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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

Photo by Espen Bierud on Unsplash

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

Photo by Oleksandr P

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

Photo by Nate Neelson on Unsplash

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.

A Writer’s Secret Weapon: Add a Listening Pass to Your Editing Arsenal

Today’s post is by author, editor, and book coach Suzy Vadori.

When you’re reading your own words during an editing pass, your brain works against you in two ways:

Your fears can take hold. When this happens, you might be hard on yourself, worrying that everything you’ve written is garbage. This can lead you to over-edit and tinker with your page until you can’t be sure if you’re making your book better, or worse. ORYour dreams can make you starry eyed. You love your idea for the book so much you see it through rose-colored glasses. You skim over your words, nodding along because your world comes alive in your head as you read. This makes it impossible to recognize if you’ve forgotten to share critical information you meant to share — even though it never made it onto your pages.

What if you could get a fresh perspective on your writing more often—for free—even before showing it to others, so you can put your best foot forward?

This is possible if you set up a listening pass—where you listen to your story read aloud by text-to-speech on your computer or mobile device. This technique has made my writing process so much faster and more fun that I teach it to every writer I work with.

If this sounds like torture—please, hear me out. I felt the same way when a writer told me to read my book out loud to myself. Reading out loud is far too slow to engage my brain, so I ignored this advice for years before deciding maybe I could use technology to do it for me. It’s now my go-to strategy to reflect on my own work. It’s so effective at keeping my brain engaged and finding gaps that I use it at every stage of my writing process, from doing a gut check on my messy first drafts to making sure I’ve crossed the t’s and dotted the i’s on my final copy.

Listening to your work has never been easier. You don’t need any fancy apps or software. You can do it for free using features already on your smartphone.

How to do a listening pass

First, email yourself the document or text that you’d like to have read aloud.

Next, change the settings on your phone. If you have an iPhone, you’ll find the option under Settings > Accessibility > Spoken Content. Choose Speak Selection and Speak Screen. On this same screen, activate the Speech Controller (switch to ON).

Then, open the document from your email and download it into any eReader. iBooks is my favorite, because it automatically flips the pages, and keeps going if you navigate away to something else on your screen. You can even turn your screen off, and put your phone in your pocket. Next, activate the text-to-voice command. Voilà, Siri is now reading to you.

Bonus—using this same technology, you can have any ebook read to you!

With an Android phone, you’ll find the options in Settings > Accessibility and select the Text-to-Speech output.

(The instructions may differ slightly depending on your phone and the version of the software you’re using. If you’re having trouble, try Googling instructions for Text-to-Speech for your specific phone.)

The technology isn’t perfect, but it’s getting better every year. In the decade that iPhone’s Siri has been reading to me, her intonation and inflection have improved tenfold. You’ll get used to the quirks (like funny pronunciation of contractions, and reading the page numbers as it flips the pages) and you’ll hardly notice them after a while. Once you tune your ear to listening, you may want to adjust the speed at which the text is read. (I like max speed but choose whatever works for you.)

Ready to get started? Here are three ways to use a listening pass to move your project forward.

1. Review scenes and chapters while writing your first draft 

Often, as a mom of teens, I’m forced to break my writing trance to pick up a kid from the hockey rink or drive someone to the football field. Now, I use these breaks and time in the car to listen to newly drafted scenes.

Give yourself a lot of grace with these scenes. It may not be the immersive experience you envisioned with perfectly crafted sentences—yet. Don’t despair. Use these listening passes to get a feel for what’s working and what’s not.

Some questions you can ask yourself while listening:

Is the scene engaging and moving your story forward?Can you see where a character is on their arc?Are there any info dumps or clunky sections where you lean too heavily on one writing technique—actions, reactions, dialogue, inner thoughts, setting descriptions, etc.?

Once you’re done listening (or if you’re in the car, you’ve made it to your destination), take a few notes about the shape of the scene. Jot down anything that you know needs to be added or fixed. Don’t rely on your memory to write it down later, do it while it’s fresh.

Because I can never find a pen, I like to dictate notes into the Notes app on my phone and email them to myself. Then, when I’m back at my desk, I add the notes to my project’s document, so I know what changes I need to make the next time I’m working on that scene.

2. During revision

Once you have a complete first draft, listening to the entire manuscript helps you experience your story as a reader will. It can help you assess how all the pieces are coming together and spot what might be missing from your pages.

Remember, when revising, you want to start by addressing the overarching, story-level issues before getting into the nitty-gritty of polishing sentences. So, sit back and try to enjoy your book the way you hope a reader will. A listening pass can help highlight these story-level issues and pinpoint anything from an underdeveloped character to plot holes and pacing issues.

3. Proofreading

Your mind can, and will, fill in gaps and skip over errors when you’re too familiar with it. That’s one of the reasons some typos make it all the way through multiple levels of editing and into published books. But your phone won’t make the corrections your brain tries to when it reads your work back. It’ll read it exactly as it’s typed. Using this method of proofreading, you’ll hear the errors more quickly than you may spot them on paper, exponentially increasing your odds of catching any pesky typos.

Note: Word processing programs such as Microsoft Word on your desktop have similar technology available. However, I prefer to use my phone. The phone apps will hold your place if you stop listening and come back later.

Take your writing with you

A full listening pass of a 100,000 word book generally takes 8–10 hours, at 2x reading speed. It’ll take you longer if you listen at the natural 1x pace. The freeing part about using a listening pass is that you do not need to be chained to your desk. Try listening while going for long walks, cleaning the bathroom, cooking dinner, or decluttering a closet. (I’ve done all of the above.) I even bought underwater headphones to listen to a book while swimming (my favorite form of exercise). The change of scenery and movement can help you experience your work in a whole new way.

While taking your writing away from your desk: If you hear something you want to change while listening, just pause the reading and dictate, write, or type a quick note to yourself so you remember what to fix later. (Tip: For these more specific changes, include a portion of the sentence that needs to be fixed so you can use the search function to find it easily later when making corrections.)

Happy listening!

Ready to start listening to your writing today? Get Suzy’s guide on how to set it up (iPhone version) by registering here.

Turn Fact Into Fiction—Without Hurting Someone or Getting Sued

Photo by Antoni Shkraba

Today’s post is by author Caroline Leavitt (@carolineleavitt).

I’m sitting at a table talking to a friend when they tell me this astonishing, deeply compelling story about what happened to them when they were 15 and they had committed a murder, and yes, they did it, and yes, they served time. Early released, desperate to be forgiven, my friend then created a whole new identity and began to live a new life. Until their forties, when they were outed, losing friends and family. They had to start anew and create yet another identity. 

Of course, I’m stunned and shocked by this story, but I’m also deeply sympathetic because I absolutely know this person is a good person and this story is raising all sorts of questions for me. Because I’m a writer, later when I’m alone, I can’t help but think: God, this would make a great novel. Already the idea is spinning in my mind, trailing off into subplots and characters, but then I stop myself cold.

Because what my friend gave me was a private confession. What if my friend doesn’t want me to use the story? What if my friend says yes, except they want to read it first, and then they decide it’s not told the way they see it? I agonize that I am invading my friend’s privacy. I worry that I could lose a friend, that I could even be sued. 

And still, the story haunts me.

Remember the story of the bad friend that was making the rounds, about a writer who took her friend’s idea about donating a kidney for altruistic reasons and used it for a story without asking permission and all hell broke loose? This was hotly debated in the literary community, and in the end, one error was that the author had plagiarized words from an email. But the story itself was up for grabs.

Or was it?

I couldn’t let go of my friend’s story. I loved this person, but I didn’t want to hurt them or invade their closely guarded privacy—which is why I’m not revealing more details about them right here.

I decided that I would totally change the story, keeping only the kernel that had snagged me—the idea of forgiveness, of guilt and innocence, and what they mean. I wanted to write about someone reinventing themselves and then being caught at it.

It took me six months to craft an outline which became my new novel, Days of Wonder. Instead of one person, I now had two fifteen-year-olds living in different parts of a different city, and for the novel it was New York City. They were Romeo and Juliet lovers, a wealthy boy and a girl from a single seamstress mom. Instead of a murder, I changed it to an attempted murder. I changed everyone’s description; every action was different. By the time I finished, I had transformed the initial story so completely that it had, I hoped, a life of its own. My friend has not read the book, but I have given it, with no explanation, to a mutual friend. She liked the characters, liked the story, and when I asked her if she thought the characters were too recognizable, she blinked hard. “To whom?” she said, and then I relaxed.

Of course there are rules. Never ever use real names. Never describe someone in a way that they are recognizable, especially if you are writing about something damaging like drug addiction or crime. Don’t use the same city, or the same time period, if you can help it. Change everything about the person, from their name to their height to the size of their shoes. If they live in a walk-up, make it an elevator building. Brown hair? No, no, it’s now red. Someone works at Mass General Hospital? Make up a name of a hospital. It’s fiction, you can do that.

Should you ask someone before you write about their life?

You can, but be forewarned: that doesn’t always protect you. The author of The Help, about black maids in the 1960s, gave a draft of her book to her childhood maid before it was published. But she wasn’t sued until the book came out, and the case was dismissed because the maid who was suing had had months to read the book and hadn’t.

One time I decided to write a personal essay about a terrifying summer when my then sister-in-law was busy sleeping with her husband’s shrink and my own first marriage was collapsing. “You have to write about it!” my sister-in-law told me. Not only that, but she gave me more details to use. I told her of course I’d change her name, the city, the descriptions. She was happy when the story was published in New York magazine. Happy, too, when I got to go on the Today Show (twice!) to talk about it.

But when I got a film option, suddenly the stakes were high enough for her to want to sue. She threatened me and I had to get an attorney. But again, because she had read the piece and approved it, because she had seen me on the Today Show, she could not win. Still, it took a few years for us to patch up our friendship. But we did.

Of course, you are safest when the person is dead. In Days of Wonder, wonderful stories from my mother began to seep into the narrative. My mother never wanted me to write about her ever, but after her death, I wanted to feel closer to her, so I embellished all her stories about growing up in an Orthodox Jewish home, a world she had loved, up until her father, the local rabbi, died suddenly and she lost her faith. It made me feel closer to her, as if I were honoring the love I had for her.

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Think about your motive. Are you trying to even a score? That’s always a bad place to write from.

Is the story just too good to let go? Then dissect the elements to find the parts that really engage you. And then change it as much as you can.

I write about what haunts me, what I need to rewrite into fiction in a way that helps me understand not just what happened but why. I keep revising and revising, and if I do the revisions right, the stories I’m telling will sound like they came from the characters I’ve created, and not from the real people at all—and readers will simply be immersed in a great story, rather than a roman a clef. Good and careful writing teaches us that writing about the stories of others is really about writing our own.

Boundaries Are About More Than Simply Carving Out the Time to Write

Photo by Erin Larson on Unsplash

Today’s post is by writer Mirella Stoyanova (@mirellastoyanova).

There are a select few life lessons that I am fated to learn the hard way. As a therapist, a trauma survivor, and a consummate people pleaser (not to mention a woman), setting healthy boundaries is one of them. 

So I should have known that establishing my own boundaries would be an important part of developing my identity as an emerging writer. Yet, what little I had read about boundaries when it came to writing (Protect your time! Don’t compare yourself to others!) and how much I’ve learned since I began the journey, have revealed a lot about the ways I still need to grow to become the writer I want to be. 

Before we dig in, I first want to introduce boundaries as an expression of what you need to sustain yourself in any given endeavor. Boundaries could be limits or standards—I think of them as two sides of the same coin.

Limits refer to what we do not have the capacity for, or what is unsustainable to a particular relationship. Standards refer to various behaviors that sustain a particular relationship that you either accept from others or attempt to embody yourself.

We think most often about boundaries in the context of relationships with others. But I would argue that boundaries are equally important to consider as they relate to the relationship we have with ourselves (the relationship from which all others are based)—and also, how they relate to various other facets of our lives, like our work. A job description, for instance, is a contractual set of boundaries you agree to with an employer based upon the scope of work you are being paid to perform.

Now, as a quick aside, it is both striking and, sadly, unsurprising to me (given how much talk there is of exploitation in the writing world) that more is not said on how new and emerging authors can sustain themselves in the work of writing. Author Courtney Maum wrote an excellent piece about this on her Substack a few months ago. 

But boundaries are important whether you are published or not. And when it comes to building a career as a writer, your boundaries are about more than simply carving out the time to write. 

For aspiring authors in particular, there are two separate but interrelated areas around which a better grasp of boundaries could prove useful, especially for those of us attempting to build a writing career without the benefit of an MFA.

These two areas involve (1) the way we write and shape our own writing identities and (2) the way we consume content and services designed to help us write. One is about the way we negotiate boundaries with ourselves as writers, the other is about the way we negotiate boundaries with others—and the two are inextricably linked.

The way we write is all about making decisions.

At a basic level, if you write an essay or a book or really anything for that matter, you have to decide what to include or omit, what you want to say, and how you want to say it.

These decisions are informed by broader questions that determine your personal set of boundaries as a writer. For instance, what will you write about? What topics are off limits? What opportunities do you pursue and which do you kindly decline? What are the issues so important to you that they come to define how you show up to your writing (otherwise known as the hills you will die on)?

To make these decisions, you first need to know yourself. To make these decisions well, you have to honor what you know. In other words, you have to uphold your boundaries.

As a personal example, I have strong feelings about presenting in a way that is congruent with who I am in real life. So when I write or present myself to the writing world, one standard I strive to maintain is to be open about who I am. Sometimes that means acknowledging my shortcomings with a healthy dose of levity. Other times, that means standing up for what I believe in. 

Here are three more examples of boundaries that could be related to your writing identity:

I will not be a part of a critique group that does not value my feedback or offer me feedback that I value. Instead of pushing to exhaustion when I notice I have nothing left to write, I will stop writing for the day.I will not spend more time consuming than I do creating. 

That last one is a nice segue into the second area in which I think we all could stand to benefit from better boundaries: consuming writing-related content and services. 

Most of us think we are, at least, within reach of making our personal publishing dreams come true. It’s why so many people think they can write a book—and probably why so many of us try (and then quit when the going gets tough). 

For better or worse, an entire industry has been built to profit off of these hopes and dreams.

Thankfully, whistleblowers like Writer Beware exist to call attention to those acting in bad faith, but what about those well-meaning writing professionals who are not a good fit to provide the services we need, who underdeliver, or who act poorly or in ways that leave a lasting negative impression?

Unless you have a strong sense of your own boundaries, it can be hard to have the courage to give feedback or to ask for what you need. And frankly, your own boundaries might get overstepped multiple times before you realize that the problem is actually something you are responsible for—because our boundaries are our own responsibility to protect.

But it’s not just services. It’s opting into the mailings that crowd your inbox each morning. It’s going down the YouTube or TikTok rabbit hole for hours on end. It’s subscribing to more paid Substacks than you could ever hope to read (it’s okay, my eyes are bigger than my stomach, too).

Because as it turns out, much like with writing, boundaries require us to make decisions.

Boundaries call for discernment about the quality of our interactions. And if you’re feeling resentful about the way an interaction went, anxious about something you put out into the world or if you’re feeling frustrated with your own writing productivity or habits, you may actually have a boundary issue on your hands. 

To assess your boundaries in a particular area of your writing life, ask yourself the following questions:

Is something bothering me more than it should? Am I comfortable with this? Does this align with my goals? What is my desired outcome?

Truth be told, I am still figuring out my boundaries with writing because—and this is crucial—I am still figuring out the writer I want to be. The wonderful thing is that the clearer I become on who I am, the better I become at understanding my boundaries—and honoring them. 

Boundaries empower me to take responsibility for my own writing life and the pursuit of my goals as I continue to revise my WIP and establish myself as an emerging writer.

Perhaps boundaries can empower you, too.

Why Your Flashbacks Aren’t Working

Photo by Eduardo Sánchez on Unsplash

Today’s post is by editor Tiffany Yates Martin (@FoxPrintEd). Join her for the three-part online class Mastering Backstory for Novelists.

Like a genie in a bottle, flashbacks can be wonderful and terrible things. They can grant you phenomenal power—painting in backstory other characters may not know or may be concealing, offering character motivation, raising stakes, creating deeper reader investment, heightening suspense, and more.

But, like the genie, if you don’t carefully control them, flashbacks can get disastrously out of hand.

If you worry your flashbacks aren’t working effectively, here are the most likely reasons why.

You have too many flashbacks.

Flashbacks are the seasoning that make the stew. Your story is and should be about the main real-time action of the story, not what led up to it. Relying too heavily on flashbacks to tell your story risks confusing readers or diluting the focus of the overall story.

Ask yourself why flashback is the most effective way to relate the info, or if it might be as effectively conveyed through context or memory. These forms of backstory that can be woven in more invisibly, without pulling the reader away from the main story.

If you’re using lots of flashbacks to tell your story effectively, consider whether you may in fact have a multiple-timeline story. (Learn more about multiple timeline stories.)

The flashbacks are in the wrong place.

I’m looking at you, “cheat” flashback prologue. This is a common type of failed flashback, a temptation authors fall into when they know their first chapters don’t have enough action or a strong hook, and hope that plopping in more exciting action into the prologue can make up for a slow start. It can feel like a false promise, as readers may not understand what the actual story is about.

Used well, though, flashback prologues can be effective ways to set up a story and give it more resonance and higher stakes. For instance, in her novel Where We Fall, author Rochelle Weinstein’s brief opening flashback prologue gives the rest of the story context and perspective on the three protagonists’ history and relationships that raises the story’s impact and reader investment, and poses the central story question: What happened to these three characters and the relationship we see in this flashback that’s radically changed in chapter one?

Like all backstory, ask yourself what I call the Watergate question of backstory: What does the reader need to know and when do they need to know it? A flashback plopped in randomly can be jarring and inorganic.

The flashbacks go on too long.

Flashbacks that run for pages and pages can stall momentum. They may also be offering more information and detail than is needed.

Ask yourself: What is the essential narrative purpose of the information in the flashback? Find the central kernel of meaning/illumination decide how much of the scene readers actually need to see to understand the impact on the main story. If readers don’t need to know exactly how something happened but simply that it happened, it may be more effective to add the information using threaded-in context or brief flashes of memory amid the forward movement of the real-time story.

If you do determine that parts of the information or events would be most effective as actual flashback, see if you can weave it in as snippets amid the present-moment scene or story, instead of using a giant chunk of scene, as Toni Morrison does almost invisibly throughout Beloved.

They are clunky and obvious.

The surest way to lose your reader is by hanging a lantern on the fact that you’re about to yank them into a flashback. You know what I’m talking about—those clumsily signaled flashbacks that begin, “He remembered his if it were yesterday, or “The scene played like a movie in her mind,” or “Suddenly she relived the moment when…”

Setting them off with different typefaces or fonts also screams, This is a sidetrack!, and readers may disengage or even skip over them. Calling attention to a flashback makes the reader cognizant of them as a device, which makes them see the author’s hand, which pulls them out of the story.

Try to seduce readers right into your flashback with smoothly integrated transitions, like connective tools (a sound, a sense memory, an event similar to one in the past). Read a full explanation: How to Transition into a Flashback.

 The flashbacks don’t move the story forward.

The holy grail of using flashback is that even as you take readers back to the past, the flashback should always move the story forward. That means whatever information they share should materially and essentially shed light on the character(s) and their arc in the main story, advance the main story with essential information, and/or raise stakes. 

If you can do all three with a flashback it’s even stronger, as Kate Quinn does in The Alice Network with a well-executed three-page flashback that shows why the protagonist is so powerfully motivated to find her missing cousin throughout the story.

The flashbacks aren’t directly relevant to the main story.

Not everything that happened in your world or characters’ lives prior to our “meeting” them matters to what you are presenting in this story. Authors don’t need exhaustive character bibles or biographies of every element of characters’ lives; trying to weave all that detail will clutter the story. Cherry-pick the elements that illuminate your characters’ motivations, goals, obstacles, and so on.

The flashbacks confuse readers.

If flashbacks are too frequent, too long, or it’s not readily apparent how they relate to the main story, readers may give up on trying to piece them together or make sense of them within the story.

Keep flashbacks as tight and efficient as possible, and don’t take readers down a flashback rabbit hole of flashbacks within flashbacks, or overwhelm them by dumping in new characters and storylines for them to keep track of without adequate context or connective tissue.

Final thoughts

The best way to find out how your flashbacks may be serving the story (or not) is with outside eyes: critique partners, beta readers, and editors can help point out where flashbacks may distract from or stall your story. But learning what makes flashbacks effective and how to diagnose how well they’re working in your story can help you spot any rough areas and smoothly incorporate the relevant past while always moving the story forward.

If you want to dig deeper into flashbacks and how to use them effectively in your story, join Tiffany and Jane for our ongoing masterclass, Mastering Backstory. This three-part course focuses this week on flashbacks and the tools and techniques that make them work.

How to Deliver Backstory Without Confusing the Reader

One of the key pitfalls of backstory, especially early in a novel, is either confusing backstory or overly coy and “mysterious” backstory. Here’s what it looks like.

In the enigmatic town of Serenity Falls, nestled deep within the embrace of towering pine forests and shrouded in perpetual mist, secrets were as abundant as the whispers that echoed through the labyrinthine streets. The townspeople moved with an air of quiet reserve, their eyes veiled and their lips sealed, guarding the mysteries that lurked in the shadows of their collective history.

Isabella, a newcomer to Serenity Falls, with a past as elusive as the morning fog, felt an inexplicable pull toward the town’s enigmatic allure, drawn by a sense of curiosity that she could neither explain nor ignore. She found herself embroiled in a web of intrigue and suspense that seemed to emanate from the very soul of the town itself.

Editor Tiffany Yates Martin discusses this terrible passage of backstory (written by AI, in fact) and then shows how to improve it. This is a super-powered lesson in great writing in just three minutes. Want more valuable nuggets like this? Sign up for Tiffany’s three-part class on Mastering Backstory.

How to Gain Traction in Your Career: Q&A with The Thriller Zone’s David Temple

Podcast host, author, and actor David Temple discusses his shift from being in radio to writing novels, how to navigate author interviews from both sides of the desk, what it takes to make your own book-to-film adaptation, and how he got some of the best known names in thriller writing to appear on his podcast, The Thriller Zone (@thethrillerzone).

Having spent his entire career as a broadcast professional, David Temple has hosted top-rated radio shows in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Detroit, Charlotte, and on both the Westwood One and Armed Forces Radio Networks. Throughout his career, David has been a filmmaker, a news anchor, a television producer, a home-shopping host, and even had a short stint as weatherman. Temple acts occasionally in films and television shows, and has been a career voiceover artist for radio, TV & film commercials and trailers. In his spare time, Temple records audiobooks, and hosts a weekly thriller fiction podcast on Apple, Spotify, AmazonMusic and iHeart Radio. David is currently crafting his tenth novel, and his first nonfiction book on health and longevity, as he battles prostate cancer. David and wife, Tammy, enjoy travel, books, films, and hiking in and around their home in San Diego.

KRISTEN TSETSI: Your foundation as an artist was voice: radio, voiceover work, etc., and you transitioned into doing some screen acting and directing. There’s some cultural overlap in voice and screen acting, so going from one to the other might be relatively smooth. But to make a shift to novel writing is to navigate an entirely different system, a new artistic “clique” (for lack of a better way to say it). What challenges, if any, did you experience when jumping cultures?

DAVID TEMPLE: Now this is a complex question, with all sorts of nuances, so thank you.

First of all, as an “artist”—which I believe we should call ourselves, if indeed we find enjoyment in crafting something extraordinary out of the ordinary—we are called to a higher purpose. That purpose involves entertaining the masses (outwardly), but also entertaining ourselves (inwardly).

While I had always known I had the gift of conversation, my confidence didn’t lie as much in the two-way interaction with family, friends, and neighbors as much as it circled around the imaginative world of the mind. I can recall decades upon decades ago how—even with mundane chores like mowing the yard—I would create conversations between people in particular situations. Some of those situations reflected scenarios I may have seen on television. Or, just things I think would make for an interesting story. (Now, before you call the white jackets to put me in a padded room, allow me to say I have always had an overactive imagination.) So, after spending decades in a profession that was my first love—radio—and after achieving so many of the goals I had fashioned for myself, only to see the “business” of the business shifting from what was once a very creative avenue of expression, I decided to get out.

Referring to your description of my spending time honing skills in voiceover work and acting for the screen, I became frustrated with the lack of control in so many of the competitive environments. Here’s what I mean. I could audition for a television show, or a film, and run up against so many people all doing the same thing, while so many of them looked much like me, yet perhaps with more talent. The real bottom line here is “lack of control.” Turning to the inward muse, and knowing I had the ability to tell a good story, and while working on something I could control, I turned to writing.

I figured it would be hard work, take a lot of time and energy, and would be very competitive; however, I always felt that I had some innate talents, plus a more than healthy drive, not to mention an insatiable tenacity to achieve my goals, so I put my mind into motion, my pen to paper, put in the time required to fail, and with the understanding that even with all the outward competition, my inward competitor would (more than likely) succeed and prevail. Have I yet? Well, I crafted my first nine novels on my own, as I “took myself to school” by learning how the world of self-publishing worked.

I’ve always been a student. Always. If there’s something I’ve wanted to learn to do, I simply started by giving myself a crash course in learning. Wanna write a screenplay? I bought the top five books on the subject and started learning. Then I started writing them. Sure, the first couple were horrible. And long. And just bad. But they got better. Want to learn to act? Read up, take a course, but best of all? Go audition. It’s the single scariest thing in the world to do, but you just do it. And fail. Badly. Then you do it again until you get better. Same with directing a film. Don’t know how? I bought ten books on the profession and/or procedures and/or how to do pretty much anything. Then I started writing shorts. And hiring my friends and family to play along. It helps that I had a circle of friends who made them as well. And we failed, but only until we didn’t. 

Back to books: I had no idea what a Kindle was. Never used one. Didn’t matter. I just found some software on how to format. Then I tried my hand (miserably, at first) at crafting covers—I’m pretty good at Photoshop and Canva Pro—and made covers that sucked. To get better, I practiced and studied the covers of authors who were among the top sellers. After all, it’s about the Benjamins! 

When I realized my own designs weren’t working, I turned to 99designs (not Fiverr). I no longer do my own covers, as I think it’s the wrong move. I can tell you that there are about three factions, in my experience, of book cover designers: (1) Below $600, you’re wasting your time, (2) $600-$1000 is kinda the sweet spot, and (3) $1200-$2000, which is where some of the “bigs” live. 

Now that I’ve spent nearly three years interviewing some of the biggest thriller writers in the world for my podcast The Thriller Zone, I have come to the conclusion that they, like me, are just as nervous about succeeding, and just as scared of failing, all the while feeling neurotic that someone will find them to be a phony. But they pressed on. And so shall I; thus, the reason I’m working on my next psychological thriller novel, and two nonfiction books based on health and cancer, and science and longevity.

What advice would you give someone who’s interested in entering the novel-writing world but is nervous about arriving what they might fear is “late” to the community? 

First of all, I don’t necessarily believe in “being late to the community.” I’m sure scores of writers throughout the years have asked a similar question. If one wants to write, then one should write. If that same person feels they’ve “missed the boat” or is “late to the game,” then perhaps they should consider something else. 

I would encourage anyone who genuinely wants to write to simply write. Not for the money (there may never be any), not for the prestige (I feel much of that is fleeting), and not for the attention (who needs any more of that? I mean, really). Bottom line: write as if your life depends upon it, IF your happiness depends upon it. Otherwise, there are many bigger, better, stronger, richer ways to make a living, feed your happiness, or find a pastime that pleases you.

You adapted Chasing Grace for the screen, accomplishing the fantasy of many a writer to see their work performed. It can seem like an improbable, if not impossible, endeavor without knowing someone in Hollywood, though, or having film school friends. Is it more feasible than we might think to self-produce an adaptation of a novel? If so, what’s the first step?

It’s ALL about connections. Period. Seriously, I’m not sure you could do it alone. Not really. I happened to hang out with a lot of creatives who knew various aspects of filmmaking and we just learned (and failed) together. 

When it came to Chasing Grace, I had made enough shorts (about five) to learn the mechanics. Then when I needed to raise money, I just asked. I always figured, “All they can say is no, and I’ll ask someone else.” So, I did that. Over and over. And over, until someone gave me some money. I went to people I knew who, and this is critical, have enough money to not care if they lose it. Read: rich. Or friends who have rich friends. Yes, you can try GoFundMe, but you have to be willing to pay for the donations, or give to get. If you want to raise money, start with friends and family. Just don’t expect to tap that well repeatedly. Then go to business leaders with dispensable cash. Mainly, seek out people of high net worth. Dentists make excellent investors, as they make a lot of money … and they love toys.

All the while I was raising money, I was also polishing my script to have on standby. Then an old friend wanted to work together and he had a long list of contacts, and since we had worked together on various projects before, we put together a film team. And as they say, the rest became history.

One large caveat is that I have always believed it best to surround yourself with people smarter than you, as they will nearly always make you look smarter than you really are. Another bottom line is one question I would ask: How badly do you want it? For you to see it happen, you have to really, truly, sincerely want it. It’s one of the very biggest boulders you’ll ever push up the very steepest of hills. It nearly killed me getting that damn movie made. I worked nearly 16 hours a day, between raising money, polishing the script, finding the crew, raising more money, scouting the locations, asking friends for favors, raising more money, and kept doing that until we got it done. I was E-X-H-A-U-S-T-E-D, but it was worth it, because I wanted to do it. And I’d do it again tomorrow! 

What have you learned about the nature of building and maintaining professional connections?

Connections should be nurtured over time, handled with care, and always respected. Give first, before you take. Be willing to help others with disregard for yourself, to start. Sow seeds of genuine caring. Build a relationship. Find common ground. Study hard. Listen harder. Be willing to lift someone else’s burden, and trust yours will be lifted too. Not to be corny or crass, but truly give a shit—people can tell when you do. It’s not that hard. Oh, and do your freakin’ homework.

Many writers also have fantasies about starting a podcast on writing, or books, or writing and books. In 2021 you started the author-interview podcast The Thriller Zone. Aside from any equipment needed to ensure professional-level sound, what does it take for someone to have a decent podcast? What skills might someone try to cultivate, or what tips should they keep in mind?

Such a good question, and one that I wish/hope people will heed. If you want to do a podcast about writing/books, I have a simple three step process (aside from the equipment notes you made, and I’m happy to elaborate on that in another session). 

Step one: Learn how to LISTEN. Be more ready to listen first and speak second. It’s one of my biggest pet peeves. I see/hear so many people who think, “Oh, I’ll just grab a microphone and a ring light from Amazon, and I’ll start talking to one of my pals.” Wrong. I hear it all the time and frankly, it’s disgusting. It sounds more like two dudes slurping beers in a garage and just talking trash about nothing. There’s a reason Joe Rogan is top dog right now: he reads a lot, and he listens well. Same with Sam Harris; the guy’s brilliant, extremely educated, and insightful as hell. Plus, he’s an incredible listener. 

Bottom line? Have Something To Say. And take time to Listen First. 

As for the skills to cultivate, read everything you can get your hands on that surrounds the person you’re interviewing, or at the very least, read the very latest thing they’ve written and be able to ask smart questions well aside from the classic, “What inspired you to write this story,” or “Where do you get your ideas?” 

Put in the time. People often ask me how much time I put into a single podcast. You may be surprised to know that I can spend anywhere from 10 to 20 or even 30 hours working on a single podcast—and that doesn’t even include reading the book. Excellent work doesn’t just happen. PUT IN THE TIME! 

Last note: reach inside yourself to ask questions that not everyone else asks, and—perhaps like me—start a conversation that doesn’t have a single thing to do with the damn book; you may be surprised to see the author is pleasantly surprised that you asked about them.

Your guests have ranged from debut authors to Dean Koontz, who is a category unto himself. How does someone relatively new to the fiction world secure interviews with some of the genre’s best-known writers? 

Ask them. 

I researched the people I wanted to speak with, found their publishers or publicists (Publishers Weekly is a good resource), and reached out asking if they’d like to be on my podcast. I did, however, mention my background in radio (25+ years) and markets in which I’d worked (NY, LA, Chicago, Philadelphia, Detroit, etc). I shared my experience and told them some people I’d already had committed to appear. 

If I wanted Stephen King, for example, I’d most likely go to one of his books, see who he has thanked in his acknowledgments, and start there. I’d also reach out to his publisher, his publicist, and his agent. In fact, now that I think about it, perhaps I’ll reach out like this.

You have to have a looooot of patience. As in: I wanted Don Winslow. I loved his books. So I went to one of his book signings. Then another. And another. I think by the third time, and he knew who I was, I said I had a podcast and asked if he’d like to be a guest. He said yes, gave me his number, I called and arranged it, and done! 

Don was one of the very first people I wrote on my list. Dean was in the Top 10. I’m big into visualization and making my dreams known to the Universe. Pardon the woo-woo, but it’s true-true: I’m a big believer in seeing it and attaining it. Plus, I have very little fear about stuff (well, except sharks, crashing waves against rocks, cancer, and crazy people who have nothing to lose. Oh, and big spiders).

One of my mantras—and it’s not original—is The Worst They Can Say Is No. And I’ll Ask Someone Else. Have faith in yourself, and remember this one…very…important…aspect: you’re helping them sell their books, which in turns makes them money.

Can you recommend a particular platform for beginning podcasters? 

This is such an in-depth conversation, but I’ll simply say this: Low budgets with little experience: Buzzsprout. Bigger budgets with more experience and most of the bells/whistles I need (and the one I use): transistor.fm

Buzzsprout is dirt cheap. Transistor is (almost too) expensive. Both sites provide pricing.

I’m on all podcast directories. It’s not hard to get on them. The best? Apple, far and away, for exposure and reach. Spotify is second. 

When you aren’t reaching out to potential guests to talk about their books, authors are probably reaching out to you. What approaches are you more receptive to, and what’s likely to go unanswered or rejected? 

I’ll respond with last first. Don’t “Dear Colleague” me. If you haven’t taken the time to know my name, I will not give you the time to respond—much less even finish reading the first sentence. Nope, you can count on DELETE, just like that. I borrow some of the thinking of agents: use my name and address me correctly, show me that. If you’ve heard the show before, perhaps mention a favorite episode and just be patient knowing that I’m being pitched every single day, just like agents.

You should seem as though you really want this as a career, with at least one or two books already published, either self or trad. That’s the start. 

One of the biggest draws for me, and yes, it’s as old as dirt and as cliché as they come, but it’s absofreaking true: We DO judge a book by its cover. Invest in a good cover? If so, you’re 50% there! Bad cover? It hits my personal slush pile. Oh, and if you’re tenacious and repetitive and nearly obnoxious in your pursuit to be interviewed about this one book but can’t read between the lines of my cordially structured “I’m not interested in this book,” read my earlier statement about listening.

Show that you have the drive, the dream, and the determination. This includes a solid social media presence and a rock-solid website. Invest in a good headshot that best represents you. Invest in book covers that either take your breath away, or at the very least snag my attention and show me something I haven’t seen yet—or if I have seen, perhaps just not that way.

Send me your book, allow me to read it, and if I don’t pick this book, know that I may pick your next book. I can’t tell you how many times people have sent me books only for me to never cover them. Until one day, something clicks. And there’s no explaining WHAT or WHY something clicked, but it did. One such was Terrence McCauley. That guy hit me up near the beginning of my podcast. I didn’t read the books, and I’m not even sure I even thanked him, until one day, he hit me at the right time, with the right book, and we clicked, and I invited him, and he showed up prepared, and it was a solid interview, and we’ve actually become friends since then. His tenacity paid off. Plus, the guy is a prolific writer. He just keeps writing. I’m impressed with that. 

By the way, there are a LOT of PR/Pub people out there pushing books (like mad) because they’re being paid to (by authors willing to dish big bucks for exposure); however, so many of them just aren’t that good. And for so many reasons. Best advice: write the very best book you have the ability to write (while reading some of the very best writers in your genre) and invest in both a good artist for the cover and a superb editor for the insides. Next, build up a tidy nest egg to invest in pub and marketing. Show you have traction. Then hit the bricks. And swing for the fence.

Define traction (in what you look for as “traction,” I mean) and why it’s important to you that they have that versus, say, an endorsement from a trusted, well-known name. Sometimes it’s hard to show traction if you can’t get people to interview you until you have traction.

Traction to me means you’re doing the daily work of trying to gain exposure, recognition, position, etc.

I’ve learned in my near-three years that an endorsement, also known as a blurb, is really quite often people doing one another favors. They’re not even reading the books, at least for the majority, but they are scratching backs because everyone needs it and does it.

I’m happy to say I’ve always been a cheerleader for the underdog. And I still am, in part. However, with more demands on my time—including my own books (both fiction and non), and the needs of my wife and family—it just isn’t sustainable to read, research, interview, edit and post. 

If you want an inside scoop on one of my absolute pet peeves, it’s when I go the distance to do everything I just listed, provide a valuable service, as I do, and then the author does either nothing, or next to nothing to further promote his/her appearance on my podcast. It really chaps the hell outta me, as I spend a LOT of time, effort and money to provide a service; the least you could do is repost/retweet/re-whateverthehellitis … and help a brother out!

When someone wants to be interviewed about their work, the “Yes” from an interviewer can feel like a huge win—but the interview itself is what’s important. In all your years in radio, and now podcasting, you must have experienced those who are, and who are definitely not, good at being interviewed, or who at least either do or don’t do a service to their book or to themselves. What’s an example of how a person might sabotage their own interview, and what makes a good interview subject? Are there ways to practice being a good interviewee?

OMG (sorry for my teen outburst but this one’s so good). Here is how 90% of the people who crash and burn on my podcast do so, and trust me, I work very, very hard at making the process as easy and kind and seamless as is possible, but people still continue to completely disregard just a few simple asks:

First and foremost, care about what you look and sound like. Do you own a razor? When’s the last time you saw a hairbrush? Doesn’t everyone by now have a ring light? Trust me, I’m NOT saying “get a ring light” but I am saying please, for the love of God, if you want to be seen, use ambient lighting like a window and let me see you. 

If you only want to be heard—and these days, who wants only that?—then it’s a different conversation. Drop the dime on a good mic. (I’m *this close* to crafting a How To Be Interviewed on a Podcast video.) Don’t rely on those damned dangling headphones. NO, they do not produce good sound. And unless you like the incessant echo of your voice during a cast, headphones would be a good way for you to hear me talking to you rather than your microphone picking up the feedback. 

Be interesting. To me, being “interesting” is like being good on a first date. In other words, don’t be a doofus. Don’t say stupid things. Don’t be rude. Be willing to talk about anything besides your book. There’s more to life than your freakin’ book, even though that’s the main reason we’re chatting. 

If you’re worried about getting nervous, have a good story or anecdote or quote in your back pocket for those moments you freeze. Think of an author you really like and learn one of their quotes, or have a sample of their skill that impresses you and that you perhaps used in your work. 

Listen. Ask the host a question or two. Even though “it’s all about you,” take 20 seconds and ask your host something about themselves. Remember that a conversation is a two-way street. Trust me, the good hosts (and I hope I’m one of them) are smart enough to not gobble that time up for themselves, but instead keep the spotlight focused on YOU.

Have your book’s elevator pitch down to a freakin’ science. But keep it truly short and sweet. Use phrases that pull me in, that aren’t the same thing every other person uses.

Finally, be comfortable with yourself. If it’s taking off your shoes, do that. For me, it’s standing. I don’t like to sit in interviews. I never sat during my radio shows. Like, almost never. Standing literally “keeps you on your toes” and you breathe better, and you’re sharper. Sitting makes you lazy, and often boring. And if you can’t stand, lean forward.