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The Necessity & Power of Sitting With Your Critiques

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

My second novel started on a train to Paris and had a locomotive momentum—for months, all I did was put its words down on the page. Then the expat community led me to a drop-in workshop at Shakespeare & Company. Even though I was writing daily, it’d been years since I’d received formal feedback, but a man there appreciated my edits on his novel’s opening and offered to read mine. Thrilled by our budding friendship, I sent him my chapters.

Classic mistake. He picked apart my word choice, mocked my protagonist’s motivations, and derailed my positive energy. While he could’ve delivered his feedback in a more constructive way, in hindsight, I wasn’t ready for a critique, much less at the line level. I was still in creative mode—churning out characters and plot lines—not questioning commas. As I read through his notes, I felt defensive and disheartened. This opening was the culmination of months of work, and now I wondered if my novel was worth finishing. (Spoiler alert: it always is.)

As writers, we know that critiques are an integral part of improving our work. But we rarely learn how to receive feedback or what to do after. Since that hasty share, I’ve spent years attending and leading workshops. Here are some lessons gleaned about how to receive and grow from our critiques.

Listen receptively

Receiving a critique starts with being ready to listen and admit that there’s room for improvement. Before any potential ego bruising, I’ll remind myself this is a work-in-progress, while also appreciating having produced something. Anything. Remember, even if the future of this piece is unclear, creating it has made you a better writer. And no amount of criticism can take that from you.

During the feedback, do your best to listen:

Check for signs of becoming flustered: flushed face, sweaty palms, racing heart, nervous stomach. These are your body’s way of telling you it’s in reaction mode. And those rampant emotions will overpower any insights your brain is processing. Instead of shutting down or powering through the bad news, recognize that you need to regroup.Come back to calm. The easiest way to calm your nervous system is to connect with your breath. Feel the air moving through your nostrils as you inhale and exhale. If you’re at a desk, plant your feet on the ground, put your palms flat, and close your eyes. Breathe. It’s amazing what a difference three breaths can make. Good news—if you’re workshopping in person, you can still breathe.Amidst all this, try to take notes. Memory is fallible, especially in emotional situations. Even if you’re receiving written feedback, it’s still important to jot down ideas that resonate with you. I do this in a notebook since the act of writing by hand also grounds me.

And if you’re not ready to listen, you don’t have to agree to critiques. Take my effusive father praising my first novel, then pausing. “So do you want my notes?” My reply, all smiles and hard-learned boundaries: “No thanks, no notes.”

Reflect & distill

Receiving feedback is inherently disquieting, so take time before diving into revisions. This could mean going on a walk, moving your body in any possible way, soaking in a bath, making tea, or cuddling with a pet. The goal of these activities is to get out of your head.

When you’re ready, try the following:

Write about the soul of your project. What are you hoping to convey? What themes are essential? And what are your favorite parts? Even if you don’t re-read this, simply writing your goal helps bring the piece into focus and prepare for revisions.Start to decide which critiques are useful—we all have the autonomy to sort through the criticism we receive. If feedback motivates me to keep working and gets my revision wheels turning, I know it’s worth keeping. This usually also means it’s specific, actionable, and in-line with my vision for my work.Throw out the bad. If criticism is vague, demeaning, or centered on the reader’s personal preference, it’s not useful. On an intellectual level, I’ll struggle with how to incorporate it into my work. My body might also feel tight or frustrated. Again, I’ll center myself and calm my inner defenses before deciding if it’s me or them.

Speaking of getting defensive, often critiques do cause an emotional reaction. Instead of blaming the person for their delivery or vowing to burn the next thing they write, take a moment to reflect. Is your reaction coming from a deeper insecurity? A past criticism? Sometimes the hardest critiques to swallow are the most relevant. And other times, they’re brusque and off-base. Be honest with yourself and stand by what’s important to you.

For example, in one of my recent essays, an editor wanted me to name a doctor’s credentials—was she an acupuncturist? Nutritionist? Naturopath? For me, the piece was about universal medical struggles, which meant that the doctor and the malady would remain undisclosed. I politely explained this, made other adjustments for clarity, and she was receptive to my changes.

Avoid being your own worst critic

Bad news—sometimes we’re our own worst critic. Most often, this manifests in perfectionism and writers who obsess over getting a piece “perfect.” Like unproductive feedback, perfectionism is a dead end. Obsessing about word choice or grammar in early drafts; writing and re-writing dialogue or other minor moments; and generally letting the analytical side of the brain rule can stymie creativity.

Often, these self-critiques stem from a place of dissatisfaction. A voice saying this isn’t good enough rather than how can I make it better? Be gentle. Focus on finishing the project and how you’re going to get there.

Ways to move away from perfectionism:

Don’t let yourself over-edit early drafts. Writing by hand is one way of ensuring your inner critic doesn’t take control. Or if you’re typing, remind yourself that this mediocre prose is filler and you’ll clean it up later.Focus on finishing a complete version of your project, rather than a perfectly polished one. Deadlines or accountability partners can help you get to the other side.Separate your worth from your work. Much easier said than done, but keep reminding yourself that writing and creativity are the goals. And if you’re doing that, you’re already succeeding in this difficult endeavor.

Remember, the same ego that gets defensive during critiques might need to be curbed again. Instead of striving for the perfect phrasing, trust that you’ll find it when the time is right. Maybe it’ll even come in the form of constructive feedback.

Learn to move forward

No matter how harsh the critique, I hope everyone finds a way to move forward with their project. At the same time, diving into revisions amidst emotional turmoil can be counter-productive.

Here are some ideas on moving forward:

Write a critique letter to yourself. This combines elements of your vision for the piece with positivity about what you’ve done well, before moving into ideas for revision. Try to be as specific as possible about what you’ll change and distill critiques that resonate with you into actionable edits.Get a little meta and take a moment to critique your critique process. Were the people giving feedback your ideal readers? Is it too stressful to fling open your laptop and dive into workshop after rushing your children through dinner? Remember, the platform and people you entrust with your writing is your choice.Shelve your work with a firm promise to come back. Sometimes it’s simply too soon, and writing an emotionally vulnerable piece makes us realize we’re still processing. Or sometimes life gets in the way of creative endeavors. As long as you’re being honest with yourself, and not throwing out your work, it’s okay to take a break.

As you think about future critiques, remember that a good reader is someone in your target audience who’s already amenable to your genre, subject, or style. My second novel takes place in Paris, so instead of picking apart my florid prose about the City of Lights, my readers are already onboard for descriptions of a foreign place. And if my prose gets too painfully florid, I trust them to tell me, and I trust myself to listen.

Remember your community

As writers, we’re all part of a community who have dedicated themselves to this daunting and thrilling art. When you’re giving feedback, think of supporting your peers and leaving them inspired to keep writing. Writing is challenging enough—we don’t need more discouragement, especially not from those who share our struggles.

What was some of the least helpful criticism you’ve received? And how did you learn and grow from the experience?

For more on critiques and ideas explored in this piece:

Craft and The Real World by Matthew SalessesBig Magic by Elizabeth GilbertThe Artist’s Way by Julia CameronAwakening Self-Compassion by Jack Kornfield

Nobody Knows Marketing Like Romance Authors: Q&A with Kitty Thomas

Dark and paranormal romance author Kitty Thomas discusses negative attitudes toward the romance genre (including her own before she came to love it), whether writing to a formula is as easy as all that, why she thinks sex scenes are the most difficult thing to write, the heartbreaking nature of publishing, and more.

Kitty Thomas (@kitty_thomas) writes dark stories that play with power and have unconventional happily-ever-afters. She also writes some quirky paranormal romance. She began publishing in early 2010 with her bestselling Comfort Food and is considered one of the original authors of the dark romance subgenre.

KRISTEN TSETSI: What did you like to read when you first got into book reading, and how did you veer into reading—and then writing—romance, whether paranormal or, as a few of your novels are, darker?

KITTY THOMAS: I used to love the Goosebumps books as a kid. I wanted to be RL Stine. I was a snob about romance for the longest time, even in my Goosebumps days. Even in 8th grade, romance novels weren’t “real books.” I have no idea why. I guess internalized misogyny, which is really fancy talk for… the culture disrespects it because it disrespects the feminine. I picked up on that even though nobody sat me down and told me they weren’t real books. There was just this sneering derision about them. And a lot of eye rolling around Harlequin novels.

And I certainly don’t want to crap on Harlequin novels, but romance is so much bigger than one publisher, and yet they were all lumped in together as one thing.

As a side note, I was also a snob about Buffy the Vampire Slayer (I didn’t realize it was poking fun at itself and such a smartly written show). Ultimately I became a romance author because I couldn’t find the TV remote to change the channel and got sucked in to the Buffy and Spike drama. (I think it was a rerun of season 4.) I was beyond upset that Buffy and Spike didn’t end up together. I mean it was A. Thing. with me.

So when Buffy and Spike didn’t end up together (I know, spoiler, but the show is SO old. You know, Old Yeller dies at the end, too), I ended up writing fanfic to soothe my battered soul over it. Then I realized that I actually DO like romance and that maybe the love story is all I really care about, after all. (Now romance is all I really read: paranormals, dark, romcoms, sometimes alien/sci-fi.)

So I started reading paranormal romance and then writing it. But Pauline Reage’s Story of O was what inspired Comfort Food, my first darker book. It just made me mad that all these erotic books had to moralize, and the couple couldn’t be together in the end because it was “wrong.” Screw that. When you’re an island unto yourself, who cares what society thinks?

What does paranormal romance (PNR) offer that traditional, human-on-human romance doesn’t, both to the writer and the reader?

I think PNR filled the gap for bodice rippers when those started disappearing off the shelves. Publishers decided that because of sexism bodice rippers were no longer socially acceptable. I totally love when an organization makes a blanket decision about what women shouldn’t be allowed to read because it’s sexist. Ummm, did they not pause to self-reflect and consider that maybe policing women’s fantasies and acting as though we can’t handle our own reading choices wasn’t itself sexist?

It’s not as though these books were written by and for men. They were written by and for women, and then roundly rejected by mostly male-led publishing companies.

Of course now there is dark romance, so in some ways that’s the new bodice ripper. But people still do like their vampires and werewolves.

What do you think the new trend (if that’s the right word) in romance might be? Or, maybe, what would you like it to be, if you could choose?

Well, one new trend I notice popping up is reverse harems. This is where you have a story with one heroine and multiple males. But it’s not a triangle. It’s not like she’s going to “pick one.” It’s “Why not have all of them?” And it’s not two guys and a girl. That’s menage. This is usually three or four, sometimes five males who are all in a relationship with the heroine. Though honestly I think three is the perfect number for these books. After that it starts to get unwieldy. Usually this is also a paranormal romance.

A common trope is werewolves who all share the same fated mate, though I’ve seen it done other ways. I’ve also seen it done without the paranormal element. I’ve got one called The Proposal in my dark wedding duet. The heroine has decided she’s tired of men stringing her along and wasting her time when she wants to get married and have kids, so she starts rotational dating. She’s chosen to remain celibate and just date a man harem until somebody gives her a ring.

Amazingly this actually works, but as she upgrades her man harem she doesn’t realize she’s dating three men who all know each other and have decided to just share her, like forever.

I don’t think I have to explain why this sort of thing is a fantasy for women. LOL! I trust the intelligence of your readers to work it out. Though the interesting thing is reverse harems aren’t erotica. They may have sex in them, but they are romance where by the end there is a functioning and happy polyandrous unit, so it’s not just about the sex. It’s also about the feelings.

You write “unconventional HEAs.” An article in BookRiot discusses whether a novel can be called a “romance” if it isn’t HEA (that is, if it doesn’t have a Happily Ever After ending, usually including a wedding and a pregnancy) or, at the very least, HFN (Happy For Now, which means there’s no marriage or baby). What are some unconventional HEAs?

I think there are a lot fewer “marriage and babies” romances now. Because more and more people are realizing you can be happy forever but not have babies. Or not have a wedding.

Not everybody wants the same things, and what makes an HEA is if the characters are happy in the end. As for “happy for now,” I mean, not to be morbid, but nobody lives forever, so theoretically no matter how happy the book ends, those characters would be separated by death at some point. Unless they’re vampires, but even they can be killed.

I always wonder what happens to the Disney princesses after the wedding. I’m just sayin’.

Happy or sad is just where you end the story.

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You’ve written a number of captive women, most notably in your bestselling novel Comfort Food. What is it about the captive/captor scenario that so appeals to readers?

I think it’s honestly that the world feels like it’s burning down around us and in most of these types of books you’ve basically got this rich dude giving the heroine pleasure and basically demanding she give in to her own pleasure, and he’s taking care of everything. I mean sure, she’s his captive, but she doesn’t have to worry about the rest of the big bad world. There is a real comfort in that. She only has to worry about him. Plus in dark romance he’s usually hot and insanely protective. Like, a lot of these guys will kill anyone who is a threat to her—though of course who will protect her from him? That’s the conundrum and a lot of the tension.

I think women are so shamed for their own pleasure that this is that “permission” some feel they need to get in touch with their own sexual desire. It’s so strange to me that the activity that literally keeps the species going is so shrouded with weirdness and shame. But, as I said, people are gonna people. What can you do?

When women were crowding bookstores to get copies of EL James’s Fifty Shades of Grey, the press said the books appealed to “bored housewives” (which makes the women sound silly or desperate). The Fifty Shades series was also dubbed “mommy porn,” which Jackie Collins said was a label that degraded women—and Collins herself was told by romance novelist Barbara Cartland that her writing was “ filthy and disgusting .”

There’s something about explicit (or kinky, in EL James’s case) sex in romantic fiction that invites judgment that demeans its female readers and writers, even when—as in Collins’s novels, or as in your recently-released novel Valkyrie —the female characters are presented as powerful.

You’ve been publishing in the genre in one way or another since 2008. Have you seen any changes in attitudes in that time?

I want to say yes, but not really LOL. Honestly anybody who had an issue with romance or sexy books still has it unless they read those books. People are notoriously unwilling to actually try these books they have such condescension for. There’s more than a little bit of misogyny in that. I get it if alien males with two (insert male anatomy term of choice here) or reverse harems or fated mates werewolf love is a little too adventurous for some readers, but there’s plenty of office rom-coms too. We’ll be gentle and just ease you into it.

The people who read romance may not openly admit to it because of the judgment, but they’re not going to stop reading what they love. And honestly romance is such a great genre whether it’s sweet or dark or spicy or funny or has vampires. It’s really a shame that more people don’t give it a try. There is so much amazing writing in this genre now. And it’s not just women reading it. A lot of men are secretly reading romance. I was surprised to learn just how many male readers I have. I mean I write some super hot sex so there’s that.

A writer on a website I came across recently characterizes romance as “easy to write because romance books usually follow a pretty simple formula.” I wonder how “easy” it is to write to a formula, and how “easy” it can really be to write either traditional or dark romance, considering they both incorporate sex scenes, about which you recently tweeted, “I hate writing sex scenes. They are so unnecessarily difficult.” I suppose my question is twofold: is it easy to write to a formula, and what makes sex scenes so difficult?

I challenge them to write a romance anyone would actually care to read. Romance readers are intelligent and very discerning. So the people of that website can name the time and place they want to complete this little challenge and stop running their mouths about it.

As for sex scenes, that’s the most difficult thing in the world to write in my opinion. There are only so many different ways you can describe sex, and you want to keep it fresh. Maybe it’s “comparatively” easy in the first book or two, but come talk to me after you’ve written over 30 of these “easy” books. What a jackwagon.

Also it’s not enough to just have tab A going into slot B. There has to be sexual tension and chemistry. The reader has to desperately want these two characters to get into bed. And there has to be emotional satisfaction to the joining. It’s about their feelings and emotions, not just body parts rubbing against other body parts. Even in erotica the best sex scenes have that psychological component, which is why kink is probably so popular. There’s so much psychology around that kind of trust game.

You said once upon a time, “I think our society needs to deal with the issue of ‘thought crime.’ When we’re so tied up inside we can’t even think a thought without freaking out, it’s a bad sign.”

In an article I wrote—and interviewed you for—about pen names, you explained that you decided to use a pen name in part because of your family’s religious background. Do you experience any kind of emotional or psychological push-and-pull with your decision to use a pen name, a fight between, “I should be able to attach myself to this openly because there’s nothing wrong with it” and “But society is the way it is…” ?

Not really.

I’m a pretty private person. My family knows what I write, they just don’t read it. Though I do read some of my “safe scenes” to my parents. I don’t think it would matter what genre I wrote. I could be making Giant Panda coloring books for third graders, and I would still want a division between real life me and author me.

Besides, you do sort of “become” your pen name. In a way it feels as much my real identity as anything.

Many of your books have hundreds—in some cases thousands—of reader reviews on Goodreads, and it’s generally understood that a book might get a single reader review for every 70-100 books sold. Most self-published authors (and many traditionally published authors) don’t have those numbers. Do you feel as successful as other self-published authors would probably think you are?

I really, really don’t. I’m not sure what it would take for me to feel successful, but I’m not there yet.

How did your early books get the attention they did? How did Comfort Food become your bestselling book?

Amazon algorithms were much more favorable back then. The world of ebook publishing has changed a lot since I started. Early on I was riding the wave of early adopters and people trying to load up their kindles. Now having a book or two out? It’s not impossible, but it’s unlikely to get a huge result out of the gate.

With regards to Comfort Food, I sent it to just a few book bloggers (back when that was a much bigger thing and there were several bloggers who had hundreds and hundreds of reader comments) and then they just sort of took it from there amongst themselves. I really didn’t do a lot for Comfort Food’s marketing. I had no plans at that time to even market the Kitty name much. It was just a book of my heart I had to write.

It was just luck. It was a totally new genre that didn’t exist at the time. There was no such thing as dark romance when I wrote Comfort Food. As other books in the same genre started to show up (many, but obviously not all) inspired in some way by Comfort Food, or inspired by a book that was inspired by Comfort Food, it just became a thing.

In conversation with me, you’ve said that more writers can absolutely make a decent living writing fiction, even if they think they can’t. What would it take?

I definitely think it’s possible, though it does feel like it gets harder and harder.

I think one thing it takes for most is a big backlist and marketing savvy. If you build it, they won’t come. You can write the most brilliant book in the world, but unless some lightning strikes you, you’ve got to be able to get it in front of the right readers at the right time, and that can be daunting and exhausting.

But while I think it’s really difficult, it’s not as impossible as many proclaim. Maybe I have a skewed author friend base, but I’m author friends with at least seven, and possibly more, indie romance authors literally making a million dollars or more a year. Now that’s revenue, not profit, but it’s still from selling romance novels as self-published authors. I’m nowhere near those heights, but if I personally know that many indies making that kind of money, you gotta think it can’t be that impossible to make a basic living.

But it’s definitely not overnight, and it’s a ridiculous amount of work. And this industry will break your heart. I think the better question isn’t “can it be done,” but “are you willing to deal with how hard and painful it’s going to be,” because I don’t know a single author who isn’t having some sort of behind-the-scenes crisis (well, I take that back, I do know one or two, but they are rare), even the really successful ones.

What heartbreak have you seen the industry cause?

There’s the normal “book release failure,” where an author does everything right but their readers just don’t show up for it even though they’ve cultivated a large fanbase over a long period of time. Depending on how much the book meant to the author or how much they need to eat food like a normal carbon-based life form, this can feel like a crushing betrayal. And some quit over it.

Or they’re not making enough money to pay the rent or mortgage in general. They got successful enough to make this their full-time living, and they may have to quit writing because it’s really not just a straight line up where every release gets better and better, and they’re stressed out from an endless grueling release schedule and don’t have it in them to write another book.

Or a book gets pulled from a store. Or there is a publishing issue. I recently heard of an author who was in KU [Kindle Unlimited] and her books were pirated, and now she’s in trouble for breaking contract terms even though it’s not her fault someone else is stealing from her.

The variations of insanity and heartbreak that come with this business are too numerous to name. And it isn’t just the newbie authors. Authors who have been publishing over a decade. Authors making so much money you would think they’ve “arrived.”

And that doesn’t count the personal tragedies that happen that derail an author’s career. This business is brutal, and most readers seem to think authors will just write no matter what because we “love it so much.”

We may love it, but it’s way too much work to do all that’s necessary to take it to market just for “love” (even for a romantic like a romance author). So when the financial rewards disappear, many will quit publishing. Writing isn’t a hobby for those publishing, but many even hardcore readers deep down think we could or should “get a real job” and still keep giving them books on the side. LOL. No.

There is no point at which writing and publishing becomes a pain-free affair, but there are so many authors having a crisis, on the edge of quitting, or having officially quit. So I wouldn’t envy them.

What are all the things you do to make money as a professional self-published author? I know you have a newsletter and website and social media to maintain—how often do you tend to those things? Are you responsible for your own website management and updates? Do you have a book editor? You have a graphic designer—what’s your level of involvement in that process? Etcetera.

It depends on where I am in the process of a book. There’s the writing, obviously, and editing. It can take hundreds of hours just to write a rough draft. I also hire out for cover art and teaser graphics. I bring in people for cross promotion (other authors, but also book bloggers in a book tour). I schedule and set up some paid promos like Bookbubs when I can get them, and others, like Red Feather Romance.

When I do audio I have to coordinate with the audio production people to get it cast and then, when it’s done, listen to the final proofs to approve it. Then I have to set that up with ACX [the Audible platform for independent authors].

When it’s time to release I have to set up the paperback and hardcover. For paperback I use KDP, and for hardcover I use Lightning Source [Ingram]. And then I set up the ebook on about six different platforms.

I wish I had a PA [personal assistant] but I’m not at the place where I can afford to bring someone on, or maybe I’m just a control freak. Plus I feel like the time it takes to get stuff together, is it really going to be less time if a PA does it? Maybe. I don’t know.

My original website design and setup I had a web developer do, but I do most of the updates. I do a little bit of social media daily, though I don’t know how much good that really does anymore. I send out a newsletter once a week, usually, but sometimes bi-monthly, and every day during release week where I do newsletter-exclusive giveaways.

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My cover artist and I work together on the concept, but really I prefer to give her a basic idea and let her run with it, like with the Valkyrie cover. I used to do my own interior formatting, but now I use Vellum, so it’s much faster these days.

There are also a million different ways to market a book that up until this point I haven’t had time to explore, but I’m moving away from writing to work on marketing my backlist. I may not be writing anything new for a very long time. I have a backlist of over 35 titles that really needs more marketing attention, and it doesn’t make any kind of financial sense to stay on the new release treadmill with all the stress and uncertainty of relying on the Amazon algorithms as well as enough people to buy during release week to get word of mouth going.

There aren’t enough hours available within the laws of physics to do all that one could/should do to truly promote a book and backlist and write new material and edit it and get all the stuff set up for release week. There really probably needs to be five of me. I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer, but as a career this business is incredibly involved and difficult.

I would prefer to be independently wealthy and do it as a hobby.

If a traditional publisher approached you, would you be interested in signing with one?

No. I’m not really interested in that. I don’t publish to get “picked up” by someone else. Early indie sensation Amanda Hocking got a publishing deal, and I’m not sure traditional publishing did much at all for her. I think she might have done even better if she’d just stayed indie.

The idea that every indie is waiting to be picked by a big publisher isn’t at all accurate.

Is there one thing you see a lot of self-published authors doing wrong if their expectation is to sell books, and was there something you did wrong in your years of self-publishing that you can warn others not to do?

I’m not sure I’m one to judge because I have self-sabotaged in a thousand tiny ways. But I do think a lot of new authors weirdly try to market to other authors. I get authors are also writers, but we don’t have the same vast swaths of reading time that your typical target reader has.

I also think titles and descriptions, which is something else I’m still learning and tweaking. It took me forever to really get on board with the idea that the TITLE is not the art. It’s marketing. The title, the cover, the description, and in some ways the pricing, that’s all packaging and marketing, and you can’t be a precious snowflake artist about it. (Trust me, I’ve tried.)

I have had some of the stupidest descriptions on my books if I wanted to sell them. I swear. And unfortunately I have no one to blame for them but myself. Writing that description is very different from fiction writing, and the author is usually too close to the book. It can be difficult to see it from the angle the reader sees it. But normally, at least in romance, the description needs to focus on the trope because romance readers tend to read for the trope. Is it enemies-to-lovers? Forced proximity? Baby Daddy? Menage? Grumpy/Sunshine (cynical guy and hopelessly optimistic heroine)?

On the plus side, you can always go back and edit the description. Since my books sell online I don’t change the print edition, just the copy on the retailer websites.

Not too long ago, a writer on Twitter expressed sadness that her books weren’t selling. You responded in a tweet that it probably had something to do with her book covers, which you said looked self-published. This is the kind of thing many people might think, but not say. What prompted you to be honest with her?

It was the right thing to do. What if she has a beautiful book that no one will ever know about because her cover sucks? It’s like telling someone they have broccoli in their teeth at a party. It might embarrass them, but you did them a favor. I certainly didn’t tell the author to hurt her. It was from a genuine desire for her not to be floundering around with her homemade cover not understanding why nobody wanted the book.

Readers are very sensitive to homemade-looking covers. There are a very few authors who can do their own covers, but it would be wise for most authors not to assume they are among that rare breed. And for some reason when we make a graphic ourselves we just think it looks so much better than it does. It’s like the proud child with the stick figure drawing.

You gotta remember readers aren’t your parents. They just aren’t going to stick it on the fridge and coo over your artistic brilliance. They’ll just pass. And so many indies, particularly in the romance genre, have their cover art game on. Some of the most beautiful and professional covers I’ve seen have come out of the indie romance author community. And if you’re writing romance, that’s what you’re competing with. Forget the traditionally published covers, not that those aren’t good. Some of the indies are in a whole other league these days.

Seriously, romance authors are rocking it in all areas. People could drop a little of the snobbery and learn something. Nobody knows marketing like indie romance authors. And I’m not saying me. I am by far not the best at this. If I was, I’d probably be one of those million-dollar authors. But all the really innovative marketing and best cover art and some of the most creative and beautiful stories are coming out of this genre. So respect where respect is due.

What would you say to writers who secretly want to write adult romance, but who are afraid to because they’ve been taught, in one way or another, that it’s something to be ashamed of?

Well, I mean, there are a lot of people writing this, so it’s not like you’re some weirdo loner who lives a the end of the creepy lane. There’s power in numbers, and there are definitely numbers of people writing this. It certainly won’t keep you from getting invited to parties. Besides the dirty authors have all the cool parties, anyway.

Romance novels make people happy. They have a happily ever after. Why wouldn’t a writer want to create that?

Michael Lewis (Once Again) Tells the Biggest Story in Finance

Today’s post is by SaaS copywriter Alexander Lewis (@alexander-j-lewis).

Michael Lewis hit the story of a lifetime when he published his bestselling book, The Big Short, about the 2008 subprime mortgage crisis. Looking back, Lewis seemed to be the right person at the right time and place to capture the biggest financial story of a generation.

It was the ultimate setup. Before writing The Big Short, Lewis was already regarded as a world-class storyteller. Plus, he had the advantage of coming from a career in finance. Lewis had even made a name for himself in financial journalism through his debut book, Liar’s Poker. Mix in Lewis’ southern charm and we might begin to understand how he pulled such a rich and detailed story from an otherwise tight-lipped industry.

But that’s a once-in-a-career finance story, right?

Well, not for Michael Lewis. A few months ago, during an interview with Financial News, Lewis gave his readers a small clue regarding the subject of his next book. Lewis said, “I guess it is possible it will be framed as a crypto book, but it won’t be a crypto book… It’ll be about this really unusual character.”

In recent weeks, the financial world has watched closely as one of the largest crypto exchanges, FTX, endured its public fall. The details of which—including probable fraud, a major hack and theft to the tune of $400 million, and a feud between crypto founders—are still coming to light.

The story may go down as one of the largest instances of fraud ever. And guess who is already at the heart of the story?

Creative Artists Agency announced that Michael Lewis has spent the past six months interviewing FTX founder, Sam Bankman-Fried. The news came to light when Lewis’ representatives began shopping the story around Hollywood to sell the movie rights. For now, Lewis and his team have provided only limited details about the project, but given that Lewis was working with Bankman-Fried for half a year before FTX’s fall, it’s safe to say that there’s much more to this already captivating story. 

Right time and place, once again, Mr. Lewis.

Central to most of Michael Lewis’ works are larger-than-life characters who find themselves at the center of major industry or societal shifts. As Lewis once told The Guardian, “I am not an essayist… I need characters. If I don’t have a character, I can’t find my way into a story.” Lewis seems to seek out people, rather than mere stories, which may be the real secret behind his uncanny ability to find once-in-a-career journalism material.

There has perhaps been no larger financial change since the 2008 crisis than the introduction of crypto as both a technology and an asset class. Lewis, presumably, wanted to find and tell a human story at the center of this big movement.

Lewis could not have foreseen the epic tale of controversy, hacks, and potential fraud that has transpired in recent weeks at FTX. But perhaps what Lewis did see, many months before anyone else, was a deeply human story of cutthroat competition between two opposing charismatic founders, Sam Bankman-Fried at FTX and Changpeng Zhao at the crypto exchange, Binance. All Lewis did was put himself at the center of that human story, just in time to watch FTX fall apart—and Lewis’ story fall into place.

How to Get Back to Writing

Photo by Monstera

Today’s post is by author Matthew Duffus (@DuffusMatthew).

When I finished my MFA in 2005, I didn’t write for a year. Between exhaustion from completing a readable draft of a novel on deadline and the confusion caused by having too many critical voices in my head (thanks, workshop), I didn’t know where to begin, let alone how to get to The End of something. I’d burned out on my thesis, realizing it would be my “novel in the drawer,” and had no idea what to do next. After the first few maddening weeks, I tried embracing Richard Ford’s concept of “refilling the well.” When this stopped working, I knew I needed to try something new.

Below are three steps that helped me start writing again after those long months away from the page.

1. Set a challenge

No, I don’t mean NaNoWriMo. Had I known about that event in 2005, I would have crawled into bed and not come out until December 1st. Instead, I set a reading challenge. Like many creative writing programs, mine had focused on contemporary work, so for this challenge I went back to the beginning of the English novel and read through the major writers until I was prepared to start writing again. I read Moll Flanders and Robinson Crusoe, Pamela and an abridged Clarissa. I read Tristram Shandy and… you get the point. I didn’t stop until I’d read through much of Virginia Woolf and was eager to write. But my old writerly patterns were no longer helpful. I needed fresh ideas, both for what to write and how to do it.

2. Start small

The first thing inhibiting my writing was believing I should know exactly what I wanted to do next and how to accomplish it. When I spoke to former classmates, they all seemed to have a plan for what they were working on. For me, a plan was too daunting. Having one would have meant thinking at the level of a book. I needed to focus on lower stakes, so I concentrated on something smaller, both literally and figuratively. Instead of aiming for 1,000 words per day, as I’d done in grad school, I bought a pack of three-by-five index cards and numbered the first thirty. I filled the lined side of one index card per day for the next month. By the end of that period, I had the beginnings of a longer piece that I was already dedicated to pursuing further. Call it my micro NaNoWriMo.

When I began this project, I had no idea what to write, no preconceived ideas or plot outline, so I focused on creating a strong first-person voice, index card by index card. I started with where I was in life: an apartment caretaker and struggling writer. The day before I reached for the first index card, I’d been dealing with a resident’s plumbing emergency, so I began there. Over the next few days, this voice revealed he was a failed lawyer, having never passed the bar, and was stuck in a long-term engagement with no wedding date in sight. By the end of the second week, I’d discovered his fiancée and her friends and several suitably quirky tenants. I was off and running.

3. Try a new style

Focusing on one notecard per day forced me to slow down in a way I hadn’t done when I was obsessed with hitting my word quota for the day. I made the decision to write in first person, because I figured the “I” would propel me forward and allow me to gain momentum more quickly. In the past, I’d been known for what were dismissed as “quiet” stories, so this time I decided to go loud. I channeled Laurence Sterne, from my reading challenge, and Stanley Elkin, who I’d read in a class during my MFA. I wrote long, circuitous sentences that stacked metaphor on metaphor, clause on clause, and often did not end when I ran out of space on my card. By the third week, I began staring at the blank cards on my desk, wondering if it would be okay to start a second card just this once. I resisted the urge, but that desire indicated that I was having fun writing again.

This manuscript isn’t one I’ve pursued publishing. For more than fifteen years, I’ve treated it as my fallback plan. Something about knowing it’s saved in Dropbox is reassuring. I’ve added and subtracted enough words for several novels over the years, but in the meantime, I’ve published a different novel, a collection of stories, a chapbook of poems, and many shorter works, both in print and online. But the next time I feel stuck, I know I’ll start hunting for more index cards.

Should I Hire an Editor to Help Cut My Manuscript?

Photo by Nikolaos Dimou

Ask the Editor is a column for your questions about the editing process and editors themselves. It’s a place to bring your conundrums and dilemmas and mixed feelings, no matter how big or small. Want to be considered? Learn more and submit your question.

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by Legacy Launch Pad’s Bestselling Book Bulletin. Sign up to receive a bulletin every Thursday morning that includes one answer to a publishing question, one publishing tip, one publishing resource and one bit of publishing advice.

Question

I’m a newbie writer, working on a memoir about a trip I took in 1976. It’s a tad long, and I’ve been trying to pare it down from its three million words to its most important story lines. At what point do I call in an editor for help/advice?

—Needing Help in the Pacific NW

Dear Needing Help:

Writing a long memoir draft is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, you’ve collected all the material you’ll need to write an interesting book. On the other, you’ve got to figure out what’s important.

Identifying those important moments and revising is a daunting process for all new writers, but it’s trickier for memoirists. Unlike a novelist, you can’t solve your story’s problems by making stuff up. Instead, you must find meaning in the chaotic parts of your life, a process that can feel a lot like describing your face without looking in the mirror.

Many memoirists believe an editor is the mirror they’ve been searching for. While the allure of a trained eye on your manuscript can be difficult to resist, high-quality editorial feedback is expensive. Before shopping for an editor, it’s important to know when to contact one, and how they might be able to assist you—something your Spidey senses have already alerted you to.

To help answer those questions, let’s talk about the three skillsets new writers need to develop:

ForesightStorytellingStamina

Foresight: To revise well, writers need to develop a clear vision of what’s next in both the writing and publishing processes. This will help them create a logical plan of steps to take.

Storytelling: Recording life events and telling a story are not the same thing. Even strong writers, and avid readers, must learn how to do the latter. Cultivating strong storytelling skills makes it easier to hack a million-word draft into the most meaningful chunk, then craft what’s left into a succinct, well-written story.

Stamina: I’ve only met a handful of unicorns who can complete a publishable book in less than twelve months. None were new writers. That means most of us need to figure out how we’ll sustain our enthusiasm throughout what might be a long and bumpy ride.

The best way to develop foresight is to attend workshops and conferences and engage with other writers. Most writers cultivate and hone their storytelling skills by taking classes, reading craft books and articles, and then applying what they learn to their drafts. Mission accomplished, they submit their new-and-improved manuscripts to beta readers, writing groups, and workshop-style classes for feedback. This is generally followed by more practice. Classes and writing groups are also great for building accountability, which will help with your stamina.

It’s best to take your manuscript as far as you can on your own before hiring an editor. One of the most economical strategies you can employ is letting your manuscript rest for between one to three months. While your book is in its fallow period, develop your skills and work on other projects. You’ll be surprised by what your fresh eyes see when you crack open your manuscript. Once you’ve made those cuts, you can revise even further with the help of a few beta readers.

If your manuscript is beyond 100,000 words, I encourage you to pare it down to 90,000 words or less before requesting a full manuscript evaluation. It will save you money and the disappointment of hearing that the problems discovered in early chapters are repeated throughout your book. If that word count sounds unattainable, two economical ways editors can help you include a chapter outline review or a 10-, 25-, or 50-page review of your book’s opening chapters.

Writing a chapter outline will help you see what parts of your story have the most energy and rise to the level of importance. An analysis of this outline, along with a few additional exercises, can help you shape what you’ve written into a map that looks and feels like a story. Then, you can use that map to write a slimmer, more focused draft that incorporates the storytelling skills you’ve been working on.

Short reviews are a cost-effective way to find out what’s working, what skills you already have, and which ones you need to work on. They can also help you identify pacing problems, repetition, or sentence-level issues that are bloating your word count. If you’re a new writer, most editors will be able to tell what you need from as little as ten pages. If you’ve got some experience, you can bump that up to twenty-five. If you’re experiencing word count woes, anything longer than fifty will likely lead to feedback on later pages that reads like a broken record.

To make the most of these reviews, polish what you send to the best of your ability. That doesn’t mean your work has to be perfect, but it shouldn’t read like a hot mess of pages you expect the editor to decipher.

Once you’ve received your feedback, which hopefully includes a to-do list, get back to work. If you like this editor, you can always request a longer review once you’ve strengthened, and shortened, your manuscript.

The best time for a full manuscript review is when you’re pretty sure your book is ready for publication. By this point, you will have done everything you can on your own, and you’ll have the skills needed to make the most of your editor’s feedback.

While you’re doing what you can, trust that every skill you learn, and every revision pass you make, is helping you become a better writer.

—Lisa Cooper Ellison

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by Legacy Launch Pad’s Bestselling Book Bulletin. Sign up to receive a bulletin every Thursday morning that includes one answer to a publishing question, one publishing tip, one publishing resource and one bit of publishing advice.

You Don’t Need a Platform If You Can Find an Audience

Today’s post is by author Catherine Baab-Muguira (@CatBaabMuguira).

In preparing to tell you that you don’t need a huge personal “platform” to get a publishing deal, I feel like a missionary about to knock on your front door, all aquiver with zeal and broad-shouldered with conviction. Like, Hi there, friend! Have you heard the good news?

It’s true. You don’t need some huge platform to get a publishing deal or sell books to readers. All you really need is an audience, and the even better news is, such audiences are already out there, ready-built. In a minute, I’ll show you how to find them on Facebook, Reddit, Quora, and similar.

First, let’s acknowledge why “platform” is so horrible, so awful and painful.

My theory, based on observing myself and my friends, is that writers tend to be people who simultaneously crave and fear attention, so we contrive a way to get attention under controlled conditions. People generally don’t become writers because they love being on stage, or because they’d feel at ease kicking back on the set of a talk show and chit-chatting with the shellacked host.

No. Most of us become writers because we’d be uncomfortable in such situations, yet yearn to put ourselves across, anyway. It’s why we choose the loneliest, most introverted medium. It’s also why the modern-day diktat—that, if you want to get published and have a writing career, then you must have large platform complete with zillions of social-media followers—can feel like such a sucker punch. If we were natural-born performers, we wouldn’t be writers. Right?

Still, it would be useless to fault publishers for their reluctance to take on unknown or little-known writers. The dynamic is not limited to publishers, for one. Most people seek information before making financial investments, craving evidence that the investment will profit. Likewise, most people want their bosses to be pleased with their job performance, to not hate them for making bad bets and losing the company’s money.

It’s like that old saying in sales: “No one ever got fired for buying IBM.”

It’s understandable that acquiring editors, who are after all only human, would feel most comfortable working with established brands, and in the writing business that tends to mean working with writers who are already famous, boast large social-media followings, and/or can boast of big bylines, all the social proof that comes from publishing stories in the biggest venues.

What’s more, while social-media followings don’t always equate to big sales, it remains true that writers who’ve developed huge email lists have a much better chance of hitting bestseller lists. Twitter, Facebook and Instagram followings may be red herrings for both publishers and for writers themselves, but email subscriber bases can much more reliably drive sales and preorders.

Besides, whether or not publishers are justified in caring about your platform, the fact is that they do, so why moan? You could waste 10 years of your life wishing this reality were different. Ask me how I know.

Now what if there were a reliable way you could hack a platform and address publishers’ concern that your book will make a good financial bet?

When I sold my nonfiction debut back in 2019, I had the same modest following that I do now: a few thousand on Twitter, and effectively none on Facebook, Instagram, or YouTube. The way I made my case was by focusing on my subject’s platform instead. I wanted to write a book about Edgar Allan Poe, so in my book proposal, I spent a great deal of time outlining Poe’s platform, both his online following and its physical, meat-world manifestations.

Sure, the guy has been dead for almost 200 years, and still he has 3.6 million Facebook fans—more than James Patterson or Danielle Steele. It’s a hell of a data point, and Poe has large followings on other social platforms, too.

There are 20,000-plus Poe fans gathered on Wattpad, and another 14,000 on Bookbub.Some 63,000 people follow “Edgar Allan Poe” as a topic on Quora, and there’s a subreddit dedicated to Poe which has around 4,000 people.There are the four Poe museums in the U.S., plus numerous Poe festivals and Poe associations which include both Poe scholars and everyday super-fans.

If I were a marquee-name writer with a track record of bestsellers, I wouldn’t have a bigger platform than Poe. Colleen Hoover doesn’t, at least by Facebook stats, and right now, she’s outselling the Bible.

I didn’t just use Poe’s stats to impress publishers. I put them in my query letter as well. I’ve also used them to place pitches and promotional pieces about my book, now that it’s out in the world, toddling around on its wobbly baby legs, and I’ve started writing articles about Poe’s massive following, up to and including this one.

Would you believe that editors at magazines and websites also care about reaching large numbers of readers? Shocking, I know.

Everyone at every level of the media business stands eager to tap into huge bases of existing fans. It’s the equivalent of buying IBM, so how can you make this dynamic work for you?

In short, by focusing on a massive, pre-built audience instead of on myself, I got a book deal, making all my author dreams come true. And the same path is open to you, if your subject is a topic or person of broad interest (or even, if its followers are enthusiastic enough, of niche interest).

This tip isn’t just applicable to nonfiction, either. A few weekends ago, when I was attending one of those IRL Poe festivals, I heard the novelist Lynn Cullen talk about how her book on Poe led to a huge career breakthrough, though she’d already published several well-regarded books before she wrote 2013’s Mrs. Poe.

Poe himself is just one example, one topic. There’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Composting. Guy Fieri. Greece. Pickleball. Time-travel romances. Writing itself. Et al. Search for these subjects on Facebook, Reddit, Quora, Goodreads, etc., and you’ll find their fan-bases.

So, even as you grudgingly tweet, or send TikToks into the wind, stop and think: Does your subject already have a large existing fandom? How can you quantify that fandom, using the data to impress agents, publishers, and editors? How can you make strategic connections within that fandom so that when it comes time to promote your work, you’re in position?

The beauty of this hack is so self-evident it’s blinding. The focus doesn’t have to be on little ol’ introverted you (or me). Instead, we’re able to connect with others through a shared interest, to bypass the awkward small talk and delve into a common obsession. Our missions become manageable: Instead of building up a following, we take advantage of a pre-built one. We connect with those who love our closest comp, or those who hero-worship Poe just like we do, which feels so much more natural, comfortable, right.

Pardon me if I sound evangelical. As plain and simple as this platform solution is, it’s magic in practice—a way to make the GD numbers work at last. Some secrets are just too good to keep.

How to Use a Long-Form Synopsis to Plan Your Novel

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Today’s post is by author, editor, and book coach Julie Artz (@julieartz). Download her Tent Pole Scenes Outline template (discussed below).

Years ago, author Jen Malone mentioned in an #mglitchat discussion that she sends out a rough-form synopsis to critique partners during planning stages with the expectation not that they’d heavily critique it, but that they could ask 10–12 “what if” brainstorming questions to get her creative juices flowing. I thought it was a fabulous idea, so my critique group tried it. The results were amazing—this tool is now a permanent part of my toolbox and it can be part of yours too. Here’s how.

Draft your long-form synopsis

Unlike the 500–1000 word synopsis that often goes out to agents or editors with pitch packages, this one is meant to be messy. There’s no set format, length, number of named characters, or any of the things that tend to strike fear in the hearts of writers when creating that other type of synopsis. Instead, think of this type of synopsis as a brainstorming document. It’s a dumping ground for all the things you’d like to work into your new story based on the prewriting you’ve already done on your concept and characters. It covers all the major characters, the main plot and character arcs, but also the subplots, the twists, the unexpected turns.

Step One: Put whatever you know about the story down on paper, but make sure you at least have the following:

Age category (MG, YA, adult)GenreYour “what if?” big-picture ideaProtagonist’s story goalAntagonist’s story goalProtagonist’s change arc

Step Two: Now it’s time to start to fill in the gaps and shape this into something with some story logic in it. I use the Tent Pole Scenes Outline to start my brainstorming on potential story structure. It’s based on classic fairytale structure (with a dash of Aristotle) for this. Not because I only tell fairytales, or because I think Aristotle’s three-act structure is the only way to tell a story, but because this familiar format helps me tease out my plot from all the various threads floating around in my mind.

Once Upon a Time (ordinary world)But then…moment everything changed (story problem)It was awful until (confrontation)…Then the hero figured it out (climax)…And they all lived happily ever after (resolution)

Step Three: The first draft is likely to be a total mess. And that’s OK. The point here is to capture everything you know. Now read through what you’ve written and make a list of questions you need to answer before you’re ready to send this to your writing pals for their round of “what if?” questions. Answering those questions might involve looping back to look at craft resources you have on hand around character, plot, world-building, genre and age category. That’s normal—take the time you need to really feel good about this step. Keep taking passes through the document until you’ve addressed everything from steps one and two above.

Your resulting document should be somewhere in the range of 3–7 pages. If you’ve written 20, that’s too long to share with your critique partners. Go back through and pull out extra details and store them elsewhere. You want something high-level enough that you can read it aloud during a critique group without everyone getting lost or starting to scroll Twitter.

Note: It can be tempting to send this to your pals even if you know there are plot holes. Don’t do that! Take care of all the low-hanging fruit on your own so that they can really focus on deepening the work you’ve already done.

Share your long-form synopsis

Once you’ve got a solid working draft, it’s time to share it with your critique partners or a trusted writing friend. Be clear up front that they’re only allowed to ask clarifying questions (for example, “tell me more about what you mean here,” not “don’t you think you need XYZ?”), brainstorming questions that begin with “what if” (What if that cat was really a magical jellyfish? What if that boy character was really a girl? What if the antagonist was also the love interest?), and comp title suggestions (oh, this reminds me of Goonies!).

Getting nitpicky about character names, plot points, or other details is not helpful at this stage. Set expectations up front and only share with people you trust to hold to the guidelines you’ve established. The results are bound to jump-start your creativity and take your story to places it might not have gone without this technique.

Refine your long-form synopsis, an iterative process

The long-form synopsis is a living document you’ll revisit during planning, drafting, and revising your novel. So take the feedback you get up-front and spend some time thinking it over, reading potential comp titles that weren’t on your radar, looking for ways to freshen any tropes that were identified, and otherwise filling in any logic gaps.

If you lean toward the “pantser” end of the planning scale, this may be the only planning document you complete before you start exploratory writing. If you’re more of a planner, you may move from this into a more detailed outline. I fall somewhere in between—I do a lot more detailed character work and world-building preparation before I start drafting, but I don’t go so far as to write a detailed outline. Find the approach that works for you and go with it. It may not be the same from story to story and it certainly won’t be the same from writer to writer. Take what works and add it to your toolbox.

But no matter whether you’re a planner or a pantser, hang on to your long-form synopsis and revisit it periodically as you draft. It can help you track big-picture changes you’ll inevitably make while drafting and help you plan how changes you’ve already made will affect what comes next. Then, when you get that first set of developmental edits, whether it’s from a critique partner, your agent, your book coach, or an eventual editor, you can play with making larger structural changes at the high level via your messy synopsis instead of having to spend months revising the manuscript before you know your changes are going to work. The long-form synopsis is an excellent way to communicate with whoever is on your writing team about your planned changes so that you can get their input without them having to read a full manuscript or decide deep into the process that they don’t like your approach.

Have you ever tried using a long-form synopsis to plan a novel? I’d love to hear about your experiences with this technique in the comments.

Why Prologues Get a Bad Rap

Today’s post is by editor Tiffany Yates Martin (@FoxPrintEd). Join her on Wednesday, Nov. 30, for the online class Powerful Prologues.

“Always avoid prologues!”

“Agents hate prologues.”

“Readers won’t read a prologue.”

The advice in the writerly ether concerning prologues is vast and … well, not varied. Most of it revolves around telling authors simply, “Don’t.”

Yet riffle through a handful of books on the shelf at any bookstore and you’re likely to see at least a few prologues—many of them in bestselling books and classics.

So what gives? Is there a cabal of rogue prologuers defying the injunction? A secret password certain authors get that allows them to break this inviolate commandment?

Are prologues okay or aren’t they?

As I say in my book Intuitive Editing, like sharks, snakes, or bears, prologues aren’t inherently bad; it just depends on how you encounter them. A well-drawn, well-used prologue can set a story up and even become a definitive part of it:

“Two households both alike in dignity / In fair Verona, where we lay our scene.”

These first two lines of Shakespeare’s prologue sonnet can only ever evoke the entire story of Romeo and Juliet.

“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”

Just these few words in the signature opening crawl of the Star Wars prologue can set fans’ hearts fluttering (ask my obsessed husband).

But prologues have developed their dangerous reputation because often authors fall into one of several common traps in using them that diminish their effectiveness.

Why prologues fail

Like Tolstoy’s unhappy families, each unsuccessful prologue is unsuccessful in its own way, but what they have in common is often that they are used as some form of “cheat”—shortcutting the actual work of storytelling to circumvent potential pitfalls.

This type of prologue abuse can take several forms:

The backstory dump

Authors may use a prologue as a chance to “bring the reader up to speed” on backstory they feel the reader needs to know to understand or invest in the story. This can result in a slow, backward-looking beginning that can fail to hook readers.

As an editor I often suggest that whatever backstory may be essential to set up the story or characters may be more effectively woven in as context as authors plunge readers into the present-moment main story and move the action forward.

The exciting-event preview

Often a result of the writing advice to start en medias res, this type of prologue opens right in the middle of fervid action that may or may not directly relate to where the main story starts. I call this the “Stick with me—I promise it’s going to get good!” prologue—when an author knows his first chapter may not have a strong hook and tries to make up for it by slapping something more exciting in front of it.

This can often take the form of a dramatization of some story event later referred to in the main story, something that happened in a character’s past, or even a “sneak peek” at a high-stakes scene from later in the book that the author randomly sticks at the beginning like a “coming soon” film trailer.

The bait-and-switch

In this type of prologue faux pas, readers are drawn into the story laid out in the prologue, only to start the “real” story in chapter one that seems to bear no direct connection to it. This can feel like an annoying piece of misdirection that may leave readers disconnected from the main story as they busily try to connect the dots, or simply feeling unmoored, uncertain of what the story is actually about.

The preamble/stage setter/dramatis personae

Like the description of settings or list of characters at the beginning of a play, this type of prologue mostly concerns itself with establishing something: a setting, a tone or mood, a world, a key event, a character or characters. Used unskillfully, this can result in a dry, static story opening that lacks a hook or forward momentum, and may have readers bored and putting the book down before they even get started.

The rabbit hole

The reader turns the first page of the prologue…and then another…and another…and another…and before too long they’re paging ahead to see when the story actually begins. The endless prologue risks losing reader engagement, or taking them so far down a path that may not reflect the story they thought they were reading from the description or synopsis that they give up, frustrated.

Prologues that successfully break “the rules”

What can make prologues so maddening is that many of these techniques can actually work very well, used proficiently and according to genre expectations:

The Star Wars and Romeo and Juliet openings cited above, for instance, are actually backstory dumps—but they follow prologue best practices for creating a strong hook: they’re brief, essential, and set up pivotal story stakes and conflict.Mysteries, suspense, and thriller stories often use a seeming “bait-and-switch” opening scene—for instance, a character who meets an untimely demise—to set up the central plot, like the hunt for a serial killer.Tolkien commits rampant scene setting, backstory dumping, and rabbit-holing in his Lord of the Rings prologues (he has four!) that establish the Hobbits, their pipe smoking (!!), the Shire, and the Ring, respectively—and in damned lengthy fashion.

Using a prologue effectively and well means being aware of what makes them work—and what makes them fail. It’s understanding how to make them essential, intrinsic, and give them a powerful hook and forward momentum; as well as how to meet current reader, genre, and market expectations.

A prologue can open the door to your story and entice the reader in, or throw up a barrier that delays or prevents their engagement. If you learn to use them deliberately and effectively, there’s no need to fear this potentially powerful tool for your stories.

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, join us on Wednesday, Nov. 30 for the online class Powerful Prologues.

Write a Sympathetic Villain Your Readers Will Love to Hate

Today’s post is by story and writing consultant Neil Chase.

When most people think of villains as they are writing a novel, they think of evil, heartless characters who are out to destroy or conquer the world. While these types of villains can, at times, be amusing, they can also be one-dimensional and uninteresting.

A great villain should have complex motivations and evoke sympathy from readers. Here’s how to build one.

Weave an intricate backstory.

For your story’s antagonist to be truly effective, they need to have a well-developed, and perhaps even tragic, backstory.

Just as your story’s protagonist should be more than just a one-dimensional character, your antagonist should be a fully formed individual with their own motivations, fears, and desires.

The best villainous characters have a deep, rich backstory that makes them relatable and ultimately human. Here are some ideas for interesting villain backstories:

The villain could be someone who was once a hero, but circumstances (or choices) led them down a dark path. They might be haunted by regrets for their evil actions, and their fall from grace only makes them more dangerous.The villain could be someone who was born into a life of crime. They might have never known anything else, but they’re not necessarily happy with their lot in life. There’s always the possibility of breaking free from their criminal past, but they would need someone to show them the way.Another option is for the villain to be an outsider who doesn’t fit in anywhere. They might be rejected by society and use their powers for evil as a way to get back at those who have wronged them.Finally, the villain could be motivated by something other than money or power. They could be driven by revenge, love, or even a cause they believe in. No matter their motivation, they’re sure to be a force to be reckoned with.

A great example in literature and film is Frankenstein’s Monster, a creature made up of random body parts and shunned by the world as a result. His hatred of humanity is understandable, given his tragic history and desire for little more than sympathy and companionship—both of which are denied to him at every turn.

It begs the question: who is the true villain in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, the monster or its creator?

By giving your antagonist an intricate or tragic backstory, you’ll make them more believable and give them greater depth and dimension. Also, by understanding your antagonist’s backstory, you’ll be able to better craft scenes in which they interact with your protagonist.

Give your villain a personality.

As an antagonist, your villain stands in the way of your protagonist’s goals and must be defeated for the hero to triumph. As such, you must give your villain a strong and distinctive personality. Why? Because a well-developed villain makes for a more suspenseful and engaging story.

Think about some of the most memorable villains in fiction: Hannibal Lecter, Darth Vader, Professor Moriarty, and The Wicked Witch of the West. These characters have unique motivations, histories, and quirks. By contrast, a generic and one-dimensional villain is immediately forgettable.

If you want your story to be gripping, make sure to put some thought into making your villain someone who readers will remember.

Explore the villain’s motivation.

To create a three-dimensional antagonist, one must understand their motivation.

What drives them to do evil?Are they acting out of greed, power, passion, misguided love, or revenge?Are they misunderstood by others in the story?

By exploring the backstory and psychology of your antagonist, you can craft a more nuanced and sympathetic character. For example, In Stephen King’s Misery, Annie Shaw is a woman so utterly alone that her main coping mechanism is reading the fiction of her favorite author, Paul Sheldon. So when fate brings Paul into her life through a car accident in a blizzard, she’s overjoyed to take care of him and to read his latest novel.

She loves Paul’s main character, Misery Chastain, so much that it’s both heartbreaking and understandable when she doesn’t take it well that Paul intends to kill off Misery in his latest work. Everything she does to Paul, as a result, is justified and right in her twisted mind, as it serves to save both Misery and Paul from himself.

Make them attractive in some way.

Your story’s antagonist doesn’t have to be a traditional bad guy. In fact, making them attractive in some way can make your story more interesting. Perhaps they’re physically attractive, or they have a winning personality. Maybe they’re just really good at what they do, and your protagonist can’t help but be impressed by their skills.

Whatever the case may be, giving your antagonist some redeeming qualities will make them more three-dimensional and ultimately more compelling.

A great example is Hannibal Lecter, from Thomas Harris’ The Silence of the Lambs, a cannibalistic serial killer who is thoroughly evil and yet so brilliant and charming as to gain the sympathies and trust of the story’s main character, Clarice Starling. In reality, he manipulates her to effect a prison escape, but we, as the audience, are as swayed by his manner and charms as Clarice.

Readers will be more invested in the conflict if they can see both sides of the story, and an attractive antagonist is a perfect way to achieve that.

The difference between villains and antagonists

Every story must have some sort of conflict to move the plot along. This is typically accomplished through the use of an antagonist, who works against the protagonist to create obstacles and further the story.

In many cases, this antagonist is a villain, someone who has bad intentions and is perhaps even cruel or overtly evil. However, this is not always the case.

In some stories, the antagonist may simply be a character with different goals or objectives from the protagonist. This does not make them evil, just different. And while they may cause difficulties for the story’s protagonist, they are not necessarily bad people.

Severus Snape in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone is an example of an antagonist who is not villainous. Though he makes Harry’s life difficult, he works to protect the boy from the story’s true evil.

Likewise, certain protagonists can be villains as well. For example, in American Psycho, Patrick Bateman is not only a terrifying serial killer but the main character.

Therefore, villains are not always necessarily antagonists or vice versa.

Parting advice

Show readers that the villain has been dealt a difficult hand, and they’ve had to make some tough choices along the way. Give your villain some personality, and maybe a unique physical characteristic, and enjoy the process of creating your bad guy! If you can make readers feel empathy for the villain, at least in some way, they will be far more invested in the story’s outcome.

How to Free Yourself from Endless Revision

Photo by barbourians

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

Participants in November’s National Novel Writing Month challenge are cautioned not to rush their work out the door. Indeed, it’s wise not to send the draft completed on November 30 off to agents or editors on December 1, like an overeager chef serving a partially baked cake. Typing “THE END” is just the first of many steps in getting a manuscript ready for the prime-time glare of the submission spotlight.

Plenty of writers fall to the other end of the spectrum, though. They finish a draft, then a round of self editing, a round of critique group input, another round of self-editing, a round of professional editing, a round of rewrites, a round of beta reading … and round and round and round for years. These are the chefs who tinker endlessly with the recipe, leaving the dinner guests to expire from hunger or search for another meal.

The writers who get their books into the world are those who find a middle ground. The scenarios, diagnoses, and solutions here can help if you tend toward the tinkering end of the spectrum.

Situation: A dead engine

Diagnosis: The story driver isn’t clear.

You start with a fascinating premise, interesting characters, and a vivid setting. You dive in excitedly. Then you stall, often 50 to 75 pages into a book-length work, or halfway through a shorter piece. You set the work aside for a little while, only to hit the same wall when you return to it. What’s going on?

You haven’t grasped—using whatever method works for you—the impetus that drives the story. Different methods call this driver different things: the story engine, the story spark, the story problem. What drives the story is synonymous with neither plot nor character motivation but rather represents a skillful braiding of the two. Whatever the name, it’s the story’s underlying logic, the question that keeps readers turning pages. It’s the key not only to your reader’s experience but to your experience as a writer. Will you write forward with confidence or hesitate at every junction?

Many contributors to this site have written excellent pieces on story drivers, including Tiffany Yates Martin, Angela Ackerman, Susan DeFreitas, and Heather Davis.

Solution #1: Set the work aside. Your initial inclination that you simply need time and distance for the way forward to become clear may be the necessary prescription. Sometimes returning with fresh eyes is enough, although if you find yourself writing, rewriting, and polishing Chapter One while remaining unclear about where the rest of the book is going, it’s time to try something different.

Solution #2: Shake up your brain by leaving your comfort zone. Sometimes you need an outside force to reawaken or reconnect with your creativity. The shake-up method worked for me. After five or six attempts to finish a short story whose theme, characters, and setting I felt deeply connected to, I simply couldn’t figure out where I wanted the story to land. So I used Rytr, an artificial intelligence story generator, to come up with several endings. Some were hilarious; others were absurd. But one idea sparked an inspiration that turned out to be the key to bringing the story to a satisfying conclusion.

The shake-up possibilities are limited only by your imagination. A few ideas:

Change writing locations. Write in another room in your house, in your car, or at a coffee shop.Ask a trusted writing buddy to outline the rest of the story for you (and offer to return the favor sometime).Meditate on the story.Engage in a dialogue with the story and interrogate it about what it wants to be.Rewrite the story as a poem.Write each plot point on an index card, throw the cards in the air, pick them up randomly, and reassemble them in the new order.Situation: There’s always more—or different/better

Diagnosis: Psychology is holding you hostage.

As you review the first draft of your memoir, you have a flash of insight about your relationship with your father. Realizing you’ve minimized a pivotal life event, you incorporate more of your father into the next draft. Then you remember the reverberating shame of the incident in which Mrs. Smith ridiculed you in front of your third-grade class. The next edit includes Mrs. Smith. Then you begin to wonder if the structure is right. Maybe it would be better to organize the book around themes rather than images or to narrow the slice of time you cover. Back to the drawing board you go … and next thing you know, years have passed.

You will learn things during the course of writing and revising a first draft that absolutely need to be changed and incorporated into subsequent drafts. There are legitimate questions to be asked about a book’s content and structure that come to light only during the writing. Going through this cycle a few times is perfectly normal and approaching the writing itself as a journey of discovery can be enormously fruitful and emotionally satisfying. But those whose aim is to get their work into the world don’t want to remain in the loop forever.

If you find yourself going over the same ground with your book for years—and find yourself distressed by the process—the problem may not be the book but the deeper concerns you are trying to work out through the book.

Solution #1. Examine your motivations. Ask yourself why you are writing the book. Go beyond surface-level answers like “to share my story” or “get it published.” Maybe it’s “to understand why my mother abandoned me” or “to heal the relationship with my father.” For fiction writers, the answer may have to do with your themes. Then recognize the book’s role in this process. Writing the book can contribute to your understanding or healing and in some cases can do much of the work in this department. But if you find yourself stuck, you may be relying on the book to do a job better suited to a professional.

Solution #2: Call in the professionals. Consider working with a mental health professional, especially if your story is personal or deals with a subject like abuse or trauma. Revisiting life events with the help of a therapist may free you from cycles of revision that can happen when you’re using your book to work through past pain. You could also find a skilled book coach who can help you gain perspective on how life events may be influencing your writing process. Whatever the route, an outsider’s eyes and ears can reflect and echo your challenges in a way that leads to clarity—and being able to finish your project.

Situation: FOFU (fear of finishing up)

Diagnosis: Your book is more than a book.

Book-length projects take time. During the months or years you work on a manuscript, it becomes central to your creative life. You tend to it, nurture it, and get frustrated with it as if it were a child.

When your book-child is ready to leave the nest and go out into the world, it’s natural to feel the impending loss and attendant grief. But if your thirty-year-old book is still living in the basement because you haven’t let it go, you need some tools to loosen the strings.

Solution #1: Work to decouple the book from your identity. Unless we’re saints or Buddhas, even the humblest of us have some part of our identity entwined with our books. That’s a lot of pressure to put on 85,000 words. Process writing—writing about your writing—can be extremely helpful for meta-level writing challenges like this. Schedule some time to reflect. Who will you be without the project that has consumed you for so long? How do you imagine feeling when you finish? What can you do to embrace those feelings?

Solution #2: Accept the good-enough book. Your book will never match the Platonic ideal of your imagination, just as a child will not grow into exactly who their parents think they will become. Nor will it satisfy all readers. The book will be flawed and lumpy and beautiful. And that’s okay. Let go of the need for unachievable perfectionism and for appealing to everyone.

Solution #3: Get excited about your next project. If you don’t have your next writing project in mind already, begin to dream about it. Take a creativity recharge weekend or journal about your ideas. Maybe you plan a sequel, or maybe you’re headed in a completely different direction. An enticing new project waiting in the wings can motivate you to finish.

Solution #4: Find your support system. Writers need champions and cheerleaders to get us through those dark nights of the soul when the inner critics howl. Find fellow writers who can remind you of why you’re writing and help subdue the internal voices insisting that your book won’t be worthy unless you work on it for another five years.

Parting thoughts

There are as many reasons for having trouble finishing a book as there are writers in the world; these are just a few. If you can stick with writing your book for exactly long enough—but not too long—your book will reward you with the satisfaction of becoming what it was meant to be.

Finally, recognize that unless you are suffering, there is no reason to “fix” the problem of revising and re-revising and revisiting your work. Books take time. Time to gestate, develop, grow, and be refined. Plenty of famous works took years or decades and countless drafts to come to life. There is no timeline but your own.