, soul-searching, and interpretive dance performed in rejection letters.

And if you do make it? You might get a small advance, broken up into neat little chunks: one when you sign, one when you turn in revisions, and one when the book hits shelves. No royalties until the advance earns out. And depending on your contract, you might get zero input on your cover, your title, or your marketing plan (which may or may not involve your dog and a ring light).

Self-Publishing:
You are the captain. The navigator. The over-caffeinated deckhand muttering about metadata. You control the timeline, the cover, the pricing. You also control the budget, the typos, and the existential crises at 3 a.m.

But the upside? You get to make the thing your way. You learn. You build. You connect directly with readers. There’s a certain joy in skipping the gatekeepers and finding the people who actually want your time-traveling haunted cookbook memoir.

What No One Tells You

Traditional success doesn’t always mean big money. Advances are shrinking. Midlist authors are often on their own for promo. You still need to hustle.

Indie success doesn’t mean overnight fame. It takes time, effort, and consistency. But if you do the work, you can build a solid audience. Yeah, Hugh Howey got a trad book deal and a tv series but he’s an outlier, not a roadmap.

Stigma around self-publishing has faded significantly in recent years, especially in sci-fi, fantasy, romance, and thriller. Some of the biggest names started (and stayed) indie.

So which is better?
Neither. Both. Depends on the story. Depends on you. What kind of writer are you? How much control do you want? How quickly do you want (or need) to publish?

Traditional publishing means fitting into someone else’s schedule. Self-publishing moves at the speed of your own caffeine tolerance and deadline panic.

But here’s the truth—there are no guarantees either way. No sure path to success, no magical formula. Just work, persistence, and a little bit of stubborn optimism.

So maybe the better question is what does success look like to you?
Is it money? A book deal and a launch party with a chocolate fountain and someone playing the theremin while reading your blurbs aloud? A glowing review from someone you admire? A quiet reputation for telling unforgettable stories?
Knowing that might help you decide which path is right for you.

Whatever road you take, just know this, you’re not alone. There’s no wrong door. Just different hallways. And if you wander through both for a while before finding where you belong? That’s okay too.

How about you? Have you braved the query trenches, launched your own indie release, or done a bit of both? I’d love to hear your experience, what worked, what didn’t, and what surprised you.

Drop it in the comments. Let’s compare hallway maps.

The Lies Writers Tell Themselves

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

“I’ll just write for five minutes.”

We’ve all said it. Possibly with a straight face. Possibly holding a mug that’s been reheated more times than your opening chapter.

It’s a lie. We know it’s a lie. But it’s a useful one.

Because here’s the truth: most of writing isn’t just writing. It’s starting to write. And that, my friend, is where the brain throws its most spectacular tantrums. Suddenly the floor needs sweeping. The dog needs a LinkedIn profile. You remember you’ve never fully understood the Mongol Empire and should probably look that up, right now.

But if you tell yourself, “Just five minutes,” the brain relaxes a little. Five minutes is harmless. Five minutes is doable. Five minutes is not the pressure of finishing Chapter Six or resolving an emotional arc or naming that minor character you’ve been dodging since page 12.

And then—surprise! You’re writing.

“I’ll fix it in the next draft.”

Ah yes, the all-purpose bandage we slap on narrative wounds. Did you just write a line of dialogue so wooden it could be firewood? That’s fine! You’ll fix it later.

This lie is a gift. It lets you keep going instead of obsessing over perfection. Will you fix it? Maybe. Will you forget it entirely and stumble on it six drafts from now and feel your soul leave your body? Also maybe. But hey, forward progress.

“This scene will be easy.”

Famous last words. You thought it was just a quick transition scene between plot beats, and suddenly your characters are having an existential crisis about whether they even want to storm the castle.

Still, this lie gets you into the chair. And sometimes it is easy…until it’s not. But that one moment where it flows like butter? Worth every trapdoor of self-delusion.

“I’ll stop once I hit 500 words.”

Sure you will. Right after you write just one more paragraph. And then maybe that cliffhanger line you were saving. And then maybe just rough out the next scene.

This one’s sneaky, because it often leads to unexpectedly productive sessions. It’s the literary equivalent of saying you’ll only watch one episode of a show and suddenly it’s 2am and you’ve learned Klingon.

Why These Lies Work:

Because they grease the gears. They give you permission to write badly, to keep going, to pretend you’re not overwhelmed. They let you sneak past resistance by dressing up in fake mustaches and saying, “Nothing to see here, just a harmless little writing session.”

And once you’re in, the magic happens.

Even if it started with a lie.

But these lies work because they get us moving.

Writing is momentum. You don’t have to feel ready. You just have to begin. Once you’re in, the words show up. Not always cleanly. Not always kindly. But they do.

The Counterproductive Writer Lies

(And Why to Kick Them Out of the Room)

“If it’s not perfect, it’s not worth writing.”

This one is poison dressed as ambition. Perfection is a trap. You can’t revise a blank page, but your inner critic will convince you that you should wait until the idea is fully formed. Meanwhile, your draft gathers dust.
Better lie: “I’ll write it badly now and clean it up later.”

“Real writers don’t struggle like this.”

Every writer struggles. Even the bestselling ones. Especially the ones who’ve been at it a long time. The process doesn’t get easier, it just changes.
Better truth: Struggle means you’re doing the work. You’re in it. That’s what makes you a writer.

“I should be writing faster.”

Productivity envy is real, especially if you’re watching other writers post word counts on social media. But speed ≠ skill, and faster doesn’t always mean better.
Better thought: I write at the pace that serves this story best. (Even if that pace includes long stares into the void and half a sleeve of cookies. Okay maybe the whole sleeve.)

“If I was any good, I wouldn’t need to revise this much.”

Spoiler: needing to revise is a sign that you know how to revise. If you see what’s wrong, that means your skills are growing.
Better reminder: Every revision is a sign I’m learning to tell the truth more clearly.

“This idea has probably already been done.”

Yes. And it’s waiting to be done by you. The unique combination of your voice, perspective, humor, and experience is the special sauce.
Better mantra: It hasn’t been told my way.

The Lies in Disguise

(They seem harmless, until they’re not)

“This time, I’ll keep my timeline organized.”
It starts with good intentions and a spreadsheet with six tabs. But halfway through the draft, your main character has eaten lunch three times on Tuesday, and no one remembers how old the dog is anymore.
Why it hurts: Overplanning the timeline can feel like progress, but often becomes an excuse to avoid the actual writing.
Better trick: Write the draft, mark timeline issues as you go, and fix it after the story exists.

“Research won’t be a rabbit hole this time.”

You googled “18th-century lock mechanisms” and two hours later you’re on a forum learning about antique hinge tension and considering a minor in metallurgy.

It’s not a lie. It’s…immersive worldbuilding.

Why it hurts: Research is vital, but it’s seductive. It feels like work but often hijacks momentum.
Better trick: Leave a [RESEARCH THIS LATER] note in the margin and keep writing. Google can wait. Your story can’t.

“I can’t write today. I’m not feeling inspired.”

This one feels so cozy and justified. But inspiration is flighty. The muse is lazy. The truth is, writing often comes because you start, not before.
Better plan: I’ll show up, and if inspiration wants to join me, she knows where to find me.

“I’ll remember that brilliant idea in the morning.”

No. You won’t.

Write. It. Down.
On your hand. In magic marker. In your Notes app. In smoke signals.
Whatever it takes. Capture the chaos.

The Real Trick

Sometimes the secret to writing isn’t motivation, it’s misdirection.
It’s fooling yourself into starting. And then staying.

Because five minutes is rarely just five minutes.
It’s the door cracking open.

And you, my friend, know exactly how to walk through it.

What Nobody Tells You About Revising

#writingcommunity #booksky #amwriting #writing Unfetterred Treacle

They tell you writing a novel is hard.

(News flash, it is!)

They don’t tell you revising it is like cleaning out a garage…only the garage is on fire, all the labels have fallen off the boxes, and also some raccoons have moved in and started a punk band.

Revision isn’t just “fixing typos.“
It’s often burning whole sections down, rewriting characters, and realizing your “perfect” first chapter belongs in the trash fire.
And then sometimes fishing it back out, washing it off, and duct-taping it into chapter eight.

You discover what the story was actually about.
You thought you were launching a ship full of badass space pirates.
Somewhere along the way, you ended up with a lifeboat full of orphans.
Surprise!

At some point, you will get absolutely sick of your own story.
You’ll hate your characters.
You’ll hate your prose.
You’ll question every decision that led you to this moment.
You’ll wonder if you’ve ever actually written a coherent sentence in your entire life.

This is normal.
(And no, you can’t set your laptop on fire. It’s expensive.)

You have to hurt your darlings.
Not just kill them, hurt them.
Cut scenes you loved.
Delete jokes you thought were hilarious.
Murder entire subplots you spent months building.
It’s brutal, but your story gets sharper, leaner, better.

Revision is about re-seeing the story, not just polishing it.
You’ll find yourself asking questions like:

Is this scene actually doing anything useful?Should I swap the genders?Should I switch from first person POV to third and add another POV character?Is this really the best way to tell this story?Can I make it punch harder?

…Or should I just delete the whole mess and claim it was an experimental haiku all along?

And the wild part? The magic happens here.
Drafting is exciting (sometimes).
But revision?
Revision is where the real book shows up.

This is the forge.
It’s sweaty, messy, loud, and it’s absolutely essential.

Nobody tells you that revision is harder than the first draft.
They also don’t tell you that your first draft was basically your brain’s drunk karaoke version of the real song.
Revision is where you finally figure out what tune you were trying to sing all along — and sometimes even surprise yourself.

First drafts are daydreams.
Revision is craft.
(Okay, sometimes the first draft needs some craft too — but that’s a rant for another day.)

Revision isn’t a test. It’s the road.

Turns out, the real plot twist was you getting better every time you picked up the pen.
(Or the keyboard. Or the crayon. No judgment here.)