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How to Stop Gaslighting Your Memoir Writing Process

Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

Today’s post is by writer and editor Lisa Cooper Ellison. Join her on Wednesday, June 19, for the online class The Psychology of Character Development for Memoirists.

Here are two of the most hated pieces of feedback I’ve given to writers of tough stories:  

Your story needs more levity.Your antagonist needs to be more balanced.

In response, I’ve watched writers who’ve endured extensive abuse grit their teeth and force themselves to write about the one time Mom took them for ice cream or said a kind thing in hopes of pleasing me. “There,” they often say. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

The effort feels fake to them, and, honestly, it reads that way too. As we review their work, I see the deep pain in their eyes, because what they’ve written pushes against what they’re trying to do: own their version of the truth.

Revisions like this trigger all the old messages they’ve internalized.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad.
You’re overdramatizing.
I didn’t mean it.
If it was that bad, you probably caused it.

Watching them, I can see they’re about to gaslight themselves.

Gaslighting is a term people casually throw around or use incorrectly to avoid confrontations. The term comes from the 1938 play, Gas Light, which was turned into a movie. It’s a form of psychological manipulation where an abuser attempts to sow self-doubt and confusion in their victim’s mind. The message behind gaslighting is that what you see—and most importantly what you feel—isn’t real. It’s one of the many tools narcissists use to meet their needs. If gaslighting happens often, and especially it if happens in childhood, you can begin to do it to yourself.

But you don’t need to be a trauma survivor to gaslight your memoir-writing process. Dr. Ramani Durvasula, narcissism expert and author of It’s Not You: Identifying and Healing from Narcissistic People, says, “Narcissism is, indeed, the new world order.” While some people grow up in homes where dangerous forms of narcissism lead to severe abuse, most of us will encounter lesser forms at work or school and in friendships or romantic partnerships.

There are three times when self-gaslighting can derail your writing process.

If you grew up in a home where “what happens here stays here,” then writing your first few drafts, or showing your story to others, might feel like you’re breaking a cardinal family rule. When this happens, you might try to downplay or delete things family members might disapprove of. During research, memory lapses or inaccuracies you’ve uncovered can lead you to wonder if you’re making it all up. Feedback on sensitive material that suggests the work needs to be lighter or more palatable can cause an internal tug-of-war around whom to please—your reviewers or yourself.Recognize the signs

If you want to stop self-gaslighting, you must first recognize when you’re doing it. Emotional signals include resentment toward instructors, critique group members, or editors for “forcing” you to make situations or characters more appealing; it can also include episodes of panicky doubts and a desire to discount your experiences to please reviewers. You might notice tension in your neck, shoulders, or jaw as you write something that meets their expectations but doesn’t personally ring true. Then there are the memory games we play, hoping to locate that single moment of good in a rotten relationship.

Once you’ve identified the problem, it’s time to address it.

Find your power

Never forget that you are the great architect of your story. Does this mean you’ll never have to revise your memoir in ways that feel challenging or that you resist? Not a chance. But you can recast certain scenes and remain true to your experience. Just keep in mind that how you see things will evolve. That’s why it’s so important to give yourself time to process what happened and dig deeply into your memoir’s deepest truths.

Levity can mean many things

Once you’re powered up, examine your options. In fiction, we’re told to be hard on our characters. Give them hell, a writing instructor once told me. In memoir, this advice can result in manuscripts where seemingly unrelated traumas are strung together. But a memoir isn’t pain porn. It’s a story crafted from an interlocking series of events that ratchet up in intensity as the narrator transforms. But if everything in your book goes to eleven, your brain won’t be able to identify what’s important. Like a song consisting of both notes and rests, this journey must include moments of relief where readers can catch their breath. Yet those moments shouldn’t be manufactured.

One way to create levity is by compressing certain moments, culling unnecessary scenes, or cutting repetition. For example, if your memoir includes five instances where your antagonist lies, pick the best one. If more than one is essential, your second, and final versions must up the ante.

If you must add new things, know that levity can come from lots of places.

In Laura Cathcart Robbins’s memoir Stash, the misery of withdrawal and her self-loathing are at first relieved by getting high or sweet moments with her sons. Once she enters rehab, it’s her interactions with her love interest. Laura Davis brings both relief and context to her narrative by inserting letters into The Burning Light of Two Stars. Jennifer Lunden added copious research to her hybrid memoir American Breakdown to both lay claim to her truth and break up the relentless misery of living with a chronic illness. Ingrid Clayton shared some of her mother’s painful history as context for why she chose her narcissistic stepfather over her daughter in her memoir, Believing Me.Trust that creating interesting characters won’t sway your readers

If someone has repeatedly hurt you, trying to make them more redeemable by providing context might hit your gaslight button. But it doesn’t have to.

In a training I attended, renowned addictions specialist Gabor Maté said hurt people hurt people. This is especially true in families. That means hurt is often the fuel for most bad behavior. Abused people often fear readers will see an antagonist’s vulnerabilities and side with them. That might be exactly what happened in real life. But adding context for a character’s actions only makes them more interesting, not better.

In The Liars’ Club, Mary Karr briefly mentions that her mother lost custody of her first two children. Halfway through The Glass Castle, we discover that Rex Walls was likely abused by his mother. Knowing these things prevents these characters from being one sided, but it doesn’t excuse the time Mary’s mother told her to run her broken arm under a bar’s hand dryer, or the scene where Rex sends Jeannette off with a guy he’s hustled at a bar.

Build real insights

When writing memoir, the most important—and interesting—thing you can do is make meaning from your experiences. While every memoir should end on a relatively high note of transformation, adding in aha moments along the way can bring lightness to your work that serve as the precious rest notes readers crave. But they’re not just for the reader. While searching for those ahas, you’re connecting with the hero in a younger version of yourself—a connection that empowers you, the writer, and your story. Of all the strategies that can gaslight-proof your writing process, that’s the most important one.

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, join us on Wednesday, June 19, for the online class The Psychology of Character Development for Memoirists.

Is Your Story “Big Enough” to Write About?

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Today’s post is excerpted from Heart. Soul. Pen.: Find Your Voice on the Page and in Your Life by Robin Finn (Morehouse Publishing).

Limiting beliefs (also called misbeliefs) are judgments or misinterpretations of reality that hold us back or limit what we can do, be, or achieve. One of the most powerful breakthroughs I had while studying spiritual psychology was that I could change my belief system. I learned that I could consciously identify, revise, and release any beliefs I had that did not serve me, made me miserable, or held me back. I did not have to hold onto beliefs from second grade, or from PTA meetings, or that other people placed on me.

When I changed my beliefs, my life experience changed. That is how powerful and predictive inner beliefs are: they dictate your inner thoughts as well as your outer experience.

While creating a new belief system gave me a sense of relief right away, I did not immediately embrace these new beliefs. It took time. I had to practice daily. I would catch myself falling into my old limiting beliefs and I would need to read, review, and accept my new beliefs over and over again. The more I repeated the new beliefs, the more comfortable I became with them. Eventually, they simply became my new belief system.

After I completed my spiritual psychology program, I wanted to take a writing class. Writing had been calling me for years, but I resisted. Every time I thought about it, I always came up with reasons why the timing was not right. After I earned my master’s degree, I decided now was the time.

But I could feel the limiting beliefs inside of me. I knew they were there. I knew that I held judgments against myself. I knew that I did not believe I was a real writer. I knew that I thought everyone else was cooler and smarter and way more interesting than me, a middle‐aged mother of three. I knew it and I could feel it and I knew I had to face it.

So I examined my beliefs about writing and worthiness by writing down each belief. Mine looked like this:

Only young, hip people have something to say.I am too old to write.It is too late.My writing is embarrassing.The topics I am writing about are boring.No one will care about what I am writing.I am not a good writer.I should stop trying.If I keep writing, everyone will see I am not good enough.I missed my chance.

I reviewed each belief according to two main questions:

Does this belief support my goal to write, express myself, unleash my radical self‐expression?Does this belief make me feel good—is it uplifting?

If the answer to both questions was “yes,” I kept the belief. If the answer to either question in whole or in part was “no,” I revised or released it.

I created new beliefs that supported my goal to write and express myself. Here were my beliefs when I finished:

I write because I feel called.I am naturally creative.Writing is an adventure.I am curious about what words will emerge.I give myself permission to write what is true for me.I am worthy of hearing and expressing myself.I am safe.I am allowed to be seen.It is enough to show up and write.I am enough.Now is the perfect time.I have compassion for myself.

Getting rid of my limiting beliefs about writing, about myself as a writer, and about my own worthiness gave me the sense of relief I experienced when I used the same approach with parenting. But, like before, it also took time to fully embrace these new beliefs. Seven years later, I was a widely published essayist.

Limiting beliefs limit our capabilities.

If we want to find our voice, write with abandon, or allow our thoughts and ideas to flow onto the page, we have to stop and look at the beliefs we hold about writing before we start writing. If we do not take the time to identify, revise, and release limiting beliefs, writing often goes like this:

You feel the creative spark or a strong call to write. Some story or seed or idea wants to come out and be expressed. You are excited to write.You buy a new journal, enroll in a writing class, or commit to set aside time to work on a bubbling story, poem, or essay, or simply let out your thoughts on the page. You feel inspired. You begin to write.You read what you wrote and judge it. You decide it is not good. Or you like it and share it with a friend, teacher, or writing group and the feedback you get confuses you or undermines your belief in the idea. You had the best of intentions but now you struggle and freeze.You stop writing.You give up.Amazon • Bookshop

When I talk with students who have encountered this phenomenon, they tell me that, deep down, they did not feel their story was enough—not big enough or important enough or worthy enough—to justify spending time writing about it. They tell me they felt they did not have the authority, wisdom, talent, or commitment to write it. They tell me that giving up made them miserable because they deeply wanted to write, but they could not muster the energy or focus or inspiration to keep going. I tell them that writing while holding limiting beliefs about writing is hard. But that does not mean you should give up your writing. It means you should give up your limiting beliefs.

In addition, society sends gendered messages to women about the value of their stories. These messages suggest women’s stories are not important, women’s issues are taboo/inappropriate/should remain hidden, women’s experiences are not interesting, particularly those of older women. These messages look like:

Whoops, woman over thirty, you’re past your prime.Midlife women, you are too old to start writing or to keep writing or to write anything anyone wants to read.You are a mother? People are not interested in your child‐rearing stories or how hard it is to parent or how tired you are of making the same meal every day for three years for picky eaters or that you won’t eat cake at your birthday party because you’re afraid of gaining weight or how crazy your own mother made you feel.No one wants to hear about period pain or pregnancy or menopause. Please keep your bodily functions and your hot flashes, night sweats, and meno‐fog to yourself.Abortion, sexual assault, and workplace discrimination are hot button issues: you better proceed carefully.Your story is boring and/or we have heard it before, so we don’t need to hear it again.

Here is what I know about limiting beliefs. We all have them. There are different versions and often originate in childhood or when we are young, but essentially, all say the same thing: you are not good enough so stop writing. They keep us small and quiet. They force us to give up. They plague women by playing on our fears that we are “not enough.” They shut us down. They are designed to protect us and keep us safe from harm. They are not true.

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, be sure to check out Heart. Soul. Pen.: Find Your Voice on the Page and in Your Life by Robin Finn.

Defining Negative Space in Story

Photo by Randy Laybourne on Unsplash

Today’s post is by author and book coach Deborah Ann Lucas.

I’m a writer who struggles to process information audibly and an artist who is not visual: I can’t absorb and remember the shapes I see. Instead, I’m an intuitive learner and writer, perceiving and processing the world through a different channel than most—kinesthetically. I learn best through touch and my sense of space. This could be considered a disadvantage. But I’ve turned it into an advantage by applying spatial concepts to see the shape of things in my writing.

In college, I gained creative confidence by making clay sculptures and learned about negative space in a drawing class. In the center of a circle of sixteen artists, a long-haired woman on a raised platform held a contorted pose. Nothing but a flush of circulation kept her nude body warm in the crisp, cool air. I hoisted my 30 x 40″ drawing pad onto an easel and began sketching her head, tracing the curve of her neck, around the arm, along the torso, and down her legs. At the edge of the paper, I had no room for her feet, and reached for my eraser to begin again, much like I do when writing.

My instructor materialized behind me. “Work with what you have.” He snatched the 2B pencil from my hand. “Anchor her in the setting to delineate her proportions.” He slid his thumb along the pencil, measuring with his arm straight. “See the shape in between to define the negative space. Measure the relationship between object and emptiness.”

I squinted, shifting from the model to his translation on my paper. He outlined the drapery to the curve of her shoulder, then her midsection to her flexed arm, creating shapes. Between these, I saw a central image emerge, one nestled in the setting—revealing the trees and the forest.

Connecting art lessons to writing

Years later, when drafting my memoir, I recognized the parallels between writing and the visual arts. Through metaphor, I saw the connections. The naked model represents my vulnerability as I revealed my deepest fears and regrettable choices, a stark picture when rendered without context. The protagonist floated, unanchored in the frame of the story, when left disconnected from or haphazardly linked to the details of the setting, pulling the reader out of the scene before they could grasp what I hoped to communicate.

Using spaces between elements—formed by shared edges—will add continuity, complexity, flow, tension, and mood to the scene.

Using negative space—literally

If negative space is a new concept to you, or is vague and hard to lock down, here are a few ways you might incorporate this effective tool into your writing.

The most basic key on your keyboard is the return key. I use it whenever there is a shift in who is talking in dialogue and create white space on the page. This may seem basic, but it is sometimes missed, so worth mentioning.

I hit the return key when I change anything: in dialogue to a different person; a shift to internal thought; a passage of narration or description. I will hit the return key twice when I switch to a new setting, or when I change the focus of the content, making another point. Adding this open space serves as a road sign, telling your reader something is about to change. It also gives them mental time to process the meaning within the story.

Varying sentence and paragraph length

To manage pacing, I vary the length of sentences and paragraphs, inserting blank lines or white space inside a chapter to create intentional negative space. This helps to avoid overwhelming or, in contrast, boring the reader with my writing.

The placement and the shape of text blocks can add white space to any page. See the space between the edges of the page and the block of text. Notice how different reading a page feels when it’s crammed with words versus when it contains only a sentence or a brief paragraph. All the possibilities in between alter the flow and the reader’s response. When reading, do you take the author’s cue to pause and process when there is extra space between paragraphs? And at the end of a chapter? Are you aware when editing how effective these breaks are when used with intention?

In All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr uses short chapters, from two paragraphs to a handful of pages, a classic example of using negative space to make a complex 531-page story more accessible. He controls our emotions through the ups and downs of this dramatic book.

Making space

Excessive writing, like a busy painting, can produce content that is too much noise to sort through, making the central character hard to decipher. When we find this in our manuscripts, we can create negative space by breaking up our dialogue with internal thought, description, or a blank line, giving the reader a moment of quiet to let the power of the dialogue claim its full impact. An extra blank line between blocks of narration and dialogue facilitates rhythm and flow. Like in music, rests act as a breath, offering relief and adding suspense.

Added details slow the action and create connective tissue between primary elements, giving the reader time to sort out who is who, where they are, and the meaning beneath the surface.

Jon Gingerich in Writing in the Negative suggests how the writer might use empty space to contrast a quiet setting with the turmoil experienced by the main character. For example, in Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf uses a stream-of-consciousness narrative style, leaving spaces for readers to piece together the inner thoughts and emotions of her characters. The negative space in the narrative allows the reader to explore the complexity of the characters’ inner lives.

In “Hills Like White Elephants,” Ernest Hemingway draws us into the experience of a couple on their way to abort as they talk about anything else, creating a discord between their inner turmoil and the banality of what they are saying. The missing core of the story echoes with more power through what is left unsaid, using this negative space as a subtle reflection of their shared loss.

Leaving gaps in time

By leaving gaps for ideas and concepts inferred but unsaid, you’ll invite the reader to fill these spaces with events and meaning from their own life experience. This leap over the chasm draws the reader into the story, reducing the space they must traverse, mentally and emotionally, to walk the path alongside or in the shoes of the protagonist.

In The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls leaves gaps with hints of darker events that impacted her childhood, allowing readers to envision between the lines the full extent of the obstacles she faced. By using negative space, readers are engaged on a deeper level, yielding empathy and understanding. Unresolved tensions and unspoken truths help create a powerful and resonant memoir whose story lingers in the minds of readers.

New paragraphs and chapters are like a cut and fade to the next scene in movies. Where you cut and where you pick up the story tells the reader how far they must jump in time or space. A transitional sentence will make a connection smooth for your reader. Offering no transition into the next action makes it jarring.

It is for you to manipulate, depending on what you want the reader to know and how they experience your story. There are as many answers to this as there are writers.

In Memorial Drive: A Daughter’s Memoir, Natasha Trethewey uses jumps in time, from her mother’s murder at the hand of a former stepfather to later as she unravels what happened, to show us how it shaped her as an artist. She uses metaphor and dreams to inform her memory. The work is powerfully poetic and tragic; her compelling writing helped me traverse the time shifts without losing me.

When I reached the end, I wanted to understand how she had written a tragic personal story with such finesse and went back to analyze the journey I had taken with her. She uses short and long chapters with intermittent sections of dreams and remembrances. After long, dense paragraphs, she gives us a three-line open space, a pause before proceeding to the next scene, using this element of negative space often in each chapter as a break from the intensity, a place to ponder before.

Controlling what is in focus

By controlling what is in focus, you control the space as perceived by your readers. Like artists using a camera, writers can zoom in on their characters and zoom out to the immediate context or the setting, to compress or expand readers’ focus—startling them or giving them the space to take in details. 

Aspects of these techniques can be applied to writing by adjusting the point of view. For example, writing in first person shortens the distance between character and reader, giving the scene intimacy and immediacy. The high energy of this closeness needs intermittent respites from the intensity. Switching to the narrator’s view of the setting opens up the reader’s viewpoint; a broader focus eases the tension. Deepening the depth of field uses negative space to give the reader time to absorb its details or see the scene from a new perspective.

In Schindler’s List, Steven Spielberg adds considerable visual texture to the shots by placing many objects between the two main subjects, shifting the viewer’s focus onto the space between. This deepens the story by focusing on connections between objects that hint or symbolize the undercurrents of the story he is building.

In writing, by highlighting the space around instead of on the primary character, you shift the perspective of a scene and the viewers’ perception of it. By focusing on objects, you can add context and metaphor, change the pacing, and enhance the mood to tell a unique story.

Weaving

Symbolic objects woven throughout your scenes or chapters can be a powerful dimension of story. To consciously manipulate them, ask where and why each thread is popping up: Are they held or touched by the protagonist or other character? Or do you place them in the connective tissue between dynamic action—inside the negative spaces?

Using tools to help you

If you step back from your pages, you’ll see the shape of your narrative structure with fresh eyes, like when my art instructor measured with his thumb on the pencil. To accomplish this new perspective, you might try various tools in Word or ProWritingAid to see how you have laid out your building blocks of story.

Your awareness of negative space will give you a new window for understanding your writing and your reader’s response. When you manipulate spaces in between with intention, your readers will stay intrigued with its emotion, mystery, and ambiguity, reading every word to the end. And they will beg for more.

The Double-Edged Sword of List Building Promotions

Today’s post is by author Brenda E Smith.

I realized a lifelong dream when I self-published my first book in August 2023. I followed all the marketing advice I received about entering the publishing world, including creating a website and selecting an email service provider. On the last page of my book, I added a reader magnet meant to collect email addresses of enthusiastic readers who would enjoy receiving my newsletters. Like many new authors, my original email list numbered about 100, primarily family, friends and work colleagues. I had a long way to go to reach the limit of 1,000 addresses allowed by the free version of my email service provider.

Learning about list-building promotions 

During the first few months after launching my book, I collected 100 more email addresses, but at that rate, growing a substantial list would require marketing outreach help. But who could help me? In November, it thrilled me to discover a well-known book promoter’s list building giveaways. Their two-week long promotions include genre specific bundles of 6 or 7 ebooks. To sweeten the deal, one entrant also wins a free Kindle tablet, its image prominently featured in the advertisement for each promotion.

Authors pay $50 to have their book included in a bundled promotion. In return, the promoter guarantees the author a list of at least 250 new email addresses, though sample results of recent promotions on their website boast of generating 1,000 or more addresses. It sounded great, and not too expensive, so I signed up for an action/adventure-themed promotion.

How do they collect list names?

The promoter advertises giveaways through Facebook ads, their own reader email lists, and authors who share giveaway links on social media. On the contest entry page, the promoter requires all entrants to check a box indicating they agree to receive emails from the authors whose books are part of the promotion. This proactive opt-in is required by anti-spam policies of all email service providers. When the promotion period ends, the promoter randomly chooses three entrants to win the bundle of ebooks. One of them also wins the free Kindle.

Results of my first promotion

Initially, I felt overjoyed to receive the email addresses of 250 readers who entered the giveaway. In two weeks, I had doubled the number of names on my list. When I imported the giveaway addresses, I created a unique group for them within my subscriber database. I promptly sent a welcome email giving them the option to get my book for free during an Amazon promotion the following week. They also received five newsletters over the following three months.

It’s so easy, let’s do it again

When I signed up for a second, inspiration-themed list building giveaway in January 2024, the promoter sent 732 addresses to my quickly growing list. But adding these new addresses exceeded the number of addresses permitted by my free email account. To accommodate the new names, I reviewed and deleted addresses from the first action-adventure group that never opened any of the five subsequent emails I’d sent. It astounded me that nearly 75% hadn’t even opened the email offering the free ebook!

Violation of anti-spam notification

After culling out non-responsive emails from both the action-adventure promotion along with a few from other groups in my subscriber database, 870 names remained, including all the new addresses from the second list-building promotion. After sending a welcome email to the second group and two other newsy emails to the entire list, my email service provider notified me they had suspended my account because I had violated their anti-spam policy. This perplexed me because I’d added no one to my list that hadn’t proactively opted in.

Researching the suspension

Immediately, I replied to the investigator assigned to review my case, asking for an explanation. He told me I’d exceeded their limit for unsubscribes for the last email I’d sent and referred me to their terms and conditions. After digging deep into the minutia of the email service company’s anti-spam policy, I found a paragraph on account suspensions. It read, “We reserve the right to suspend your account immediately and start investigating your activity if your campaigns have a high percentage of spam complaints (more than 0.2%), bounces (more than 5%), unsubscribes (more than 1%) or very small open rate (less than 3%). If it turns out that you were sending emails without permission—we will terminate your account.”

I knew I had done nothing wrong while building my list. How could I control what people did once they were on my list? This punishment felt draconian.

How my unsubscribe rate got my account suspended

I opened and studied the analysis of my last campaign to 870 addresses. Twenty-five addresses had unsubscribed, 3% for that email. Because I had imported the email addresses from the list-building promotions as separate groups of subscribers, I could tell that all 25 unsubscribes came from those two promotions (along with four spam reports). But even worse, once again, 75% of the addresses from the second list-building promotion had opened none of the three subsequent emails I’d sent.

Confronting the book promoter

Straight away, I contacted the promoter to question them about the high proportion of names who never opened any of my mails, and to notify them that the high number of unsubscribed addresses had resulted in suspension of my email account. I asked how they obtained these email addresses if 75 percent wouldn’t open a welcoming email about “December Deals,” including an offer to get my ebook for free that they didn’t win.

My analysis: many of the people entering the contest aren’t interested in the books. They only wanted a chance to win the free Kindle tablet. I got an apology and a promise to look into my complaint.

Convincing my email service provider to reinstate my account

Meanwhile, I had to prove to my email service provider that none of the unsubscribed addresses had been added to my email list without their permission. I sent them a link to the promoter’s giveaway entry page so they could verify a block had to be checked off by anyone entering the contest, agreeing to receive emails from the authors. They then agreed I had not violated their anti-spam policy, although I had exceeded their unsubscribe limit. Grudgingly, they reinstated my email account with the stern warning that if it happened again, they would permanently shut down my account.

Protecting my email list

I went through and deleted all the accounts from both list-building promotions for fear that if just five more of the list-building addresses decided to unsubscribed in the future, my account would be shut down. The promoter’s director of global operations emailed me to thank me for my candid feedback and promised to continue to monitor the performance and impact of their promotions closely. I asked the promoter for a refund for the two list-building promotions, since I couldn’t trust that the addresses they provided had any value. They have not replied.

Lessons learned

I learned about list-building promotions the hard way and want other authors to avoid this potential pitfall. Many book promoters run these types of contests. When the prime attraction in their advertising is the shiny new ebook reader, they inevitably will attract entrants who are only after the grand prize. Despite checking the box to receive author emails, they may quickly turnaround and unsubscribe from author emails they receive (or worse, report them as spam).

Also, all email service providers set qualitative standards to prevent people from building email lists that deliver spam and clutter subscribers’ email boxes. I’ve discovered that other providers’ standards are less restrictive than my provider’s limits. It’s important that every author is aware of what their provider’s tolerance level is for unsubscribes, bounces, and spam reports.

List-building giveaways specifically hurt authors whose base email lists are small, because doubling or tripling their size from promotions, where the addresses are not people genuinely interested in their books, puts those authors at a higher risk of violating email service policies when those people unsubscribe. For authors with larger established email lists, unsubscribes from list-building promotions may not exceed the email service provider’s qualitative caps. Still, what author, regardless of whether their list is large or small, wants to pay for non-responsive addresses from promoters?

If book promoters are serious about helping authors, they must realize that featuring valuable non-book prizes might provide an incentive for the wrong type of people to enter their giveaways. Also, they must be diligent about monitoring the quality of the addresses they are adding to their lists, weeding out addresses that repeatedly enter giveaway promotions for every genre, so authors receive only addresses of bonafide readers interested in their book.

How to Write Compelling Inner Conflict

Photo by Alex Vámos on Unsplash

Today’s post is by Angela Ackerman, co-author of the new second edition of The Emotion Amplifier Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Stress and Volatility.

Readers connect with characters who are true-to-life, so as we build our story’s cast, we want to ensure they think and behave as real people do. This is especially important when it comes to inner conflict as readers are exposed to a character’s personal struggles and insecurities. These moments are powerful points of connection, so how can we show a character’s inner turmoil in a way that reminds readers of their own experiences? 

Psychology!

I know, you probably aren’t a therapist and that one class in college, well, it was years ago. Don’t worry, you won’t have to dive into textbooks to unravel the whys of behavior to put it on the page. Instead, you can pull from your own experiences with cognitive dissonance.

You may know cognitive dissonance as something else–the tension that arises when you feel torn between two different beliefs. The discomfort of examining your priorities when new information calls them into question. Doing or saying something that deep down you suspect—or know—is wrong.

Cognitive dissonance, the psychological discomfort caused by contradicting thoughts, perceptions, values, or beliefs is something we will experience many times over the course of our lives. This inner tension can arise from something small, like whether to tell a white lie to spare someone’s feelings, or something larger, like having to choose between family loyalty or the common good after discovering a sibling is behind a string of robberies.

Being in a situation where things don’t sit right or we’re not sure what to do is not a fun experience, so when we show our character’s dissonance, readers can’t help but relate and empathize.

In the story, our characters may try to ignore or suppress the distress they feel, but eventually it grows to the point where they must resolve it. But internal conflict is called conflict for a reason: the character is pulled in different directions and doesn’t know what to do. And when the right or best decision means a harder road, the choice becomes even more difficult to make.

Moments like this will activate the reader’s emotions because they know what it’s like to make hard decisions. Obviously, there’s pressure on the writer to show all of this well, and once again, psychology can lend a hand.

Using emotional reasoning to solve painful problems

Inner conflict is hard to resolve as things are never black and white. In the real world, we apply emotional reasoning whenever we struggle, so we can show our characters doing this, too.

Emotional reasoning is where the character weighs and measures each factor related to their situation—their beliefs, facts about their circumstances, personal experiences, past teachings, the people involved, any possible consequences … the whole nine yards.

I’ll show you an example. Let’s say our protagonist Silva just discovered her best friend Claire is cheating on her husband, Rick. Claire begs Silva to keep this information secret, and normally, she wouldn’t share something told in confidence. But this? Staying silent doesn’t sit right. Silva has strong beliefs about fidelity and views an affair as the worst type of betrayal.

She hates the whole situation and wishes she could go back in time to when she was blissfully ignorant. Instead, she now has an agonizing decision to make—say nothing out of loyalty to Claire or stay true to her moral code and tell Rick.

Silva knows if she tells Rick, she’s nuking her friendship with Claire. But if she says nothing, she’ll struggle to be around her friend, not to mention look herself in the mirror, because keeping the secret makes her feel complicit.

To figure out what to do, she applies emotional reasoning by weighing and measuring the various factors around this situation.

For example, it might be easier for Silva to keep this information to herself if one factor happens to be that Claire’s husband isn’t a nice guy—say, if he’s verbally abusive or controlling. Silva might resolve her dissonance by telling Claire that his behavior is further proof it’s time to leave the marriage.

But what if Rick is a good guy, maybe even someone Silva considers a friend? In this case, keeping the secret means protecting one person by betraying the other.

Another factor could be whether the two have children. What if revealing the truth triggers a divorce and turns the family inside out? She will be responsible in part for that outcome.

As Silva grapples with what to do, she considers other factors, like how good a friend Claire is. She also tries to think back to a time when she kept the truth from someone, or if she’s ever felt as Claire does (needing love in a way her partner doesn’t provide). Another possible factor Silva would consider is if she’s ever experienced betrayal, especially the sort that would put her in Rick’s shoes.

Whatever factors are true for Silva in this situation, you can see how her deepest beliefs and values are being challenged. She must sort and measure to reason out what to do.

It could be that Silva concludes that:

She’s lost respect for Claire and their friendship might not survive, but despite believing the affair is wrong, she agrees not to tell Rick. Silence comes at the cost of her integrity, but she refuses to be responsible for unraveling their family.Her morals won’t let her keep Rick in the dark, and she’s upset Claire has put her in this situation. She decides Claire should bear the brunt of the emotional discomfort and delivers an ultimatum: Either you tell Rick, or I will.She doesn’t want to keep this secret, but she also doesn’t feel right delivering news that could break a family apart. If she continues to run into Rick, she’ll have to say something, so she removes herself from her friends’ lives.

Difficult decisions usually carry a price tag—in this case, pain for either Silva or her friends. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but there’s no way to avoid it. And one way or the other, she’s being forced to sacrifice friendship, integrity, or both.

Emotional reasoning plants readers in the character’s perspective, helping them understand the why behind a decision. They get a private viewing of the character’s inner struggle and vulnerability, which fortifies the reader-character bond. And because readers have had to weigh and measure themselves, they know it’s a personal process. They may not agree with a character’s end decision, but at least understand the reasoning that brought it about.

Human psychology and its processes allow us to bring authenticity to the page through our character’s realistic emotional responses and behavior, so don’t be afraid to bring it into your storytelling.

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, check out the new second edition of The Emotion Amplifier Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Stress and Volatility by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi.

5 Reasons You Should Consider Writing Your Memoir in Present Tense

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Today’s post is by author Gina DeMillo Wagner, author of Forces of Nature.

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When my memoir Forces of Nature was on submission with publishers, one editor said she loved the story, but couldn’t get past the fact that I had written it in present tense. In her mind, I’d broken a universal rule: Memoir is about the past and therefore should always be past tense. I respectfully disagreed (and sold the book to a different publisher who shared my vision).

From the very beginning, I felt my story demanded to be told in the present. The memoir takes place in the aftermath of my brother’s sudden death and follows my quest for answers and understanding. The prose has an immersive quality as I navigate complicated grief, investigate his cause of death, and eventually find my footing and place in the world.

Still, present tense was a risk and a technical challenge. I couldn’t approach the narrative with hindsight, though I did achieve distance and clarity. I borrowed tools from my journalism training like datelines to orient the reader to time and place. I distinguished between myself as author, as narrator, and as protagonist. Throughout the writing process, I kept in mind several cinematic, propulsive memoirs I’ve read and loved that also used present tense. I knew it could be done.

Here’s the thing: The best memoirs are not simply a chronicle of events. They are vivid, nuanced, meaningful stories. And there are myriad ways to tell a story. Present tense is just one approach. It’s tough to execute and doesn’t suit every writer or every memoir (or every editor!). But here are a few reasons to give it a try:

1. It lends immediacy and intimacy.

Memoirs are personal, but they should also be universal. You want your reader to drop into the story alongside you, and present tense is an invitation. It lends a sense of immediacy. It engages the reader and propels them through your story. They become your co-conspirator or fellow documentarian, emotionally invested in the plot of your life. In effect, you’re telling the audience: This is happening right here, right now, and you’re here with me in the midst of it all. Together, we’ll consider the plot and make meaning of it.

2. It mirrors the experience of grief and trauma.

Anyone who has experienced grief or trauma knows that it never really goes away or becomes a thing of the past. Our nervous systems hold onto the sensations and emotions as if they’re happening in the here and now. Details and memories double back on themselves. They grip us in surprising ways. Since so many memoirs deal in grief and trauma, it makes sense that we would write about it in the present. It’s a technique that gives readers access to the interiority of pain and lays bare emotions on the page.

3. It keeps you rooted in scene.

Maintaining present tense helps you avoid the boundless, blow-by-blow retelling of events: This happened, and then this happened, and then… Not to mention, without the distance of time, it can be easier to show rather than tell. There’s something visceral, almost electric, about sensory details when you read them in present tense. It keeps the author (and reader) grounded in scene.

4. There is plenty of room for reflection.

One of the biggest arguments I see against writing in present tense is that it makes it hard to reflect on your experience or offer the kind of insight and exposition that makes memoir valuable. Yet, our perspective on life isn’t static. It evolves, and it can evolve on the page. The search for patterns and connections can happen in real time.

A reflective voice asks, “So what?” It reaches beneath the surface for deeper meaning. The narrator holds a mirror to herself and her experiences and looks for the truth of it, teases out the threads, finds the subtlety. And that can happen in present, past, or future tense.

How? In present tense, you can signal to your reader when you’re reflecting. You might offer little clues like brushstrokes: “Years from now I’ll realize…” or “In my memory, this is the first time that I…” It’s akin to breaking the fourth wall. Done sparingly, it allows the reader to come to the same realizations alongside you or even develop their own, which lends universality to your story.

5. You’ll learn to trust yourself as an author.

You might try writing a draft in present tense and love it. Or you might hate it. It could crack the story wide open. Or in the end, it may not offer the flexibility you need or the structure to contain the story you want to tell. So be it. Even if you scrap the draft, I’m willing to bet your writing will improve thanks to this exercise. You may discover a sharpness, depth, and nuance that wasn’t there before.

3 Book Marketing Misconceptions and What to Do Instead

Today’s post is by children’s author and digital strategist Angie Isaacs.

Show of hands, writers, how many of you love book marketing? I can’t see through your screen, but I know very few of you have your hands up.

Authors hate what they think marketing is. Like most writers, I was not initially thrilled with marketing. But the more I learned, the more my feelings about marketing shifted. Not only is my marketing more successful now, I also enjoy it! (Yes, really!)

I’ve seen the same thing with other writers—their feelings about marketing shift. Not everyone comes to love it, but they can approach it with less dread and more success.

Book Marketing Misconception 1: Always be closing

“Always be closing” is a marketing truism that does a disservice to authors. Marketing is not just sales. If you hear “marketing” and imagine a pushy used car salesman, it’s no wonder you want to avoid it. And you should!

The truth: Constant selling will chase away your audience

Ever follow someone on social media, sign up for a webinar, or show up to a “party” only to discover that you’ve been tricked into a thinly veiled sales talk?  You probably feel swindled, mad, and uncomfortable.

What you didn’t feel was an urge to buy. You probably unfollowed, unsubscribed, and excused yourself as fast as you could. Your audience feels the same way. So if your entire message is “buy my book,” then you’re losing your audience and not getting sales.

What to do instead: Limit sales-oriented messages.

You will do more sales-related marketing when you have a specific reason to promote (launching a book, promoting an event or class, etc). But most of the time, your marketing content should focus on things your audience will like and want to engage with. Marketers often define this as content that:

Entertains: a funny anecdote or videoEducates: recommendations or resources for your readers will likeInspires: inspirational quotes or messagesIntrigues: behind the scenes of your writing process or interesting factsRelates to your audience: a meme about how much writers dread marketing

Above all: your marketing should make your potential buyers enjoy following you!

Book Marketing Misconception 2: Marketing is a one-way street

A related misconception is that your job is done once you’ve posted to social media, written a blog post, put up an ad, or put on an event.

The truth: You reap what you sow in marketing

You get what you put in. Pushy marketers take without giving back to the community. If all you do is push your own content, it won’t work. People don’t want one-sided relationships.

What to do instead: be a valued community member.

Effective marketing is about relationships, not pushing sales. Build a relationship first, then when it’s time to sell, the community will be happy to listen and might even spread the word for you.

I saw this back in my Girl Scout cookie days. I knocked on a lot of strangers’ doors. Even with yummy cookies and cute gap teeth, few people bought and some people were annoyed at being interrupted for a sales pitch.

One knock on my favorite neighbor’s door and she bought my whole stock, then took the sales form to her book club to sell more. The sales pitch and the product were the same, but the relationship is what led to immediate, easy sales, and a customer who spread the word.

You build relationships with your audience on social media, newsletters, and blogs when you

Post or send regularlyEngage in others’ conversations (like, comment, etc.)Engage with the people who comment on your work (like and reply to comments)

Above all, be a good member of the community whether online or offline. It takes little effort and the rewards are huge in both marketing and belonging to a community that will help you persevere (and stay sane). Things you can do:

Congratulate and cheer on others!Be helpfulCommiserate and empathizeBe kind

Reframing your marketing from “selling things” to “building relationships with people who like the same things as me” (such as your readers and fellow writers) makes a huge difference in how you feel about marketing. And it’s much more effective!

Book Marketing Misconception 3: You have to do everything and be everywhere

Authors are often stretched thin trying to post to every social media channel, alongside blogging, sending a newsletter, producing a podcast, etc. (Plus, you know, actually writing.) That makes it hard to do a good job on any one thing.

The Truth: Consistency matters more than doing it all

Showing up consistently on a manageable number of platforms will get you better results than trying to do everything. There are three pieces driving this advice: 

People have to see your message, on average, seven times to take action.Social media sites are more likely to show your content to followers if you post regularly.You won’t get anywhere if you burn yourself out!

“Manageable” is important. I don’t know a single author who has enough time to do everything. (Myself included.) Which is why I recommend prioritizing the most important things instead of trying to do everything.

What to do instead: Do fewer things, less well, but do it more often.

You will have better marketing results and more peace. Pick the things that maximize your marketing effectiveness and joy. This will free up more time, so you can be more consistent.

In terms of effectiveness, newsletters are still one of the best marketing tools. If you’re not sure what to post in your newsletter, I have a free guide with 60+ ideas for your author newsletter.

Shifting your understanding and approach to book marketing can transform it from a dreaded chore to a rewarding part of our journey. Focus less on sales pitches and more on building genuine relationships, to engage readers in meaningful ways that benefit everyone. Remember, effective book marketing is not about being everywhere all the time, but about consistency, authenticity, and understanding the needs of your community.

Embrace Complication to Develop a Can’t-Put-It-Down Narrative

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Today’s post is by author and book coach Susanne Dunlap.

There are many ways to create forward momentum in a story: layering in unanswered questions that create suspense, for instance. Or building a solid cause/effect trajectory from scene to scene, and having your protagonists move inexorably forward on their character arcs via action>reaction>decision>consequence.

But there’s another craft element that amps up that momentum not by pushing the story along its established arc more quickly, but by frustrating that progress in a way that acts like the sudden shift into reverse of a speeding car.

That craft element is complication.

Complications are plot points on steroids.

They can occur at different moments in the narrative, but when they are introduced, the result is to throw the progress of the story into momentary chaos. A good complication could completely change the direction of the action, or force protagonists to make dire decisions, or throw the most extreme obstacle in the way of your protagonist’s journey towards getting what they want.

An example: A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

In Amor Towles’s masterful novel (now adapted to a wonderful TV series starring Ewan MacGregor), old regime Russian Count Rostov is sentenced to permanent house arrest in the Hotel Metropole, being forced to move out of his luxury suite into a single cramped attic room. From the very start, we’re intrigued.

The situation also creates a constant undercurrent of threat and suspense because Rostov stands so obviously in opposition to the evolving communist society. All along, things happen that create difficulties and nudge the plot forward: meeting the precocious little girl Nina; the affair with elegant actress, Anna; coaching the party official, Osip, on Western manners; encountering his boyhood friend.

But the complication, the thing that upsets everything else, is when the adult Nina brings her daughter Sophia to Rostov and asks him to look after her while she goes to Siberia in search of her imprisoned husband. This occurs as Rostov has settled into an altered—but not unpleasant—life as the head waiter in the swanky hotel restaurant, and carved out for himself a somewhat luxurious hideaway in the attics, furnished with items recovered from the hotel storeroom.

We have been lulled into a sense that perhaps he is heading toward a time when he will be released from his house arrest, because he has become useful to the regime in a way.

And then BANG!

How did this complicating plot point manage to come as a shock—and still feel inevitable? How do we accept that a middle-aged, bachelor Russian count living in restricted quarters will be willing to and capable of looking after an 8-year-old girl? We were prepared for it.

1. Rostov’s friendship with Nina as a little girl. Although she wasn’t his responsibility, his sense of play, his openness and caring for a lonely child, showed that he had the temperament and capacity for love.

2. Nina’s activism and naivete. We can’t help sensing that something is imminent that will destroy her belief in the new system, subject her to arbitrary justice. It’s also clear that Rostov’s affection for her never wavers, but in his worldly wise way, he worries for her future.

3. Rostov’s connections with and affection for the underlings at the hotel. His uncomplaining acceptance of a position that’s so far beneath what he enjoyed before the revolution, his kindness and consideration of the hotel staff—including those who have married and had children during the time of his tenure there—means that he has a support network in place to help him through this shocking development.

4. The secret enlargement of his living quarters to encompass two rooms. Although one of them remains the shared bedroom, the fact that long before Sophia’s arrival he effectively carved out space in his life is a subtle but significant breadcrumb.

Did Towles think of this point as a complication when he wrote the manuscript? Probably not. But those of us who are struggling with a story and can’t figure out why it falls flat, or grinds to a halt in the middle, can learn by analyzing great novels and deriving lessons to apply to our own writing, whether or not the author was conscious of how his work came about.

Complications and The Hero’s Journey—or Save the Cat

Advocates of these and other storytelling formulas will recognize the principle of complication as possibly corresponding to certain beats. The “all is lost” moment, for instance. But complications aren’t necessarily tied to a specific place in your narrative. They don’t even absolutely have to be entirely negative. They can be introduced strategically to light a firecracker under what’s starting to feel like predictable action at any point in your three-act structure—if that’s what you’re using.

In other words, a complication needn’t be the beat itself, but it can be the way you rise to the occasion of that beat.

Complications can be used effectively in all genres

Thrillers thrive on complication. Tortured family dramas or anything with an element of soap opera are fertile ground as well for added complications. But there’s a caveat: Too many complications, too many big reversals, can buffet a reader around until they become numb to them. Which ultimately defeats the object of the device and turns drama into melodrama.

Another example: Venetia by Georgette Heyer

Even a tame, sweet historical romance can benefit from strategically placed complications. Here’s how Heyer uses one to superb effect in one of her finest Regency romances:

Gently bred but independent-minded Venetia has been managing her brother’s estate, because their parents are dead and he is away fighting in the Napoleonic wars. Waterloo is over, and the brother, Sir Conway, could in theory come home—but doesn’t. Plus, we learn at the outset that he’s aggravatingly uncommunicative about his plans, having never been much of a letter writer.

Circumstances and information lead the reader to expect this event to occur and create some complication in Venetia’s and her younger brother’s lives. But this is a romance, and Venetia finds herself falling in love with the rake next door, a highly unsuitable connection—even though their temperaments, senses of humor, and intellect are perfectly matched. We suspect that when the brother appears, he won’t like it.

A little less than halfway through the book, Venetia arrives home having been in town running errands to see a traveling coach being unloaded at the front door. We as readers think, “Ah! It’s Conway come home! I wonder what will happen?”

But … it’s not Conway. It’s his pregnant wife (who nobody knew existed, because we’ve already been told he avoids writing letters at all costs) and her horrible, domineering mother. This lady starts upsetting everyone in the household and sending Venetia running to the rake in a way that sends danger signals to her conservative neighbors. This complication jolts the action into another direction and sets the rest of the drama on its ears.

Brilliant, honestly. Incidentally, Conway never steps onto the page. But his unwillingness to communicate about a difficult situation (the MIL was basically kicked out of headquarters) makes it entirely believable that he would send his wife and MIL home without warning.

Consider complicating your story.

Even if you have a well-thought-out outline (if that’s what works for you) and your plot is moving along nicely, see if there are places where pushing something a little further or introducing something unexpected could jolt the action forward or sideways, surprise your reader a little, and nudge it all to the next level. And then, go back and make sure it doesn’t come out of nowhere.

Aside from being something that could improve your story, it’s really, really fun to stir things up for your protagonist in that way!

Your Small Press Submission Checklist

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Today’s post is by author, editor, and book coach Julie Artz (@julieartz). Download her Craft Your Query Workbook.

There’s been a lot of discussion recently about the challenges around publishing with the Big Five, some of it overblown and some of it valid. If you’ve been reading this blog for any time at all, you’ve probably seen some really excellent discussion of alternative options, either in Jane’s Key Book Publishing Paths report, or in her deeper dive into how to evaluate small presses, or in a recent post about the case for pursuing a traditional publishing deal without an agent.

If you’ve decided to forego the agent query trenches and seek a press that accepts unagented work, here’s a checklist to help you compile a submission list you can feel confident in as you prepare to pitch without an agent.

Make your list

Many long-time markets have closed to unsolicited submissions since the pandemic due to resourcing issues. That means any pre-2020 lists you have floating around on your hard drive might need a refresh. Here are three great resources for compiling your initial list of publishers who accept unagented work:

Authors Publish: Their free magazine is full of opportunities for unagented writers.The Writer’s Center maintains a list of presses that accept unsolicited submissions.Poets & Writers magazine has a searchable database as well.A paid database that is also helpful: Duotrope

While you want to cast your net broadly with this initial list, you’ll still want to make sure every press you put on your initial list meets the following criteria:

Open to unagented/unsolicited submissionsAccepts your manuscript’s genreAccepts your manuscript’s age category

Note that some presses only open for specific windows (more on this later) or have contests that may have a reading fee associated. A reading fee isn’t a red flag, but it’s definitely something you’ll want to be prepared for as you plan.

Check it twice

Now that you have a broad list of possibilities, it’s time to do some assessment. Jane has provided an in-depth exploration of how to evaluate the distribution channels, marketing, and sales models of small presses here that’s worth a look if you decide to go this route. But before you dig deeper, here are some easy tips for narrowing the list that will save you time on the deep dive. As you go through the checklists below, remove the presses that don’t feel like a good fit at each step in this process. By the end, you’ll have a short list of presses to consider.

1. Review the publisher’s website.

For each press, look up their website and ask yourself:

Does the site look clean and professional?Are the submission guidelines clear?Do the covers of their books look like they could fit on the shelf in your local indie in terms of quality of cover design?Do they have a variety of authors or just one or two who are also involved in the press editorially? *

* Like reading fees, this is not necessarily a red flag, but it is something to know going in. It may be a newer press looking to expand beyond its founders, which could make them hungry for fresh voices. Either way, it’s good to know.

2. Evaluate their existing titles.

Jot down several of the presses’ titles and look them up on your favorite online retailer, paying special attention to:

Number of reader reviews. You’re not necessarily looking for 9000+ reviews, but keep in mind that your title is unlikely to vastly exceed the average reviews you see for their list.Number of trade reviews. Look for the big trade reviewers here (Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, etc), for reviews from authors you recognize, for magazine/newspaper reviews, and also for the smaller reviewers who also work with the university and small press market like Foreword.

Then look up a handful of titles at your local library to see if library distribution is something you can expect if you publish with them.

3. Make note of contests or open calls.

Not all presses are open to submissions 365 days a year. Many presses have short submission windows, special calls for submissions, or contests. Make note of those so you can build that into the submission schedule you’ll create.

Put it in order

Now that you have refined your list of publishers, it’s time to prioritize them into a submission schedule you can follow over the weeks or months ahead as you pitch.

Highlight your top five. These are the ones that are the best fit based on your research and will go into your first round of pitching.Highlight your bottom five. It can be tempting to put every press out there on your list, but if you have a bad feeling about any of these ones in the bottom five, now might be a good time to do one more list pruning. You want to feel good about publishing with any press you pitch.Prioritize the remaining presses. I recommend grouping the remaining presses into batches of five and not sending the next round out until you’ve at least heard something back from some of the presses in the previous round. This is where you’ll want to build in those special calls and open periods so that you don’t forget them.Polish your pitch package

Just because small and midsize presses accept unagented work doesn’t mean getting a publishing deal with them is a walk in the park. Writers are catching on to all that’s great about small and midsize press publishing, and these presses typically publish few titles per year, which means they don’t have many slots to fill. You still want to do all the things you’ve done in the past, like when trying to land an agent. Make sure your manuscript is query-ready and write pitch that will catch an editor’s eye. If you’re not sure your query is up to snuff, check out my free Craft Your Query Workbook for some great tips.

Pitch in batches

You’ve done your research. You’ve narrowed and prioritized your list. You’ve polished your pitch package. Now you’re ready to send out that first batch of queries. I know the waiting can be tough, but now is a great time to read one of those books on your to-be-read pile or even start work on your next story. Hopefully this checklist has reassured you that you’ve done everything you can to give your book the best chance possible.

Avoid, Persevere, Endure, Fight: 4 Goals for Unforgettable Opening Scenes

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Today’s post is by book coach Ayesha Ali.

Your protagonist must have a story goal.

That is a piece of writing advice that rarely gets elaborated upon. Sure, it’s easy to identify a protagonist’s goal in a quest story, romance or mystery, but even in these novels, the action might not begin until chapters 4 or 5. So what does your character do in these early chapters when things haven’t been shaken up yet?

Most story structure guides begin with an exploration of the Normal World. The Normal World serves an important purpose: it introduces you to the protagonist, the values and traditions they grew up with, and their opinions on the world they inhabit. But watching a character go through their daily routine is boring and can become tedious if handled poorly.

Central to strong opening chapters is the struggle that your character faces in their normal life. Some craft teachers call this struggle the inner wound, others call it the lie the character believes, and some simply call it dissatisfaction with the current situation. Your protagonist’s response to this struggle will determine their goals in the opening scenes.

Goal 1: Avoid

Whatever struggle your protagonist faces, they want nothing to do with it. They might not know how to deal with it, or it may take energy that they don’t have, or the problem is just so large and nebulous that there’s no easy answer.

Avoidance is a deceptive concept. At first glance, it seems easy—after all, how hard could it be to do nothing—but in fact it takes an incredible amount of energy. To avoid something, you’re on constant alert for situations that may bring it up. For example, if you’re sensitive about your height, you’re wary of being placed next to someone who is taller or shorter than you, a good portion of your brain is analyzing conversations anticipating height-related comments and coming up with ways to divert to another topic. You may even want to avoid being in picture which, in our day, is almost impossible.

As a storyteller, you can leverage this stress to create very tense opening scenes. Ask yourself:

What is my protagonist trying to avoid?What reminders (people, places, sights, smells, etc.) are vital for them to avoid?

Now brainstorm 5–10 small concrete actions that your character can take in your opening chapter.

Goal 2: Persevere

This is where it’s not enough for your character to just keep plugging along. They may have someone they care for or they feel that maintaining status quo is akin to giving up. Here, it’s important to hone in on your protagonist’s motivation and what failure means to them.

An example is Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games. For her, the stakes are high—if she doesn’t go beyond the fence of District 12 to hunt, her family will starve—but she is also motivated by her sister’s joy. If she doesn’t hunt, if she doesn’t take all of the tesserae, then Prim will have to give up the simple pleasures of childhood to survive. Katniss’s dedication to ease the suffering of others continues throughout the trilogy and is one of the reasons she is so engaging.

There are a few strategies you can use to find your character’s motivation. One way is to use personality tests. Personality tests are an analytical tool used by psychologists and provide an excellent list of personal motivations for you to choose from.

Another strategy is the 5 Whys. This is where you interrogate your character and ask why are you doing that five times over to dig deep into their psyche. A possible list of questions for Katniss may look like this:

Why do you go beyond the fence? So I can feed my family. Why do you need to feed your family? So my mom and my sister wouldn’t starve. Why do you care if they starve? Because I love them. Why do you have to be the one to do it? Because if I don’t, my sister will have to go to the orphanage. Why is it so bad for her to go to the orphanage? Because the joy will be beaten out of her and I don’t want that to happen.

Once you have chosen a motivation for your protagonist, play with your opening scene. Try not to change the events that happen. Focus on how your protagonist thinks and how they problem solve to craft a unique scene.

Goal 3: Endure

Sometimes you encounter situations that you just have to endure. It may be tempting to give your protagonist an unending situation to endure, but that drains the potential tension from the scene. When you expect nothing to change, this becomes a new status quo, and status quo equals boring. Giving a specific date for the character’s situation to end keeps the difficulty alive which in turn creates tension.

In The Lightning Thief, Percy Jackson’s goal in chapter 1 is to get through the field trip and the last few months of school without getting expelled, which is not an easy thing for him. Bullies, a crazy math teacher, and his own ADHD put considerable obstacles in his way. But with the promise of seeing his mom again and his desire not to disappoint her, Percy is determined to keep his goal.

Ask yourself:

What’s the light at the end of the tunnel for your character?How long do they have to endure to reach it? (Don’t make the time line too long or the draw will lose its pull.)What concrete actions does your character need to take to reach that light? (e.g., pass a test, finish a project, keep grinding until Christmas break).

Now, as with avoidance goals, brainstorm a list of 5–10 small, concrete actions that your character can take in your opening scene to keep going.

Goal 4: Fight

This type of opening scene goal is the hardest to accomplish. In the other three goal types, the protagonist works within the constraints of the society they live in; here, they want to change those constraints. For fight goals, the protagonist faces their struggles head on and decides to take the biggest risk they can think of. In other words: Go big or go home.

Like perseverance goals, you need a firm grasp of your protagonist’s motivation. The character will most likely have a personal philosophy they need to uphold, and you can use the 5 Whys to get at the heart of why they believe fighting for their philosophy is so important.

An example is Steve Rogers in Captain America: The First Avenger. The opening scenes of the movie shows Rogers’s determination to enlist in the army during WWII despite his myriad of health issues. When asked why, he responds, “I don’t like bullies,” and an early scene shows how bullying manifests in his personal life.

ExerciseUse the 5 Whys to discover your protagonist’s deep seated motivation.Look into the character’s past. Pick two to three events that strengthen this motivation and free write about each.Finally, take a look at your opening scenes and brainstorm 5–10 ways you can incorporate this motivation into the protagonist’s actions and thoughts.