Jane Friedman's Blog: Jane Friedman, page 47

Your Manuscript Has Been Edited By Top Professionals—But You Still Get Rejected. What Gives?

Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán

Ask the Editor is a column for your questions about the editing process and editors themselves. It also features first-page critiques. Want to be considered? Submit your question or submit your pages.

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by The Writing Consultancy. Stuck on revisions? Work with an expert editor to revise and submit your fiction or memoir. Get started here >> Submit your manuscript to schedule your free 20-minute call with award-winning author and editor, Britta Jensen.

Question

My manuscript has been edited by two top editors on the east and west coasts. Yet, it has been declined by more than 250 fiction agents who merely decline by form letter. I have no idea what could be wrong. I have a great story, but maybe for the wrong time. I am not a BIPOC author and my characters are not BIPOC, which seems to be a lot of what agents are looking for.

—Rejected and Dejected in Miami

[Editor’s note: We asked this writer for their query and first pages so we could best assess the situation rather than guessing. The following answer is based on a review of those materials.]

Dear Dejected,

There are three reasons your book is getting rejected:

The query isn’t selling the book or your professionalism.The book feels dated (despite the argument in the query that it’s in tune with current events).In the first 25 pages, as the story flickers to life, it’s drowned in an ocean of backstory.

Let’s talk about the query first. An author’s query must establish three things: this story is compelling, this author understands the conventions of publishing, and the book has a market.

The query’s description of the plot and themes make the book sound like a downer, and it’s unclear where any hope, triumph or change appears. What’s the lead character’s choice? Where does she take an action that transforms her world?

Most queries are 250–350 words, with some narrative nonfiction stretching to 450–500 words. This query is 750 words. No matter how well-written it is, sending a 750-word query announces, “I don’t know much about how publishing works.” Plus the query is missing some key elements—the book’s word count and genre (women’s fiction).

Half of the 750 words are themes, comps, social issues and cultural movements more suited to self-help or narrative nonfiction than women’s fiction. It’s great to offer quality comps, though. Comparative/competitive titles show agents that readers are buying books like yours—but their purpose is to show current buying patterns. Of the seven books, three documentaries, two news organizations and three celebrities mentioned in the query, only three of those media qualify as “current” (within the last few years) and only one of those is a book. For a novel, list two or three comps, books or TV/movies, that are fiction.

Authors should also watch out for reviewing their own book. Assertions like “readers will sympathize” and “an emotionally gripping tale” ring false in queries. Let the agent discover those characteristics when they read the manuscript pages.

Now let’s address the current events angle. In addition to some other arguments that the book is relevant today, the query says, “In 1979, parental kidnapping was not widely considered a crime. Despite 40 years of new national and international laws, it remains a persistent problem today.” The book is set in 1979, and while feminism, parental custody battles leading to kidnapping, and mental illness in children are very much modern topics, we think differently about them today. Issues that seemed insurmountable to the most conservative couples in 1979 (but who will cook the dinner if Mom works?) are no longer the main focus. Mental illness is diagnosed and treated very differently, and there’s a much greater awareness of mental health in children.

Without a compelling reason to look at these issues in 1979, it feels like we won’t learn anything new. Most of the problems faced by Lena, the main character, would be handled very differently now. Unless the book is truly a deep dive into the 1970s/early 1980s (like Daisy Jones & the Six), readers will have a hard time understanding why the story is relevant now.

The backstory trap: In the first 6,500 words of the book, there are 450 words of story—when Lena’s husband calls a neighbor to say he’s taken the children in violation of a custody order. Before that, we get quite a few pages of motherly adoration of children, descriptions of children, descriptions of mom’s activities. After that small burst of story (which has a nice chunk of tension and stakes!), we get a full chapter of Lena’s parents’ personal history. Then a full chapter of Dad’s parents. Then a full chapter of the couple meeting and falling in love.

Writers often do this work of uncovering the characters and their pasts, and that work feels a lot like writing a book. But this level of backstory is the preliminary discovery phase, like the documents an attorney requests before putting together a passionate opening argument. Based on the pages I’ve read, it’s likely that the story doesn’t actually start for another 25 pages, and you might consider pulling out that 450 words of story to open the book, then cutting everything else until Lena takes an action towards getting her kids back. (And why have him call a neighbor? Why not have Lena be the target right away?)

Here’s the bottom line

Due to the long query and slow pages, the book is being rejected even before agents engage with the writing. And there are a couple of intriguing details—Lena sleeps on the sofa while the kids get the bedroom, and there’s a lot of potential in a Not Without My Daughter-style story set among Americans.

But overall, the writing needs work. There’s a lot of telling and explaining, instead of bringing the reader into the scene with the characters. Lena is described as “sly,” shown as calculating, and her inner monologue is anti-feminist in a way that’s off-putting to current readers, so it’s hard to want to spend time with her.

The Mexican parents are introduced stereotypically, and if an agent makes it that far, that’s the nail in the coffin. They won’t make it to the discussion of Henry’s ethnic and racial slurs, which seem irrelevant to the plot thus far.

I hesitate to criticize your previous editors. I don’t know what you (and they) started with when you began the process, and moving from a journalism background to a novel is challenging. As an editor myself, sometimes I work on a book for long enough that I’ve lost the big picture. Recently, a client made a big change in her book, in consultation with a new reader I’d recommended, and I felt like an idiot for not noticing that change had been needed the whole time. I’ve also watched a client work on a book for a long time that I knew wouldn’t sell, but I also knew they needed to finish and discover that for themselves.

This is probably not your debut novel. This manuscript is either source material for a new story, not just heavily revised but completely re-envisioned—or it’s a practice book.

Don’t shop this to small presses. Don’t self-publish. The same elements in the query, story and writing that aren’t attracting agents will also not attract readers.

Instead, consider what you love about this story, and why you feel compelled to write it. What matters to you about this heroine? The query focuses on the larger cultural context and mentally ill toddlers; the book opens with the daily minutia of her motherhood. What does Lena want? What choices does she face? How must her life goals change, and how must she change along the way? Most importantly, what’s powerful in her hopes and wishes, fears and dreams, that causes her to take action, to change, and to change the reader with her?

The process of finishing a book is a victory in itself. I have a memoir I’ll never go back to, and a novel that may not see the light of day. But writing our “practice” books teaches us not only how to write a book, but that we can. You can write a book. You did. And the world is waiting for what you write next.

—Allison K Williams

Addendum from Jane: For those reading the comments, you’ll see some seek a direct response to the writer mentioning she’s not BIPOC—but she sees agents and publishers actively seeking BIPOC work or BIPOC characters. The implication is she’s getting rejected because she’s white or because her characters are white. Given the challenges that Allison has described, that is obviously not the case. Allison shared on Twitter, “It’s hard to understand why our queries get form rejects. ‘Because I’m white’ isn’t even in the top 100 reasons. Celebrate publishing’s (still too slowly) growing diversity. Buy books by BIPOC, analyze what made them strong enough to publish, learn and grow.”

“Rejected and Dejected” is one of countless writers I’ve heard ask a similar question, although it is usually phrased in a different way. Oftentimes people are afraid to express this at all, or will only whisper it in private. So we hope this post shows that a writer’s best strategy, always, is to pay attention to their craft.

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by The Writing Consultancy. Stuck on revisions? Work with an expert editor to revise and submit your fiction or memoir. Get started here >> Submit your manuscript to schedule your free 20-minute call with award-winning author and editor, Britta Jensen.

I Hired ChatGPT As My Writing Coach

Today’s post is by author Audrey Kalman (@audreykalman).

On April 7, frustrated with my progress on a third full revision and still dancing around my novel’s central story question, I typed the following into my ChatGPT account.

Me: I am struggling with defining the one central thing my novel (currently in draft form) is about. Can you help me figure this out?

In roughly a millisecond, ChatGPT responded:

Of course, I’d be happy to help! Can you provide me with some more information about your novel? What genre is it, what is the general plot, and who are the main characters? This information will help me understand your story better and assist you in defining the central theme or idea.

I provided a short, rough synopsis. Seconds later, ChatGPT returned several paragraphs summarizing what I had provided and offering a possible theme: “The struggle to reconcile tangible and intangible aspects of reality, and the transformative power of belief in the unknown.”

Okay, that’s actually two themes.

Were either of them really what I’m going for? I’m not yet sure. But in a few minutes, ChatGPT had cleared the fog that often results from being too close to your own work and gave me a starting place for refinements. As I write this, a little more than a month after my first interaction with ChatGPT, I have a revised outline, an entire new story line for one of the characters, and a clear direction for my revision.

The Chatbot is in

I’ve checked in regularly with ChatGPT since that first session. I pose writing questions ranging from the general (character development) to the specific (developing a scene about a natural disaster). Occasionally I venture into the more emotional side of the creative process:

Me: I’ve been feeling frustrated at how long my revision is taking. I’m spending so much time planning when I really want to be writing. Do you have any suggestions for tempering my impatience?

ChatGPT: It’s completely understandable to feel frustrated and impatient during the revision process. Here are a few suggestions to help temper your impatience.

The chatbot’s suggestions for dealing with frustration are similar to those I might dispense to coaching clients: embrace the process, set realistic goals, take breaks, and practice self care. Nothing too original, but these interactions advance my work significantly by sparking further ideas.

Using ChatGPT this way feels qualitatively different than my earlier experiments with everything from research, compiling content, and generating comp titles to asking for plot suggestions that better reflect a character’s story arc.

This feels like a coaching relationship.

Having both provided and received coaching, I appreciate the back-and-forth, generative quality of the interactions. That’s what excites me about teaming up with a generative AI system. Talking with ChatGPT the way I might with my long-time writing partner or a writing coach led me somewhere I never would have gotten on my own.

Can a generative AI be an effective writing coach?

ChatGPT possesses what I estimate to be about 70 percent of the skills that make an effective coach, which makes me a little nervous as someone who still offers human coaching. It’s good at:

listening and reflectingmaking guided suggestions based on stored knowledgeresponding without an agenda—a place I’ve had to work hard to arrive at as a human coach so I can offer nonjudgmental, non-prescriptive support; without its own experiences to share, ChatGPT is objectiveless by definition.

In some cases, a generative AI is better than a human. It doesn’t sleep, take a lunch break, or stifle a yawn in the middle of your rambling explanation of a writing problem.

However, the 30 percent of the competencies that it lacks represent the real juice of human-to-human coaching relationships, making a strong case for engaging a human coach, either exclusively or in addition to an AI-based one. That 30 percent includes the following skills.

1. Intuition

Often, human coaches can intuit what writers should focus on, regardless of the issues they bring to the coaching session, and gently guide them in a different direction. ChatGPT may not tell the hard truths about your situation, such as: “At this stage, worrying about story continuity might not serve you. Maybe you should focus instead on how readers will form an emotional connection with the characters.”

2. Reading between the lines

The ability to read between the lines, to interpret subtle language cues (especially body language in face-to-face interaction), and to build on the foundation of an ongoing relationship remain—for now—in the human realm. A human listener can respond based on information that goes beyond the specifics of a prompt.

3. Human pacing and cadence

Humans have been talking to one another for hundreds of thousands of years. As frustrating as our communication can be, there is comfort in its human-paced rhythm. ChatGPT, by contrast, can respond within seconds or even fractions of a second, a rate our conscious minds can’t match. Human/AI conversations tend to be lopsided as the human pauses to absorb an answer and formulate a reply.

Of course, future enhancements could make ChatGPT’s response cadence more human. Think, for example, what might happen when ChatGPT gains a human-like voice. Will it mimic human communication tics such as formulating an answer before you have finished speaking, or cut you off mid-sentence?

4. Experiential empathy

Many writers enjoy writing in the company of others or gathering to commiserate about writerly dilemmas. We take pleasure in these activities largely because of the feeling that we share common challenges. ChatGPT’s empathy is a form of mimicry based solely on gathered data.

This, too may evolve. Although I remain aware for now that the empathy is artificial, the human tendency to anthropomorphize technology has been around for a long time. There’s a body of research about emotional attachment to artificial intelligences, and no reason to think this won’t apply to chatbots like ChatGPT.

5. Handcrafting and physicality

The introduction of digital music was anticipated to doom the vinyl record album. But interest in vinyl has surged because interacting with music through a physical medium is a qualitatively different experience than interacting digitally. Similarly, literary artists and their appreciators are offering their creative talents in physical form in ways that a generative AI cannot reproduce.

6. Embodiment

We are more than our thoughts. Since humans first began philosophizing, we have embraced the idea of mind/body/spirit. ChatGPT has no body, and by its own admission, no spirit. (When asked directly about the topic, it responds, “As an AI language model, I don’t have feelings or opinions.”) AI’s access to facts may be nearly limitless, but its knowledge of the physical and spiritual dimensions come to us filtered through intellect.

Should you explore using ChatGPT as a writing coach?

I believe you’ll be better served to explore ChatGPT’s potential to augment human creativity than to lament what it may take away from writers, but your answer will depend on your willingness to experiment and how comfortable you are with both technology and uncertainty. To benefit, you’ll be well served by an ability to ask the right questions in the right way, perhaps honed by years of search-engine research, so you can craft prompts that will elicit valuable responses.

Your answer also depends on how you feel about the larger issues around generative AI such as what value humans bring to a world in which artificial intelligence is finding its way into more human endeavors.

We’re being called on once again to redefine ourselves as humans, examine our most deeply held beliefs and values, and emerge with an understanding of how technology can work for us rather than the other way around. Who better to do this than a group of people—writers—known for imagination, communication chops, and an ability to dream new worlds into existence?

10 Ways to Nurture a Young Writer

Today’s guest post is by author and publishing consultant K.B. Jensen (@KB_Jensen).

What do you do when a teen in your life is a diehard writer? When they won’t clean their room and just want to write stories or poems all day?

First off, congrats to any adult reading this who wants to support a young writer whether they are related or not. You are lucky to have a dreamer in your life, and they are lucky to have you.

I have a unique perspective on this situation, as a former kid who loved writing (and still does) as well as a parent of a kid who loves writing, and a coach in writing programs for adults and kids, including My Word Publishing’s Emerging Teen Authors Writing and Publishing Camp online.

Here are some things we’ve learned from preteen and teen writers at our publishing camp on how to help them on the journey:

1. Don’t underestimate the power of a positive adult influence.

When I was in third grade, a special teacher in my life, Mrs. Nancy Grein, used to send me to the principal’s office to read my stories. I won grand prize in a writing contest that year and got tossed into the gifted program afterward. Long story short: For a kid who flunked first grade, this was a big change, and it altered the trajectory of my life. Mrs. Grein gave me her school picture and on the back of it she wrote: “I look forward to reading your book one day.” It meant so much to me.

In contrast, when I told my dad I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, he told me I’d starve. So: watch what you tell your young writer. They might write about you one day! So if your kid tells you they’re a writer, believe them and help them along on the journey.

Above all, believe in your writer. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you aren’t a writer,” author and cover designer Victoria Wolf recently told our camp teen writers at their latest book launch party. “Because you are.”

2. Don’t interrupt them.

This nugget comes straight from my now 14-year-old daughter, and I agree. When you spot your young writer on their laptop typing away at a story, this is not the time to badger them about cleaning their room or doing the dishes. Don’t interrupt their train of thought. Allow them to give themselves permission to write. Do not teach them that writing is not as important as other tasks. Because that’s something that they will have to unlearn later to be successful as a writer. What they are doing has value, even if it’s practice. Even if it’s never published. Even if writing just makes them feel great.

3. Listen carefully when they want to talk or share their stories.

Be kind, supportive, genuine, and specific in the things that you like. Don’t force sharing though. Some kids are shy while they are developing their craft or tackling uncomfortable topics. It’s okay if they don’t want you to read it. It’s great to give constructive and positive criticism, if they ask for it, but make sure you have their permission. Let them build on what they’re doing right, rather than focusing on the negative.

4. Help them learn how to research in a safe way.

So, the kid wants to write about a cult, crime, historical fiction that takes place in the 1980s (gasp), or some other topic? Offer to help them research. Make sure safe search is on their web browser at a minimum. My daughter jokes that she could already be on an FBI watch list, because she’s got an imagination in her search history and likes to write psychological horror. Find useful articles or info, and pass them along.

5. Have a writing party or family writing contest.

Set a timer and write together, if you like to write too. Share favorite lines, if you feel up for it. My husband is not a writer and jokes that he has a talent for writing a lot of emails. But once, we all wrote short stories and judged them. It was a fun family activity, and his story was surprisingly hilarious.

6. Consider a waterproof notepad in the shower.

I once received Aqua Notes in a mysterious Amazon package, and I have no idea who sent them to me, but they are wonderful. You can write story ideas and poems while you are in the shower. If your family shares a bathroom, you can leave each other notes of encouragement. It’s a great place to practice and brainstorm for writing.

7. Show your kid how to play with writing prompts.

There are countless sites for writing prompts. Images also work wonderfully. I love finding them on Pinterest. Anything can be a writing prompt if you think about it, like a treasured object on the top of your dresser, an old photograph, a favorite memory. The idea is to spark a story, sometimes a story you already wanted to write.

8. Find a contest for young writers, and encourage your kid to enter as an excuse to play.

Don’t make a big deal over whether they win or not. If they do win, that’s cool, of course, but it’s not the point and make that clear. The idea is to have fun with the guidelines and try new things.

9. Get them a library card and/or buy them books.

I used to stay up reading all night as a kid, and I’d check out the maximum 12 books at a time. You can learn so much about the craft just by reading amazing books. Consider reading the same books and talk about what you like in the stories and the style. There are some wonderful middle grade and YA books that adults can also enjoy. Bond with the writer in your life by reading what they like. Consider a family library night, where each family member picks out a book for the other to read and swap to try new authors or genres.

10. Find a positive and nurturing creative writing program for your young writer.

Whether it’s a creative writing club after school, a class or an online summer camp, look for a nurturing environment for the young writer in your life. Find a way to encourage a writing practice on a regular basis. Consider helping your young writer create or join a weekly club or monthly writing group with their writing peers in your area.

A note about My Word Publishing: Our camp helps teens learn to revise and works with top editors and designers to produce books for our award-winning Camp Ink Series. So far, our camp kids have published three books and won two awards. For more information or to register a camper, visit our website.

3 Ways Writers Block Their Success (While Thinking They’re Hard at Work)

Today’s guest post is by editor and coach Lisa Cooper Ellison (@lisaellisonspen).

In my early thirties, my aunt sent me a copy of The Secret, a movie claiming my thoughts determined my destiny. I watched it once, then shelved it, knowing I couldn’t just imagine my way to success. Yet my years as a writer and writing coach have taught me that the movie had a point. While you can’t wish your way to a book deal, your thoughts drive what you do.

Most of us spend our time dreaming of the external yes we hope to achieve—whether it’s an accepted pitch, query, or book deal. All external yeses stem from the yes inside you. But many of us lead from our no without realizing it. Those nos stem from feelings of unworthiness, doubts about our work, and fears that we’re not good enough—which are easy to trigger in a competitive field where you’re expected to cozy up with rejection.

It’s easy to spot our internal no when we’re feeling low, but many of these nos disguise themselves as hard work.

Because I recently appeared on the Hungry Authors Podcast, I divided these nos into the three hunger-based categories writers regularly fall into.

The Too Hungry Writer

Too Hungry Writers want everything yesterday, largely because they feel constantly behind. They work tirelessly on their projects, giving up time with family and friends to meet word count or revision goals. Ask them to take a break from their projects, or set a completed draft aside, and watch their eyes narrow as they mentally knock you out. How can they quit when their books must be done by a certain date (like a milestone birthday)?

While Too Hungry Authors are fierce writers with a killer work ethic, they often snack on scarcity, which feeds them lies about how there’s not enough time, or they’ll be worthy when their book gets picked up, or if they land an agent and Big Five deal.

But overwork gives them tired eyes. Muscling through revisions on manuscripts that haven’t rested will cause those tired eyes to gloss over problems. Sprinkle in impatience and a tinge of burnout and they’ll send their projects out before they’re ready.

What starts out as pre-submission optimism soon sours as the rejections pour in. Having worked hard, these external nos feel like personal failures, which leads to more scarcity thinking, which can make a Too Hungry Author ravenous.

Fortunately, you can address what you can identify, and the fixes for this problem are simple. First, make this your mantra: you and your project are on time. Repeat it to yourself until you believe it. If you can’t shake your doubts, think about the authors who raced to publish in 2020 thinking it would be their year, and the relief many experienced when their books weren’t published.

Once you’ve committed to slowing down, let projects you’ve worked on intensely rest for at least a couple of weeks, but better yet, a few months. Spend time with family and friends. Go on a vacation. Write something else. During that project’s fallow period, take a few classes to inspire you and help you see your work in a new way.

I know this will be especially hard for the Too Hungry Authors who either crawled their way out of the next category or fear falling into it.

The Writer Who Fails to Eat

Writers Who Fail to Eat put everyone else’s needs ahead of their own. They want to write, but they fear that it’s too self-indulgent—or selfish—when so many other things need to be done. Some fear not being seen as productive. Others worry their efforts aren’t valuable if they’re not income producers.

So, they focus on other people’s crises, try to do everything, and overbook themselves so much there’s no time for their writing projects. A portion of these writers complain about their lack of time, but others are baffled by their lack of progress, because it seems like all they do is focus on their writing.

Take the writer who signs up for countless classes or participates in five writing groups. They give insightful feedback, tirelessly support their writing communities, and have the best book recommendations. But ask them how much time they’ve spent on their latest draft, or how much they’ve gotten done, and the answer is usually not much.

The more you prioritize others, whether it’s your clients, paid work, children, or writing group members, the more you reinforce the belief that your passions aren’t worthy of pursuing, and you’re not a person who gets things done.

The antidote is simple. Create a small writing goal (like fifteen minutes, three days a week), schedule it, and make it as regular as your bowel movements. Yes, this might mean letting something go or asking for help, but those precious few minutes will make the rest of your day more meaningful. If caregiver guilt gets in your way, ask yourself the following questions:

How do you feel and behave when you make time for your writing?How do you feel and behave when you don’t?Which version represents the self you want to share with others?The Author Who Doesn’t Realize They’re Full 

The final way we sabotage ourselves is by failing to recognize when we’re full. Some members of this group are also Too Hungry Writers, but others are enthusiastic newbies who just want to find their writing rhythm. Many are struggling because they’re trying to write through major life transitions—like births, deaths, or promotions—and have bought into the myth that writers always write. Others are poking at emotionally fraught material. Either way, they’re depleted, and while they think they should persevere, a big part of them doesn’t want to.

When a part of us wants to stop because we either don’t have the energy to write or we’re trying to work on something we’re not ready for, the unconscious mind will stop us. Sometimes this arises as the form of writer’s block where we blank out or try to avoid the page, but for others it can be illness.

To unblock yourself, recognize that writing lives ebb and flow based on how much time and energy we have. When we’re lacking these key ingredients, we’re in an ebb and need to focus on what’s missing. As you do this, remind yourself that the best writing comes from an expansive place—that means giving yourself time to rest, reset, or heal, if that’s required. But you don’t have to let your writing life languish. If a break is in order, determine its length, schedule your return date, then ask friends to hold you accountable. This will not only feed your internal yes, it will help you craft projects that earn the external yeses you’re hoping for.

Note from Jane: If you like this post, sign up for Lisa’s free Writing Your Resiliency newsletter and receive inspiration, tips, and tricks to help you thrive rather than just survive the writing process. As a thank you, you’ll receive a free copy of Write More, Fret Less: 5 Brain Hacks That Will Supercharge Your Creativity, Productivity, and Confidence.

When Do You Need an Author Website?

Photo by Hal Gatewood on Unsplash

Today’s post is by writer and literary consultant Grace Bialecki (@GraceBialecki).

A few weeks ago, I was catching up with one of my writer friends. We became close when our novels were published by the same micro-press. Their marketing was non-existent (more on that later), and an interview I’d done with her after its release was one of its few pieces of publicity.

But she wasn’t bemoaning non-existent sales. In fact, she primarily works as a translator, and she’d recently been nominated as a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award in Translation. “Congratulations,” I said. “Put that on your website.”

“I don’t have one,” she replied. “Sometimes I post stuff on Facebook. Do you think anyone reads it?”

My inner marketer flung up her hands in horror. Target audience. Ideal reader. Building your list. Establishing authority. My friend was spurning these tenets to a writing career? But my inner artist was impressed. Damn, you can get this far without a website?

Now that I thought about it, her email signature had no hyperlinks, no cute icons, or cursive flourishes. But I’d been reading her next project, a thrillingly experimental memoir, and told her she had to have a website before she sent it to agents. She agreed that when she finished the manuscript, it would finally be time for one.

How long can you go?

My friend has been working in the writing industry for decades. She’s an acclaimed translator who supports her family with her work. And let’s say it one more time—she doesn’t have a website. Yes, she’s often paid by the project, not in royalties, but she also has her novel and future writing projects to think of. However, it has never been imperative to her success to have her work compiled on a website.

All of us humans, and especially us writers, have limited time and must decide how we spend it. As intimidating as it can be to leave the website field blank on QueryTracker, would you rather have poured all your precious resources into the query and manuscript? Or siphoned that energy into cobbling together a website?

Later, there might be a clear directive. Say you’re self-publishing your work and need a platform to connect readers with your books. Or your book has been traditionally published, and now a marketing team is telling you to make an author website. Depending where you are in your career, you may oscillate between writing and the business of being a writer. Unless, of course…

You truly want a website

My author website came at the inception of my literary career. A decade ago, I started reciting poetry at an open mic my friend ran out of his bookstore-apartment in Manhattan. At the time, I was working at a hectic start-up and composing poems in my head on my bike commute. Sometimes, I would even finish them on the subway ride to the poetry salon.

At the end of the night, as us poets got drunk enough to mingle, occasionally someone would ask where they could read my work. The answer was nowhere. I didn’t have time to submit to lit mags, much less find one who would publish my angsty bike poems.

There was a fairly easy solution to this problem, and one that I was eager to explore. I signed up for Squarespace, created a three-page website, typed up my poems on my typewriter, and posted them there. I chose Squarespace because they were hip, and we worked with them at my desk job. Also, my brother is a computer programmer, so I had a 24/7 tech support, plus he could do custom coding and make my site subtly pretty.

My inner artist has a strong sense of aesthetics so the design aspect was important. Though mostly, I loved the independence of knowing that I could guarantee my poems a place on the internet. For the first few years, I didn’t check website traffic and had no traditionally published work to link to. Yet as my writing career has evolved, so has my site.

Note: Besides the annual subscription, I didn’t invest any money into my website until its eighth year when I hired a photographer for headshots and product photos. Also note: I wasn’t paying myself or my brother for the hours we spent maintaining and beautifying it. If you’re not ready to invest the time or money (or you don’t have a nerdy family), consider these other options.

Expand your definition of website

An author website has the benefit of being an online storefront—a multifunctional space where you can sell books, compile your publications, write blog posts, and build your mailing list. However, there are other simpler and cheaper places to have a web presence where you can do much of this. One caveat is that you’ll have less autonomy, especially when it comes to building an email list, and in a worst-case scenario, could lose access or data if your account is compromised.

Here’s a short list of website alternatives:

Carrd: A quick, one-page site that’s mainly your bio and social media links.Substack: The lit community’s seemingly new favorite newsletter service with archives and paid subscriptions.Patreon: A storefront to sell any self-published work, share writing, and receive donations from subscribers.LinkedIn & Facebook: Your profile page can serve as a compilation of your publications, and you can connect with other writers.Instagram, Twitter & TikTok: The classic platforms for photos, videos, and blurbs promoting your writing and any other endeavors or updates.Linktree: a single page to list your latest links. Works well when paired with other social media.

My guess is if you’re vying for a book deal, having thousands of followers on a social platform is more appealing than maintaining a glitchy website. Or, if you’re like me and my friend, and you’re published by a press that doesn’t do marketing, having any platform will help in selling your book.

Find your why & check inside

Before you start cropping profile pictures and twittering away, take a moment to find your why. In these moments of introspection, I often turn to journaling, walking, sitting quietly, or communing with a pet.

When I first made my website, I didn’t do any of that. My why was already clear: I wanted a place where I could share my writing. Eight years later, I’ve added links to published pieces, workshops, and resources, and my why has shifted. Now it’s to have an internet storefront which represents my writing, offerings, and helps others. It’s my way of joining the writers on the block and promising to sweep my section of the sidewalk.

Once you have your why, do another check inside. What’s the easiest way to start working toward this inner reason? And does the thought of creating what will get you there spark joy? Or is there a heavy dread that you’ll never figure this out?

Listen to your body’s reaction as you consider your options and choose one that doesn’t evoke hopelessness. Be as realistic as possible about the time, energy, and money you’re capable of investing into this endeavor. This planning and reflection will help your site’s longevity and let it be a project you sustain, rather than discard like a half-baked draft.

We can’t have it all

As I wander the rabbit warren of the internet, amidst the lush writers’ sites, I find arid, abandoned ones. The contact pages are blank, links don’t work, or there’s a lone mention of a novel published years ago. A website is a virtual garden—it requires maintenance, pruning, and consistent care. Yes, we all want to be authors with exquisitely crafted novels, flawless headshots, all the followers, and a pristine website to pull it together. It’s up to you do decide what you have time for and prioritize that on your writing path.

I hope this has been helpful as you consider your options. And I would love to hear from other writers–when did you decide to start to build an author site? And what’s your why for having a web presence?

Additional reading suggested by Jane (biased toward having a site):

Why You Should Start Promoting Your Writing Before You’re “Ready”How to Build an Author Website: Getting Started GuideWhat’s More Important: Author Websites or Social Media?

When Your Characters Speak a Language Other Than English

Today’s post is by author Jyotsna Sreenivasan (@Jyotsna_Sree).

You’re writing in English, but your characters speak a different language. How do you express their words?

Here is what not to do: Do not have them speak in broken, stilted, or awkward English to indicate that they are really conversing in another language.

The most egregious example that I have seen of what not to do is in a book called The Hundred-Foot Journey by Richard Morais, which is about an Indian family who flees Bombay and ends up in France, where they open an Indian restaurant 100 feet from a respected French restaurant with an upwardly mobile proprietor. First published in 2010, this book was favorably reviewed by many outlets and adapted into a 2014 movie.

In the book, sometimes the Indian family members speak to each other in natural-sounding English, and other times in broken English. Here is an example from page 9, where the father and son are watching guests arrive at the wedding of a rich man’s daughter.

“He a billionaire,” Papa whispered. “Make his money in petrochemicals and telecommunications. Look, look at that woman’s emeralds. Aiiee. Size of plums.”

Later, on that same page, the father, still speaking to his son, says in more natural-sounding English:

“Listen to me, Hassan,” he roared over the traffic. “One day the Haji name will be known far and wide, and no one will remember that rooster.”

I assume the father and son are speaking a native Indian language throughout this conversation, and it is unclear why sometimes their conversation is in broken English, and sometimes in natural-sounding English.

On page 20, the family is discussing a recipe that’s not working in their restaurant:

“What’s this? This not like I taught you.”

“Wah?” said Bappu. “Last time you tell me to change. Add more star seed. Add more vanilla pod. Do this, do dat. And now you say it not like you teach me? How can I cook here with you changing mind all the time? Make me mad, all this knockabout. Maybe I go work for Joshi—”

“Aiiee,” screamed my furious grandmother. “Threaten me? I make you what you are today and you tell me you go work for that man? I throw everyone of your family to the street—”

The book includes many more cringe-worthy examples of the Indian characters speaking in this odd, broken English—not like any English I’ve ever heard a person from India speak.

When your characters speak a language other than English, you might think that you need to present their conversations using the word choice and sentence construction of a new speaker of English—how that speaker might sound if they were to speak English. But this would be a mistake. They are not speaking in English. Perhaps they don’t even know English.

Think of yourself as a translator or an interpreter. When translating from a language other than English, the translator or interpreter strives to be true to the literal and figurative meaning and mood of the original while converting the words into natural-sounding, idiomatic English. You will be doing the same with your characters.  To further complicate things, you might have characters who speak in multiple languages during the course of a story or novel. Maybe they speak in English with some people, and in a different language with other people.

Vikram Seth navigates a multiplicity of languages beautifully in his novel A Suitable Boy, which begins at the wedding of Savita and Pran. About six pages into the novel, we learn that some characters have been speaking in English, while others have been speaking in Hindi. The author tells us so: “His conversation with his father had been in Hindi, hers with her mother in English” (page 8). But both conversations have been written in natural-sounding English. Here is Lata’s conversation (in English) with her mother on page 3:

“Now, now, Ma, you can’t cry on Savita’s wedding day,” said Lata, putting her arm gently but not very concernedly around her mother’s shoulder.

“If He had been here, I could have worn the tissue-patola sari I wore for my own wedding,” sighed Mrs. Rupa Mehra. “But it is too rich for a widow to wear.”

“Ma!” said Lata, a little exasperated at the emotional capital her mother insisted on making out of every possible circumstance. “People are looking at you. They want to congratulate you, and they’ll think it very odd if they see you crying in this way.”

One of the things I love about this passage is that while both characters are speaking English, the mother’s English is a bit more formal (not using contractions, for example), while the college-student daughter’s English is a bit more casual.

 A few pages later (page 7) we read Maan’s conversation (in Hindi) with his father, who is speaking of a bride he has chosen for Maan:

“So that’s all fixed up,” continued his father. “Don’t tell me later that I didn’t warn you. And don’t get that weak-willed woman, your mother, to change her mind and come telling me that you aren’t yet ready to take on the responsibilities of a man.”

“No, Baoji,” said Maan, getting the drift of things and looking a trifle glum.

Although the characters are speaking in Hindi, the conversation is in natural-sounding English.

Should you mention what language your characters are speaking? Yes, if you think it will help readers understand the characters and their milieu. Vikram Seth tells us. And so does Jhumpa Lahiri, in her poignant, lovely story “The Third and Final Continent” (the last story in her collection The Interpreter of Maladies).

The main character in Lahiri’s story is a young man who has recently arrived in the U.S. He is fluent in English but speaks in a formal, stilted way in that language. Here is a conversation with his elderly landlady’s daughter (page 185):

“I come once a week to bring Mother groceries. Has she sent you packing yet?”

“It is very well, madame.”

“Some of the boys run screaming. But I think she likes you. You’re the first boarder she’s ever referred to as a gentleman.”

“Not at all, madame.”

She looked at me, noticing my bare feet (I still felt strange wearing shoes indoors, and always removed them before entering my room). “Are you new to Boston?”

“New to America, madame.”

“From?” She raised her eyebrows.

“I am from Calcutta, India.”

The new immigrant’s English contrasts with Helen’s English, who is a native speaker. Later, when his wife arrives at the airport to join him in the United States, the main character mentions speaking in his native language (page 191):

Instead I asked her, speaking Bengali for the first time in America, if she was hungry.

She hesitated, then nodded yes.

I told her I had prepared some egg curry at home. “What did they give you to eat on the plane?”

“I didn’t eat.”

“All the way from Calcutta?”

“The menu said oxtail soup.”

“But surely there were other items.”

“The thought of eating an ox’s tail made me lose my appetite.”

In this passage, Lahiri translates the Bengali into quick-paced, natural-sounding English. We can hear the characters toss these lines back and forth as they make their way to the home they will share.

In addition to conversations, a fiction writer has to think about the character’s inner thoughts. A character probably thinks fluently in their native language, even if they are struggling to speak English, so you as the writer must make your language reflect this difference. I assume that in Lahiri’s story, the main character thinks to himself in Bengali. He tells the story in the first person, and his narration is rendered in clear, educated, natural-sounding English. Here are the first few sentences of the story (page 173):

I left India in 1964 with a certificate in commerce and the equivalent, in those days, of ten dollars to my name. For three weeks I sailed on the SS Roma, an Italian cargo vessel, in a third-class cabin next to the ship’s engine, across the Arabian Sea, the Red Sea, the Mediterranean, and finally to England.

The main character’s voice when narrating is different than his voice when he speaks English, as well as his voice when speaking Bengali. If he were to narrate the story in the same formal, stilted English in which he speaks, we would get a very different impression of him as a character. He would be the object of a joke. Instead, we are treated to the voice of an intelligent, thoughtful man making his way from one continent to another, striving, as we all are, to live the very best life he can.

When writing characters who do not speak English, it can be helpful to be familiar with the language they are speaking. That way, you can use certain sentence constructions or ways of speaking that are common to that language even when translating the dialogue into English. For example, in Kannada (the language that my parents speak), I notice a liberal use of rhetorical questions. When I imagine characters speaking in this language, the way I write conversation or inner thoughts in English will naturally include rhetorical questions. In “Mirror” (included in my collection These Americans), a new immigrant mother is narrating the story in first person. After admiring herself in the mirror, she feels ashamed. “Who did I think I was? A princess or something?” (page 2).

No matter what language our characters are speaking, writers should strive to express dialogue and inner thoughts in a way that reflects the language of the character. If they’re speaking English, and they speak in dialect or don’t know the language well, then yes, you are allowed to render their English the way they really speak it. But if they are speaking or thinking in their native language, please take the time to accurately translate their language into fluent English, since they are of course fluent in their native tongue.

How to Develop a Complex Protagonist

Photo by Mark F. Griffin

Today’s post is by author and editor Ken Brosky (@Grendelguy).

It shouldn’t come as any surprise that the protagonist of your story needs to be interesting and fully developed. We’ve all heard this a thousand times before. It’s why you can find dozens and dozens of character questionnaires around the internet. What does your protagonist like to eat? What are their fears? What time do they go to bed at night?

All these things are good to know. But when you’re ready to plot out your story, I’d recommend zeroing in on a few specific things that are less focused on how interesting your protagonist is, and more focused on how complex your protagonist is. This complexity will drive the plot into far deeper places than your protagonist’s lunch preferences.

1. What does your protagonist want?

If it’s a murder mystery, the answer to this one is probably pretty simple: your protagonist wants to solve the murder. This desire to accomplish something will drive your protagonist to get to the end of the story. It gives your protagonist agency, which is crucial. Many weak stories have protagonists who are simply ushered from scene to scene rather than taking any control over their situation (imagine a horror movie where everyone is literally just fleeing from the killer, or a disaster movie where half the scenes involve people running away from calamity!). Your protagonist must want to accomplish something.

2. What does your protagonist need?

This is a different beast altogether. This is where things get deep for your protagonist. Something is missing. Something they don’t fully see just yet. Your protagonist wants to accomplish something … but in order to accomplish it, they need to change in some meaningful way over the course of the story. If your protagonist starts out as an immature person, they can’t get what they want until they realize this and become mature. If your protagonist starts the story as an alcoholic and they need to get sober, then they can’t accomplish their goal without first achieving this. My favorite example of this is Star Wars. Luke Skywalker wants to take down Darth Vader and the Empire, but in order to do this, he needs to understand what it means to be a Jedi (in other words, he needs to mature and acquire wisdom over his journey). This is why, in The Empire Strikes Back, it was so important for Luke to fail: he got the chance to face Darth Vader, but he hadn’t yet accomplished his need. Luke hadn’t yet matured into a Jedi.

3. What external forces are pushing back?

Your protagonist will always only be as interesting as the forces of antagonism allow them to be. This means that if you throw a bunch of easy challenges at your protagonist, the reader will grow bored and lose interest. The external forces are the obstacles that become more and more difficult as the story progresses. This is why writers often imagine a plot outline as an upside-down V: because we want our protagonist to face steeper and steeper challenges. These external forces will test them and give readers an opportunity to empathize.

4. What internal forces are pushing back?

In Return of the Jedi, Luke Skywalker must face Darth Vader again. As if that external threat isn’t enough, Luke faces an internal dilemma: he now knows that Darth Vader is his father. He doesn’t believe he can kill his father, and he’s conflicted. This internal conflict is what drives the emotional arc of the third act. Luke Skywalker doesn’t want to face Darth Vader again, but he’s matured and knows that he needs to. Audiences become emotionally invested in the outcome. Your protagonist should also feel internal conflict as they move through the story. And I know that can be a difficult step to imagine! So here are a couple questions to think about as you develop your protagonist:

What hidden faults does your protagonist have? As the writer, you know this person more than they know themself. Use this to identify faults that you can expose in the story.What hidden strengths does your protagonist have? This can be just as crucial to understand. Over the course of a story, you use external conflict to draw out your protagonist’s hidden strengths.

And there you have it! With these four elements, you’ll be able to create a more complex protagonist and a more interesting story.

Are You Sure You Don’t Have an Author Platform?

Today’s post is by author and educator Lena Nelson, author of America’s Youngest Ambassador.

In spring 2017, after learning that an aspiring nonfiction author would need a book proposal to find a publisher, I enrolled in a two-Saturday proposal writing class at UCLA Extension Writers’ Program. After my first 8-hour Saturday that included group discussions and exercises on “who, what, and why,” I realized that I had no answer to the question that is part of every book proposal: “Why am I the best person to write this book?”

Eight years ago, when I started work on America’s Youngest Ambassador: The Cold War Story of Samantha Smith’s Lasting Message of Peace (Down East Books, 2023), I had no idea how to go about writing it. It was the Cold War tale of Samantha Smith, the ten-year-old American schoolgirl who, in the fall of 1982, wrote a letter to the Soviet leader expressing her fear of nuclear war.

This story had been part of my life since I was a child growing up in the former USSR. Samantha’s historic journey to the Soviet Union helped transform the hearts and minds of two nations on a collision course. In 1985, I learned that Samantha and her father were killed in a plane crash in Maine. So I started a scrapbook about her, the first American I’d ever seen. Thirty some years later, the scrapbook became the basis for the www.SamanthaSmith.info, a website I developed in her memory.

In 2013, Samantha’s mother, Jane, who by then had come to support my efforts, suggested that I write a book about her daughter. “You would be a perfect person to do it—you have the perspectives of both sides!” she told me. I was touched but didn’t take her suggestion too seriously at first. Not an official Cold War scholar, I was essentially just a citizen historian who assembled an extensive archive about this slice of Cold War history. I was really hoping that someone else with more expertise would use my website’s archive to write a book.

A couple more years went by, and while several scholarly articles were in the works, no one had shown interest in writing a book-length manuscript. So, I signed up for some creative nonfiction classes and had several chapters in drafts of various stages when I learned that I needed a book proposal before submitting to the publishers. On that first Saturday, when it was my turn to tell my classmates why I was the best person to write this book, I said that I didn’t really have an answer. I didn’t think I qualified just because I grew up in the Soviet Union, kept a scrapbook about Samantha (not unlike many other Soviet children of my generation), and then created a website about her and met her mother.

My professor had an answer that I didn’t anticipate: access. Somehow, I had failed to see it on my own. I was so preoccupied with the crusade of bringing this story its much overdue credit that I never paused to take an inventory of what that meant for my author platform. Since 2005, whenever someone searched “Samantha Smith,” they’d come to my website or the YouTube channel. If they had questions about the girl known as America’s Youngest Ambassador, their email would land in my inbox. I had responded to every scholarly and media inquiry about Samantha, assisted with interviews and articles, helped organize a photo exhibit in Samantha’s home state of Maine, and regularly answered emails from schoolchildren needing help with their National History Day Contest projects. I recognized locations of the photographs taken decades ago and could navigate my archive down to the very quote someone needed. “You’re a part of the story now,” Jane encouraged me.

Suddenly, I was seeing that by researching and documenting Samantha’s story for so many years, and meeting and working with Jane, I had carved out my own place in relation to it. I knew I had a great story to tell, but I simply didn’t take the time to appreciate the work I had put into my website and the relationships I had built in the process of unearthing and preserving the story.

When I started making a list of my accomplishments, I put down my website and the YouTube channel, plus noted the links to the Smithsonian article I was interviewed for alongside several others—and the op-ed I had written in 2013 for which I interviewed President Gorbachev on the thirtieth anniversary of Samantha’s trip to the Soviet Union.

I slowly realized that while I didn’t have a celebrity-size platform (or following), I did have enough of an author platform to get the publisher’s interest. And of course, I didn’t forget to mention being a former Soviet child and the fact that I worked with Samantha’s mother.

Finally, the fact that I did have something to write in that About the Author section not only inspired me to continue but gave me a certain degree of faith that maybe I was the person to tackle this after all. Now that my book is about to be released, I now see that a citizen historian writing about a citizen diplomat might be quite fitting, indeed.

The Right Way to Ask a Published Writer for Publishing Advice

Today’s post is by author and journalist Elisa Bernick.

Many years ago, I was at a book launch for a writer I didn’t know for a book I hadn’t bought. A mutual friend urged me to approach this writer with a question about how to publish the book I was working on. I hesitated for all the right reasons: I didn’t know this writer, why would he share this precious information with me? Was this the right venue and moment? I barely knew what questions to ask. Etc. Etc.

But my friend insisted he was a nice guy who wouldn’t mind a few questions. So, I walked up to him and asked if he had any pointers to offer on the publishing journey. I swear I saw smoke coming out of his ears. He was incensed that I would ask him this question on his big day, and he curled his lip in disdain and stalked away. 

I felt about three inches high. How dare I—a complete stranger and newbie writer—have the audacity to ask him for advice about something that probably took him years of rejections and hard work to achieve, and I wanted him to spill the secrets of his success in a sentence or two? (At his launch? Yikes!)

All these years later, having published two books and many articles, I still cringe at the memory. But equally distressing is that I often feel the same way when newbie writers ask me for advice. I hate that I feel this way because I want to be a resource for writers even though (and probably because) that writer was not a resource for me.

The publishing journey is hard. There are many dues to pay along the way in terms of the number of drafts written, the number of rejections received, the odds against a writer getting published and the even greater odds against a published writer making any real money from their books. When a newbie writer (and a complete stranger) blithely asks me to sum up all that hard work and tie it up with a bow, I feel tempted to do exactly what that writer did years ago.

To save you from an equally cringy fate, here are some tips on what to do before approaching me or another published writer with questions about how to get your book published.

Be a serious writer who understands the drafting process. Please don’t approach me (or have a friend “connect” us) until you have written several drafts of your book. Bonus points if you’ve had beta readers or an editor look your manuscript over. That gives me a sense you have the persistence and intentionality at the book-writing stage that’s required for the publishing journey.

Ask specific rather than general questions. This makes our conversation valuable and efficient. General questions get general answers, which are not very helpful. Specific questions mean you’ve put some thought into this process and have already taken the time to research the publishing industry, which assures me you’re not expecting me to give you book-length answers about things readily available online and in books.

Have a concrete sense of your publishing journey. Before reaching out, please write a book proposal (Jane’s got a great free template you can use for nonfiction books!). This will give you a better sense of your publishing goals, and it will give me a better sense of how to help you reach them. This document will be the basis of our conversation, and it will allow us to get into the nitty-gritty details of publishing (such as how to effectively research small and academic publishers to exponentially increase your odds of getting your manuscript read).

Have a little background on me and my book. If you’re writing fiction, please don’t approach me—approach a fiction writer. If you want to be published by one of the Big Five, approach a writer who has been published by a large publisher. I write nonfiction and memoir. My books were published by a small publisher and an academic publisher. I can offer specific information about my own publishing journey and its tradeoffs (going with a small or academic publisher keeps your books in print for a long time, which can potentially make up for a small or non-existent advance). But I will have only general information about working with a larger publisher.

Do me a solid and buy my book. There are rarely shortcuts in publishing. Writing a book is an art form but selling that book is business. It’s important to be strategic from the get-go and understand that publishing is transactional—not only in terms of money but in feedback and camaraderie. If you want me to be interested in your publishing journey, please take an interest in mine. Buying my (or another published writer’s) book before asking them for advice is both a strategic move and, more importantly, a respectful thing to do. Buy my book, tell me what you think of it, and then let’s chat.

I really do want to be a resource for other writers, just as I wish that writer long ago had been a resource for me. If only I’d bought his book and asked him to sign it, and if only he’d taken a moment to say, “Actually, this isn’t the best time to chat, but I’ve got some pointers on my website.” And if only I’d done the research and found suggestions like the ones I’m offering here, my publishing journey might have been just a little bit easier (without that awful cringing).

To Set Beta Reader Expectations, Have an Honest Conversation

Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán

Ask the Editor is a column for your questions about the editing process and editors themselves. It also features first-page critiques. Want to be considered? Submit your question or submit your pages.

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by Book Pipeline. The 2023 Book Pipeline Unpublished contest awards $20,000 for unpublished manuscripts across 8 categories of fiction and nonfiction. Over the past year, multiple authors have signed with top lit agents and gotten published. Register by May 25.

Question

Are there specific guidelines for beta readers? I recently agreed to be one for a writer who had not even tried to spell check let alone address structural issues. My understanding is that a beta reader should be given the manuscript just before it is revised to go to the agent or publisher?

—Beta Reader

Dear Beta Reader,

Beta readers are the angels of the literary world, but as your question points out, serving as someone’s beta reader doesn’t mean agreeing to read whatever a writer throws at you. It’s okay to set some expectations.

While you can Google tips for working with beta readers and beta reader etiquette, the relationship between author and reader often varies based on what role you’re playing in the manuscript’s development.

There are three primary types of beta readers.

1. Readers from your target audience who enjoy stories about specific topics or from specific genres. Their main job is to share what they liked, what’s not working for them, and whether they’d buy the author’s book. It’s possible to ask these readers for specific feedback on issues like world building or character development, but it’s important to remember that these beta readers aren’t editors and they’re not expected to play one. Some readers are paid for their work, but most are not.

2. Sensitivity readers and subject-matter experts are skilled readers who are always paid for their work. Authors hire sensitivity readers when they need feedback on specific aspects of their projects, such as making sure BIPOC or LGBTQIA+ characters aren’t falling into stereotypes or serving token roles. Subject matter experts will confirm whether what you’ve written about quantum physics, or a surgical procedure, is accurate and believable. It’s best to engage these readers just prior to querying or publishing a manuscript. That means it’s gone through all the stages of the writing process, from drafting and revising to proofreading.

3. A third type of beta reader is the writing friend. These are often people authors know through critique groups, classes, conferences, or online communities, though the best readers are people who’ve never read the author’s work. Often writer friends will perform this task for each other at no cost.

Writers who serve as beta readers often read work that runs the gamut, but the best time to serve in this role is after several drafts have been completed—one to get words on a page, one or two to arrange them into what looks like a story, and a few additional ones to address issues like pacing, time management, or character development. Feedback from these readers is likely to be more substantial than what you’d receive from a target-audience or sensitivity reader but won’t be as specific or solutions focused as what you might get from an editor.

Once you know what kind of reader you are, have a conversation with the author to see if you’re a good match. Doing this is essential, because many authors have a poor sense of how far along their manuscripts actually are. While it’s clear you’ve already agreed to serve as someone’s beta reader, that doesn’t mean you can’t go back and have this conversation. In fact, doing so could be a gift to you and the author—especially if the errors you’ve encountered have dampened your enthusiasm for their work.

Before you agree to beta read, ask for a one-page synopsis of the book and the author’s deadline for receiving feedback. If the deadline doesn’t work with your schedule or the premise doesn’t speak to you, respectfully decline.

Still interested? Dig a little deeper by asking how many drafts they’ve completed and what work they’ve done to support the manuscript’s development. Two red flags to look for are: new writer who hasn’t taken any classes and first draft.

If their answers suggest the work isn’t ready, tell the author you’d love to read their book after more work has been done. That’s because great beta readers have fresh eyes, which means they only read a manuscript once. Spell out what “ready” means based on your role, so they know when to contact you.

If you decide to work with an author, you can try to set some guidelines, especially if you get the sense the author hasn’t done this before or is being haphazard in their approach. For example:

The book will be submitted by X date in X format. While target audience readers typically work with print copies or PDFs, writing friends and sensitivity readers typically need the ability to offer in-text comments in MS Word, Pages, or Google Docs.The document will be double spaced, paginated, and include numbered chapters.The author’s name and title will appear in the document’s header.A comprehensive spell check and read aloud will have been completed prior to submission.

Even with these protections in place, it’s ideal to have a first chapter “trial period” as part of the process—for everyone’s benefit—so you can bow out if the work simply doesn’t resonate with you, regardless of the reason.

Usually authors ask beta readers several, specific questions about the manuscript. If this is a focused reading on something like character development, then you might know these questions in advance. For more general readings, you might receive questions later in the process, so they don’t color your perception of the story.

Early conversations and guidelines often lead to happy collaborations, but sometimes guidelines aren’t followed, you might discover the work isn’t ready, or something in the manuscript doesn’t speak to you. If that happens, it’s okay to stop reading and say you’re not the right reader for the book. It might feel awkward to do this, but it’s a blessing for both of you. Writers who know problems exist can address them, and either resubmit when the work is ready, or find someone who’s a better match. Meanwhile, you’ll maintain your enthusiasm for the writer or work.

On behalf of authors everywhere, thank you for your service. We love you. We need you. We honor and respect all you do to support us.

—Lisa Cooper Ellison

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by Book Pipeline. The 2023 Book Pipeline Unpublished contest awards $20,000 for unpublished manuscripts across 8 categories of fiction and nonfiction. Over the past year, multiple authors have signed with top lit agents and gotten published. Register by May 25th.