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Use Telling Details to Connect Description to Character

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Today’s post is by editor and author Joe Ponepinto (@JoePonepinto).

Some editors (like me) will occasionally admit they might decline a submission after reading only a few paragraphs. It’s not that they are mean-spirited, or jaded, or working too quickly to get through the submission queue. Instead, their experience allows them to instantly recognize when writing doesn’t meet their journal’s standards. Often it’s in the details—in the lack of telling details, that is.

For example, very often we begin reading submissions that start with a description of a person or a place. Too often the details offered are flat and generic, describing only superficial aspects. Kind of like reading a police report:

The man in the airport had brown hair and blue eyes, and wore a black suit and shiny shoes. He walked briskly toward the shuttle to the international terminal.

This approach creates distance between the reader and the character because it offers no depth, no insight into the person described, and therefore it encourages the writer to adopt an explanatory tone, one that treats the reader as a passive listener who must be educated, lecture style, about the world of the story. But good fiction creates an illusion of real life. If so, then shouldn’t the details of a story be presented in a way that reflects how we discover the world in our real lives, rather than a classroom?

One main key to compelling, immersive fiction is in how details are conveyed. Dull fiction assumes the reader doesn’t know the basics of a scene—if it takes place at a bar, then that bar must be thoroughly described; if it’s a hospital, everyday details about the hospital must be expressed. Good fiction assumes the reader is familiar enough with bars and hospitals to not have to describe them from scratch—only the details that are important to the characters are conveyed.

Which approach is more organic and more effective? Think about how you encounter the world. What things do you notice and what things do you not? Human beings are evolved to notice what is out of the ordinary. We tend to pay less attention to the things we see on a regular basis. This allows us to move forward more efficiently in our lives—imagine what it would be like if we had to pause and consider what the red, yellow, and green meant on a traffic signal every time we encountered one. But because we have seen these signals many times before we don’t have to think about what they mean.

That’s a simple example, but consider how this applies to fiction. Stories that offer the surface details treat readers as though they don’t know what a traffic signal is for. They tend to describe everything in a scene, even the details that don’t matter:

At the party, Sue stood against the green wall, watching. There was a landscape painting across from her. She watched people choose beers from the blue ice chest and food from the spread on the linen-covered table.

That may be real, but it is not life. Do we need to know that the wall is green and had a painting hung from it, or that the ice chest is blue, or that there is beer and food at a party? What does this tell us about Sue? Not much. The writer needs to connect Sue’s surroundings to her character. Also, the delay created by overdetailed description works against the need of a story to move forward.

Good stories concede the banal and instead offer details that have deeper meaning. The writer considers, “What would the character notice and why?”

Let’s go back to that man in the airport. If you’re in an airport you probably pass hundreds of people on your way to your gate. You can’t notice them all, so what about this man makes him stand out?

The man in the airport seemed to be watching me.

You don’t have to describe his height, weight, hair color, eye color…not until they matter. What matters at the start, and what the character notices, is that he is watching. It’s out of the ordinary. It portends possible danger, or at least something unusual.

And as for Sue:

At the party, Sue found a niche away from the crowd, too shy to talk to anyone. These were not her people. But knowing them could mean a big break in her career.

We no longer know what the room looked like, but we know several important things about Sue. Which will lead to the more interesting story?

This is a concept I first encountered reading James Wood’s How Fiction Works. It’s another way of describing close third person POV, but I like the term “telling detail” because it reminds the writer that the details need to inform us not just about what the character saw, but why they mattered—why they are “telling.” And that leads to character depth, the kinds of characters that populate good fiction. We learn about them subtly, through their reactions—how they act and speak in response to the world around them, and the situations in which they find themselves. If fiction is an illusion of real life, then you have to give your reader both parts—the real and the life. It often makes the difference between a dull story and an engrossing one.

When a Writer Dies: Making Difficult Decisions About the Work Left Behind

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Today’s post is by editor and media consultant Eric Newton (@EricNewton1).

Nine days before my wife died, she forwarded me a Brevity post, The Death of a Writer, which asked:

Who is going to deal with your literary legacy, and what do you want done?

My wife wrote, “…interesting re what to do…”

She added a lifesaver emoji.

My wife, Mary Ann Hogan, journalist and teacher, died June 13, 2019, her “tango with lymphoma” ended, her life’s literary work unfinished.

Her manuscript explored her relationship with her father, William Hogan, longtime literary editor of the San Francisco Chronicle. Though he spent his life writing about books, Bill Hogan never wrote one of his own.

Mary Ann died thinking her book would redeem them both.

Now what?

In The Death of a Writer, Allison K Williams reported what she did as a friend’s literary executor. Read everything, she advised. Get help deciding what needs to be published.

So I read everything. My wife’s private journals, texts, social media, photo captions, drafts, published work, all of it. Not to snoop, as Williams noted, but to separate the beauty from the garbage.

Took a year. Could have taken longer.

Literary executor is one thing; grieving husband is quite another. Her death had transformed me from an experienced editor into a forgetful, fragile widower crying rivers without warning. Every time I learned something new—and even in a 40-year relationship, there were a few surprises—I had to slow down to digest them.

A word of advice. It would have been easier if we had talked more about her personal journals and communication beforehand. If you are a writer, yes, get a literary executor of one type or another. But talk about where the lines should be.

My wife’s friends and writing partners agreed to help me read and judge what to save for the book or elsewhere. Then there would be drafts of the book to react to and fact-check. Her posse was more than willing. Mine, too.

We puzzled over things such as:

Should the final chapter be in my voice or hers? Both, we said. I would not pretend to be her. But I would quote her all the time, and we found those quotes.What about the references to mental illness? She talked about panic attacks and flying thoughts, but never named the various diagnoses. What about wine? She talked about how she and her father all were big drinkers, without details. Leave it as she wrote it, we said.What about the title? Circle Way came from the posse. Larger illustrations? That idea came from her writing mentor.Rewrites? Mary Ann had created a lyric essay that jumped around like Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five, becoming at times a duet with her late father’s journal entries. This mosaic, we said, is best as is.

There’s more of her work to publish, in time, and now that we have a system, it can happen.

Finishing Mary Ann’s manuscript was not as hard as finding the right publisher. Parts of Circle Way had won three writing competitions. Publishers said it was “beautiful.” They also said it was “too literary” for the commercial marketplace.

My promise to my wife—to finish her book—felt shattered.

But then a writer friend suggested hiring Jane Friedman. With her help, I decided I wanted a hybrid publisher, in between traditional publishing and self-publishing. Jane recommended one, as well as an agent, to review the contract.

Lucky me. The publisher, Wonderwell, has been spectacular. Smart ideas for adding more art to the book. A fantastic, innovative design. Solid editing. Ways to get books when supply chains break. Every deadline met, the book will be in stores Feb. 15. Reviews to date are good.

In all, the project involved at least 50 people; our sons and their partners; a dozen writer and editor friends; neighbors; an art center; colleagues who scanned and sorted images; and the many who comforted me whenever I fell apart reading Circle Way aloud.

One friend talked about how Mary Ann’s death was a miracle. She died in the family house, in the arms of her husband, sons and dog. She planned her own memorial. Wrote her own obituary. Talked with everyone. Went over her book one last time.

Bookshop / Amazon

Now Circle Way is real, her book “about the people who can escape from prisons of their own making, and the people who can’t.”

“You know what,” she said one day with a grin.

“The worst thing about dying is you can’t tell people what to do anymore.”

“Don’t worry,” I smiled. “You’ll find a way.”

And she did.

Yes, Writers Need to Hear the Hard Truths. But Warnings Can Go Too Far

“Inspiration Arch Plaque” by Bold Frontiers is licensed under CC BY 2.0

Today’s post is by author Shannon A. Thompson (@AuthorSAT).

As an author, program librarian, and writing instructor, I’ve been thinking a lot about my responsibility as a speaker to educate versus inspire. The two go hand in hand, as they should, but I’ve noticed the tone of conference programming has changed over the years.

When I attended my first conference in 2012, programs were focused on the basics of writing and networking. Since then, conferences near me—and now online—have become more sophisticated, offering programs for seasoned writers as well as newbies. Most notably, getting a behind-the-scenes look at the state of the publishing industry has become popular, especially due to changes from the pandemic. Conversations about how to query have become focused on who not to query, the horrors of querying, the worst of the worst. That might be followed up with a discussion dedicated to rejection, in brutally honest fashion.

While warning each other is necessary—especially when it comes to predatory practices or people—I do wonder what happens when we spend too much time on the negative. I myself recently attended a conference where over half of the lineup was dedicated to the pitfalls of publishing. Even a program that I thought would be inspirational had a discouraging tone. After watching three of the five programs I had registered for, I gave up. I closed my laptop and just sat there, staring into the void.

“Why am I doing this?” I thought. “Publishing is impossible. A game of luck. I can’t succeed at anything. My genre is wrong. My age category is wrong. Everything is wrong.”

Warning each other is good. Necessary even. But what happens when we scare artists away from even trying? If I am leaving panels discouraged—when I have more than ten years of publishing under my belt—how are newbies feeling when they hear this information?

As a speaker, I want those who attend my programs to feel uplifted, energized, and excited. I admit that I didn’t always know how to do this. Many years ago, when I was invited to guest speak about my writing journey, I spoke about my trials and tribulations. When I opened the floor for Q&A at the end, a teenage girl in the front row raised her hand first. She asked me, “Why should I even bother?”

Whereas I thought I had been inspirational by sharing all the hardship I had been through, it had frozen a teen writer in her boots.

I had never felt so terrible. Discouragement was not what I wanted my audience to take away from my speech. I knew right then that I needed to correct my speaking style.

Over the next few weeks, I did a deep dive into what inspired me to write when I was first starting out. I thought back to when I told my dad I wanted to pursue writing. He didn’t sit me down and say how hard it would be, how much rejection I would face, my mediocre chances, etc. He knew I would face that on my own and keep going if I truly wanted that dream. He simply told me he believed in me. The next day, I sat down and wrote—and wrote, and wrote again.

I made a lot of mistakes along the way. Heck, I still do. But making those mistakes was part of the journey. If I had known everything I knew now about publishing at the beginning of my writing career, I can’t say I would’ve attempted to pursue my dream. The weight of the future might’ve felt like too much to bear, when really, I needed to focus on creating and exploring (instead of what could go wrong). Learning came with the territory. Networking, too, weaved its way in, and slowly, my understanding took shape.

When I think back on my first conferences, I remember so many more success stories. How I got my book deal. How I got my agent. How you, too, can organize your writing space, your book, your dreams, and make them a reality.

I learned more about the negative side when I was ready to learn, and a lot of being ready required real-life experience. There’s only so many craft books you can study before you must write your first sentence. You can read all the rejection stories in the world, but that won’t stop you from getting rejected when you finally put yourself out there. You may know how other people have reacted, coped, and kept moving, but that is a unique experience to you that you will learn with time.

Sometimes I worry for the writer who attends a conference for the first time and hears discouraging conversations over and over. Yes, those discussions are important to have. But hope is a powerful thing. I don’t want the world to miss out on fantastic art because a writer left a program wondering why they are even trying. To make that happen, we need more encouragement. More dreaming. More “Yes, you can! I believe in you. Here’s how you can succeed, too.” Our educational programs can also be inspirational.

What Kind of Book Translates Well to the Screen?

This article was first published in my paid newsletter for authors, The Hot Sheet.

Given the increase in book-to-screen deals in recent years, and the tendency of the TV/movie industry to build off existing intellectual property, it’s natural for authors to wonder if their own work is suitable for adaptation—or if they can increase their chances of writing something that will be adapted. In a panel last year at the virtual Bologna Book Fair, several players in the industry discussed what they look for in projects.

Compared to scripts, books might have a better chance of becoming a recommended project. Annie Nybo, a reader for Netflix, sifts through more than 200 potential projects in a year for the streaming service. Her job requires her to read a book or script, write a three-page summary or synopsis as well as a one-page analysis, and rate the project on five criteria. Those criteria include premise, structure (hitting the plot beats), story line (how that plot is working), character, and dialogue. Even for books, Nybo is able to rate dialogue based on how the characters speak and if they sound unique (versus everyone kind of sounding alike).

Last year, Nybo read 215 scripts and books combined and recommended eight of them. That’s about a 4% acceptance rate for projects coming to her. As far as books specifically, she read 22 and recommended four. That’s a 14% acceptance rate and half of what she recommended. (Stand proud, authors, agents, and publishers!)

Nybo tends to start by first analyzing the premise when recommending projects. “We all have to write loglines and summarize a whole project in one sentence, and so for me, finding a project where the premise is the conflict is really important.” As an example, she offered To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, in which the main character’s secret love letters somehow get mailed to each of her five crushes: that’s the premise and the conflict.

It doesn’t matter how many copies the book has sold. Nybo said if the book is popular or has an established following, she has to take that into consideration when thinking about the adaptation, especially when there’s a plot point she doesn’t think will work well for the screen. If the fans are very invested in the story, it could be more challenging to adapt. “There’s more room to shift things when you don’t have an enormous audience,” she said.

Characters are critical. Caterina Gonnelli, EVP of content at Xilam Animation (France) said, “We want authentic characters and characters who are really moved by a strong drive and a clear drive. For children’s content we would want this character also to embody positive character traits—which does not mean that he or she is flawless. Of course we also want flaws, because otherwise there is no salt in the recipe.” Speaking again to children’s work, she added that the themes need to be clear, but not preachy, and the character’s trajectory must be clear. “What doesn’t work for us is what is static,” Gonnelli said. For example, a story might be static because there isn’t sufficient action or there aren’t any turning points or surprises for the characters.

Ellen Doherty at Fred Rogers Productions agreed and added that some stories just don’t pop. “You don’t get to know enough of the character or the world,” she said. “Sometimes there’s just no growth.” The characters are so important that if they’re strong enough, what might at first appear as a very local or regional story can in fact be adapted into something universal and appealing for global audiences—regardless of the source country of the material.

How loyal an adaptation should remain to a book—and how much the author ought to be involved—remains an open question. Gonnelli said, “We could debate for hours.” On the one hand, she said, one can argue that the author is in the best position to know the characters and the world they’ve built. But one might also argue distance is required to produce the best adaptation. “I guess what is really key is the relationship—to build a relationship that is based on trust, mutual trust—and for that you need to factor in a lot of time,” she said. She warned that if producers totally skip looping in the author—partly to offer reassurance that the book is in good hands—then there will be trouble. “You’re in a lot of anxiety from both sides.”

Doherty said, “That relationship between the producer and the author is key.” Ideally, the vision for the TV or film version can be built together during the development phase, so that when production starts, there’s already been a meeting of the minds and everyone knows what’s going to happen. However, Doherty said, “Ultimately when it comes to a TV version, for me the producer has to have the final say because we know our medium the best. I have seen instances where the author has too much control and the translation to the new medium doesn’t work so well.”

It’s more common than ever for producers and studios to find ideas and stories by following creators on social media. This is especially true in the case of graphic novels, comics, and illustrated children’s work. Doherty said there’s now a “profusion of opportunities” to find content on social media. Doherty said, “To follow individual creators that way is really interesting because you get to see more of their personality, you get to see maybe their playfulness and things that are in process, and I really like that. There are people that I’m watching to see what they do next; I’m checking out their books as they go.”

How can an author increase their chances of adaptation?

All panelists agreed that they look for stories that are the best example or expression of their genre. Nybo and others look for that blend of familiar and fresh, where the author clearly knows what genre they’re working in and hits those structural points but includes interesting and surprising twists and turns. Perhaps it goes without saying, but the quality of the writing on the page doesn’t matter. Rather, it’s more important that the story is “working on all cylinders,” according to Nybo. Excellent literary writing can’t translate to the screen as well as snappy characters.

Angela Cheng Caplan, president and CEO of Cheng Caplan Company, said (in a separate panel at Bologna): “Honestly, it’s all about the narrative. It’s really about the author’s narrative. We really, really pay attention to that. What is the author’s back story? What is the author trying to say? I’m always big on context. And I always have the authors that I work with put together an author statement that really sort of addresses why they’re the only person in the world to tell this story—what exactly it is that they’re going through that makes this relevant for this moment in their lives and how it can relate to everybody else.”

She also offered a warning: “Within the past year we’ve actually started looking at potential clients and their social media. I’m very, very aware of when someone is a troll, quite frankly—if they’re trolling for the good or trolling for the bad at some point in time. Whatever energy is put out there sort of comes back in some way, shape, or form. So I would say for authors who are out there trying to create publicity for themselves … be very aware of the kindness or lack of kindness you’re putting out into the world.”

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How to Plan and Host Worthwhile Online Book Events

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

Note from Jane: Tomorrow I’m hosting a class taught by Barbara Linn Probst, Book Publicity 101, to help authors understand when and how to hire professional help for a book launch.

Since the pandemic arrived in early 2020, the entirety of the publishing community has turned its eye toward online events as a key way to spread word of mouth about books. And a lot continues to ride on the success of these events. Yet how many authors have been effectively trained in staging a meaningful online event—especially one that translates into sales?

I reached out to some of the most experienced and astute authors and marketers to share their best practices for online book events, regardless of the platform you’re using.

First, decide what you want from the event.

Former literary agent Mary Kole (who runs the Good Story Company) says you need to decide if you want readers or if you want sales—the two are not necessarily the same thing. “By hosting a great event where you have hundreds of attendees—but no sales—you have maybe gained some readers. They came, they saw, they enjoyed, they maybe signed up for your email list. Is this enough?” Sometimes it is, Kole says. But you need to be clear about what you’re hoping to achieve so you can adjust how you frame the event from the start and what you ask people to do.

Novelist Hank Phillippi Ryan of Career Authors says, “A book event does not necessarily need to translate into sales at that very moment. If an author can drum up interest in their new book and themselves, and create a general excitement about it, and a sense of anticipation, I think that’s very helpful. Then the next time the reader sees your book, they remember, Oh—I just saw that! Or I just heard about that.”

As marketers are fond of saying: People buy books they’ve heard about, and events create word of mouth and a needed impression. If successful, the event will endear you to readers and increase the future likelihood of a sale. Novelist Caroline Leavitt recommends, “Be casual. Be yourself. Readers want to see the real you, so the more unpracticed and unrehearsed you sound, the better. If you can be warm and funny, readers will love you, and they will want your book that much more!”

Build marketing support or find partners for your event.

Author Angela Ackerman of Writers Helping Writers suggests reaching out to your existing audience and letting them know you’re planning something fun. In other words: form a street team or launch team. Provide a signup form that lists all the ways your team can help; then they can decide how to support you. Ackerman says she and her co-author rely on the teams’ blogs to point to the event, a strategy she describes as lots of windows, one house. “I craft the posts in text and HTML to make it easy [for them] to drop in, and create three different versions which I split into three groups so not every blog has the same images and content.” Also, she says, be sure to offer team members a thank-you gift afterward.

Rachel Thompson of BadRedhead Media offers a caveat regarding this approach: “I caution any author to not jump into this unless they have a body of work behind them,” she says. “I didn’t start my team until I had published four books.” That said, if you have a recognizable name already—or if your book is on a topic that readers can quickly and avidly get behind—she says it’s possible to create a team and people will jump right in.

If a launch team or street team is out of the question for you, look for other like-minded partners. “I think an online launch is all about increasing your reach,” says novelist Kristy Woodson Harvey. “Teaming up with other authors, influencers, bloggers, and, of course, a favorite indie bookstore for joint events can help grow the potential audience. And if you have a regional bookseller association that would get involved (SIBA, MIBA, etc.), so much the better.”

Likewise, novelist Karen Karbo suggests, “Being in conversation is more interesting than a talking head. If you can talk with someone with her own following, even better.”

Determine the event theme, content, and structure.

Ackerman says that she and her co-author try to do events with an emotional pull, so they look at three components for each event.

Offering entertainment. This isn’t a hard one to understand: people want to participate in something fun. Ackerman says, “We think about why our readers are online, what sort of escapism might appeal to them, and how can we cater to that. People tend to respond to creative things that pull them out of their day-to-day as long as it’s easy to do.”Adding value. Often, this takes the shape of a giveaway and gives people a reason to attend. More on this below.Satisfying a need. Ackerman says, “As human beings, we have common needs, like connection, belonging, fellowship, creativity, etc., and if you can find a need that your audience is receptive to, you can build a theme into your event they will connect to emotionally and so rally behind. This makes them more motivated to participate in the event and share it with others, which in turn means visibility and books sold.”

Whether it’s better to use Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, Zoom, or something else will depend on where the author has a following or is otherwise comfortable engaging. Consider these factors:

“If the event takes place on social media, think about what the audience is there for. Entertainment? A break from routine and work? Information?” Ackerman says. “What do they like, and what will catch their attention on that platform?”Facebook launch parties. Thompson says these aren’t likely to sell a lot of books, “yet you’ll connect with your readership and build relationships and visibility for future sales.” If you have a street team, you’ll gain new membership, new followers on other channels, and newsletter subscribers. Indie author and marketer Shayla Raquel hosts Facebook launch parties specifically on the day of release to push for last-minute sales, so she always hosts them in the evening. She says, “The launch party in no way is meant to replace any other marketing components—it’s a little bonus tool to help you end the day with a bang.” Keep the event fast paced and fun, Raquel says, and ensure posts have relevant and unique photos of you, the book, and/or the prizes; avoid stock photos. Thompson recommends that if you have no experience doing a Facebook launch party, consider hiring someone who does. “There are lots of ins and outs. They’re a lot of work.”Twitter chats. Thompson suggests authors look for and participate in a chat already running in their genre or on their topic. If there isn’t one, consider starting one. “Be forewarned, though, chats take coordination and commitment,” she says. “I’ve been doing these chats every week for about five to six years. You need to pick a weekly topic, research it, invite guests, and share summaries. I also create blog posts from the chat. This can help immensely in your Twitter growth and author branding.” (Thompson hosts #BookMarketingChat every Wednesday at 9 p.m. Eastern.)Author Q&A. As suggested earlier, try to coordinate with another author or influencer so that you’re not a lone talking head, and do these live. Thompson says you can invite readers to ask you questions about your inspirations, writing process, books, writing life, cats, etc.

Author Kristina Stanley had a very successful Facebook launch party several years ago that pushed her to number one on Amazon Hot New Releases. But her later events were not as successful. “I’ve heard from other authors their first Facebook launch party goes better than the others. One thought is all your friends are super keen about your first book. … To make my first party work, I reached out to hundreds of my friends directly and asked them for help. After my third book, I stopped doing the online parties because of the effort/payoff ratio.”

Ackerman says that whatever you do for an event, it can’t look like the same old same old. “Thinking outside the box to do something fresh is what attracts attention and gets people talking and sharing.” In other words: your first successful online event may not be replicable; you have to mix things up to keep attention over a series of events.

Give people a reason to attend by offering giveaways.

Just about every event—especially a launch event—includes book giveaways and other prizes. Raquel and Thompson both recommend using gift cards; the grand prize can be a signed copy of the author’s book.

Ryan says such enticements have escalated over the past couple of years. “At first, people were giving away things—notebooks and coffee mugs and tote bags,” she says. Eventually, she saw that people grew tired of those, so she and some authors switched to “buy one, get one.” For example, if a reader bought her new book and sent a proof of purchase, she sent a backlist book for free. But that also lost its allure over time. Ultimately, she says, the strongest factor of all is whether the reader really wants the book no matter what (and may end up purchasing it anyway).

Novelist Amy Impellizzeri has found that the promise of future book club appearances (whether live or FaceTime or Zoom) is a fan favorite. “When readers know their favorite authors are willing to make an appearance to their own book clubs after the online launch, they are more likely to buy and even read!” she says.

Ackerman says while she and her co-author might give away books at their events, they tailor prizes to their readership. “I think that’s important—anyone might stop by to win an Amazon gift card, but only people interested in writing would want to win my critiques, seats in a writing webinar, or writing swag.” Another option to consider is access. “People, especially readers, like to be part of an inner circle, and all authors can incorporate this into giveaways or freebies. I’ve given away lunch dates, Skype sessions, etc., but you could be accessible in lots of ways—offer membership in a Facebook reader’s group, send ecards and recipes on their birthday—whatever fits the author.”

Know how to design a sales-focused event, if that’s your goal.

This is where your intended ask comes into play—your call to action. Kole says you should know what it is long before the event takes place; it determines how you set up the event and how you close it. As discussed, it’s acceptable to plan an event more focused on building a readership than making sales. But what if you want to be sales focused?

Kole says that an event focused on “come hear a reading” doesn’t prime anyone to buy; the expectation is entertainment. “The writer doesn’t ask for a sale and doesn’t get one. If the writer does ask, their audience may not be expecting it and may be turned off,” Kole says. “The writer’s icky feelings about sales come to the surface. It is a mismatch between expectation and call to action.”

Alternatively, a call to action like “come support my book launch” is a bit better because the attendee knows there’s an expectation: support. Kole says, “To me, this is the writer’s ‘nice and polite’ way of asking for a sale without asking for it because, again, they feel icky about it.”

But the ideal way to frame an event that leads to sales? Kole suggests “Be the first to get your hands on my new release.” This might attract fewer attendees but result in more sales because the language is very clear. “The expectation is that you come and buy,” Kole says. “This is a straightforward call to action with very little dancing around the issue. With the audience primed to expect a sale, the writer will have less trouble working up the courage to deliver the call to action at the event.”

To further increase sales and visibility from her online events, Raquel creates book-related prompts that attendees have to complete for a chance at winning a prize. For example, attendees might have to follow an author’s Amazon page, sign up for the author’s email newsletter, and/or recommend the book on Goodreads to three friends.

Ackerman says she rarely pressures people to buy during online events, although it can be prudent for pre-orders and Amazon ranking. When she did a more sales-oriented pre-order push, it was separate from online events. “I did three things to encourage people to get the pre-order. First, we made a big deal about a ‘surprise book’ we were writing but wouldn’t tell anyone what it was. We even had a fake cover. So, we built excitement and encouraged guessing. Second, we announced the pre-order the day we announced the book and shared the cover. So, people who were excited by the book’s topic could ride that excitement all the way to Amazon and pre-order. Third, we offered a freebie to anyone who did pre-order. We set up a Gmail account just for this and asked people to submit proof of purchase to it. When they did, the autoresponder sent them a link to a website page with the freebie. This worked well and made it easy for us to distribute the free item.”

Kole says any ask for a sale can be galvanized if you offer a promo code or discount with an expiration date. However, that can obviously lower your earnings—which takes us back to where we started this piece. “What is it that you want with this event? To get readers? To transmit books into hands? Or to make royalties?” Kole says. “It doesn’t just have to be about the dollar amount of the sale … it can be about gaining a fan.”

Keep in mind

Over the long term, Ackerman suggests using events to build relationships with readers rather than just sell books. “I’ve seen Zoom dinner parties, Netflix-watching parties, online pub nights, memes for days, all kinds of stuff,” she says. “We need more of this connection and less ‘buy my book’ promotion.” Once those reader relationships get established, she says, even though they take time to build, the audience then does the promoting for the author. Whatever tactics you adopt—whether sales oriented or relationship oriented—Kole says, “Writers need to market now more than ever. There are people out there marketing their work, and they are getting ahead, while writers who succumb to overwhelm or analysis paralysis miss opportunities.”

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The Role of Causation and Plot Structure in Literary Fiction

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Today’s post is by author and developmental editor Harrison Demchick (@HDemchick).

A few years ago I was visiting a local writers’ group giving a lecture on narrative structure, in particular the role of cause and effect. It’s the sort of thing any editor or creative writing teacher is going to touch on in some form or another: Causation is the driving force of narrative. Each plot beat is in some respect the effect of what precedes it and the cause of what follows.

But as I began to provide examples, a woman raised her hand and asked a very important question: What about literary fiction? What about character drama? These chains of cause and effect don’t seem nearly so prevalent in quieter, less action-oriented genres.

She had a point. So many resources you’ll find on writing plot focus on genre fiction and thrillers. My talk was no exception: I was highlighting examples from Ghostbusters, Jaws, and Spider-Man. The reason is that the mechanics of plot are far easier to see in action-oriented narratives. The hero needs to follow the clues to find the bomb before it destroys half of Manhattan. The zombies have broken through the door and our pack of plucky survivors need to move quickly to survive. In a well-constructed thriller, it’s very easy to see how each moment leads to the next, and very easy to explain it.

But that’s not what everyone wants to write. It’s not what everyone should be writing. In focusing on those examples, I’d neglected something very important: Yes, causation is fundamental in character-driven literary fiction too, but it doesn’t look the same. It’s subtler. It’s quieter. And we editors need to be precise in defining how the mechanics of plot relate to literary fiction as well.

Character is plot

Most well-written thrillers are going to have a character arc. But one of the fundamental differences between most thrillers and a lot of literary fiction is that in literary fiction, quite often, the character arc is the primary narrative. Understanding that is important in understanding as well how causation drives character.

Imagine a story covering years in the life of a college professor. Fairly early in the narrative, his wife dies. Five years later, his poor habits and half-hearted lectures have the dean calling for his resignation.

Now, did his wife’s death cause him to lose his notes for last week’s lecture? Of course not. But it did change him. It left him less passionate about what he does. Five years on, maybe he’s a good deal more cynical about the world. Maybe he doesn’t see the point in trying.

The causation, then, is not in the direct plot connection between cause and effect, but rather cause and effect over time as reflected in small but meaningful shifts in character.

Circumstance and happenstance

In most commercial fiction, happenstance is the opposite of causation, reflecting plot beats that occur not due to preceding events but by the whim of the author. But life itself introduces new and unpredictable circumstances, and it’s not wrong for literary fiction to reflect this. Take, say, a film like The Shawshank Redemption (adapted by Frank Darabont from Stephen King’s novella Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption), where much of the latter action hinges upon a new character who just happens to have spent prison time with the true culprit of the crime for which protagonist Andy Dufresne has been falsely imprisoned.

Were this a novel about how Andy gets out of prison, this could easily come across as forced or contrived. But The Shawshank Redemption is a steady character drama set over decades. Because the actual story is the changes in the character and his circumstances and how this influences subsequent decisions and action, our focus is less on the happenstance of the development and more on Andy’s response, which is absolutely the result of a subtle but consistent chain of cause and effect.

In literary fiction, then, the notion that every plot beat is the effect of what precedes it and the cause of what follows is a good deal looser. You don’t want all action to come out of the blue, but you accept that events can occur outside the protagonist’s control and ken. And if Andy hadn’t been through everything else that precedes this new character’s arrival, he wouldn’t be in a position to learn what this character knows or to respond to it the way he does, both as a matter of character and as a matter of plot.

So happenstance doesn’t supplant causation. Happenstance is used to support and develop causation.

Nonlinear storytelling

Now let’s make things really complicated. How do you establish the principles of causation and narrative structure in a story in which events are revealed to the reader out of order?

Certainly literary fiction doesn’t hold exclusive rights to nonlinear storytelling, but literary fiction is likelier to play around with story structure. The farther you separate one plot beat from the next, the more challenging it is to establish causation and continuity in a way readers can understand and engage with.

But this doesn’t mean we lack structure. It means we need to consider structure on two tracks.

The first is the linear story. However that story is presented to readers, it still needs to be cohesive on its own not only in terms of causation, but also in narrative arc: inciting incident, rising action, climax, falling action, denouement.

The second is the story as it’s told. There may not be a narrative connection between two subsequent plot beats for the simple reason that they occur at entirely different times in the protagonist’s experience—but there is nevertheless a thematic connection, or something one plot beat reveals about the other. You, the author, have cause to present these specific moments in this particular order.

The arc, then, is in readers’ understanding of the story. Each beat causes the next in that it causes you, the author, to reveal it. So the action still rises toward that climax.

None of this is to say it’s simple. Balancing a nonlinear narrative can be enormously complicated. You want to be sure readers still have a sense of an advancing plot, character-based or otherwise. That’s why the integrity of the narrative at the core of the story is so important, regardless of the order in which the details are revealed. But there’s an art to nontraditional, nonlinear storytelling, and that art is set firmly in the realm of causation and structure.

So if you’re a writer of literary fiction, don’t get caught in the trap of imagining story structure is not for you just because so many of the defining examples are in different genres. The principle of causation may be less obvious, but it’s no less important—and it may just be the key to crafting a great character-driven story.

Here’s What Can Happen When You Resolve to Write a Little Every Day

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Today’s post is by Sharon Oard Warner, the author of Writing the Novella.

I make New Year’s resolutions. I don’t keep all of them—especially those that involve dieting—but a few have been lifechanging. Here and there, I’ve hit on something that made all the difference. Some forty years ago, for instance, I made this one: notice something nice, say something nice. Be it to strangers, family, or friends. On one long ago January day, I began voicing my admiration for all manner of things—gorgeous, dangly earrings in the ears of a waitress; my uncle’s resonant baritone; someone’s happy dog or baby; a perfect turn of phrase. You name it: over the years, I’ve liked it out loud and never once regretted doing so. Everyone loves a compliment.

But this post is about another resolution, one I made some thirty-three years ago, at a real turning point in my life. My older son was six and the younger one just toddling around the coffee table. This would have been the cusp of 1986. My husband and I had been out of graduate school for a couple of years—he’d finished a Ph.D. in psychology, and I’d completed an MA in English/Creative Writing. We were in the thick of things, and the dream I’d nurtured for most of my adult life—publishing a book of short stories and then a novel, teaching creative writing at the college level—seemed entirely out of reach.

Newly ensconced in Ames, Iowa, both of us were teaching semester to semester at Iowa State University. Noses to the grindstone, we were paying our dues and eking out a monthly payment on school loans. Foremost in our minds were our responsibilities to others: first family then students. Lots of students. I was teaching four classes of composition and professional writing a semester, and every spare moment went to grading an endless round of papers. Other people’s writing always took precedence over mine. Something had to give.

So, when New Year’s Eve of 1986 rolled around, I made a desperate resolution and framed it in the imperative: Get up an hour earlier than necessary six days a week and spend those sixty minutes writing short fiction. To make myself more accountable, I shared the plan with my husband and a couple of writing friends.

Good thing I did. Those first few weeks were hard as hell. I was rusty as a writer, and, worse yet, I was weary and uninspired. More than once, I fell asleep at the kitchen table. Only desperation kept me going. When the alarm went off, I rolled out of bed and tiptoed into the kitchen, anxious not to wake the kids. Fixed a cup of instant coffee and sat my butt in the chair.

Weeks passed, and I yawned a lot. But I also found some words and wrote them down. A month or two in, I saw progress: Words lined up in neat little sentences. Sentences lined up in neat little rows. Each morning, I began by reading what I’d written the day before. My first achievement was getting my writing life back.

I began by reworking a story-in-progress called “Christina’s World,” something I’d drafted in Louisiana, before the birth of my younger son. Inspired by Andrew Wyeth’s painting of the same name, the story takes its plot from the subject of the painting, a neighbor of Wyeth’s named Christina Olsen. I did my best by the story then sent it out to a literary magazine. It came back, and I sent it out again. Eventually, “Christina’s World” was published in Green Mountains Review. The editors nominated it for a Pushcart Prize. (If you’re wondering, yes: The painting, “Christina’s World” also inspired Christina Baker Kline’s 2017 novel, A Piece of the World.)

My next story was based on a dream, which makes sense, right? After all, I was writing in my pajamas. The dream story came together more quickly—I finished it in a matter of weeks. Titled “The Whole World at Once,” it would be published in the next year or two in Cleveland University’s magazine, Gamut. And it won the journal’s 10th Anniversary contest.

These new publications made me more competitive for jobs. I landed a visiting assistant professor job at Drake University in Des Moines, where I worked for five years. At Drake, I taught freshman comp—and creative writing. Around that time, I also joined the faculty at the University of Iowa’s Summer Writing Festival. And began reviewing books for the Kansas City Star which eventually led to writing the occasional In-Short review for the New York Times Book Review.

I don’t want to make this sound easy because it wasn’t. Along the way, I received two or three times as many rejections as acceptances. I am a slow writer, and in those days, editors insisted on a single-submission policy. Consulting my C.V., I see that I published one story in ’87 and thereafter averaged one new story in print every year until 1992. That’s the year New Rivers Press published my first book, Learning to Dance and Other Stories.

Because I was a regular book reviewer, my small-press story collection got more than its share of coverage, almost all of it positive. The high point was a review in the pages of Ms. Magazine by one of my favorite short story authors, Grace Paley. And a call from a New York City agent.

The trade-off, of course, was long-term sleep deprivation. My husband loves to tell people that I slept through an afternoon basketball game between Iowa State and Kansas. Thousands of screaming fans didn’t deter my snooze. For many years to come, I would doze through movies and plays, dance performances and concerts. No sooner had the lights dimmed than my chin hit my chest.

Do the math, and you’ll realize that it took seven years of early-morning writing to publish that book of stories, but one resolution, faithfully kept, changed the trajectory of my career. It made everything I’ve done since possible.

In 1993, I interviewed at the Modern Language Association Conference in Toronto for a tenure-track job at the University of New Mexico. During that interview, one of the female professors asked me this: “How do you plan to juggle family and teaching obligations with your own writing goals and the expectations of the University?” I guess you know my answer.

Not that it got me the job, of course. But the resolution did. Of that’s there’s no doubt. Since 1987, I’ve published five books: a short story collection, two novels, an edited anthology, and a craft book on writing the novella. Am I still getting up at 5:30 a.m.? Nope. I’m too old for that, and it’s no longer necessary. These days, I do my best work somewhere around 9 a.m.

Maybe you’re in the thick of things right now. Maybe you’ve got a baby and a job and any number of balls in the air. But you want to write; you’re dying to write. Then try your own version of this approach in 2022. Maybe you can carve out thirty minutes rather than an hour. That’s fine, better than fine. Once you’ve established the routine, once you’re writing on a regular schedule, you will be surprised by how much you accomplish—both at the desk and away. Daily walks or commutes will double as brainstorming sessions. One thing does lead to another.

No, you won’t be perfect at it. Neither was I. Here and there, you’ll miss a day or two or three. But don’t give up! If you love words, make time for them. Here, I think of that lovely line from the poet Mary Oliver, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?” Write it down.

Don’t Let Your Characters Fall Into the Daily Routine Trap

Today’s guest post is by editor Kayla Kauffman (@CWCauthorassist) of Copy Write Consultants.

When writers seek to humanize and bring their characters to life, they can be tempted to fall into what I call the “daily routine trap.” Writers who fall prey to this trap typically over-explain the daily or mundane actions of their characters, usually in an attempt to move them from point A to point B in the narrative.

This trap is especially dangerous for sci-fi and fantasy writers who describe epic quests and journeys, but it can lure writers of any genre. It is easy to include mundane actions—especially eating and drinking—that feel essential to the writer but tedious and arbitrary to the reader.

I recently read a futuristic dystopian novel that I found quite compelling, except I couldn’t get over how often I read about characters’ meals and how they were cooked—I mean every meal. The author’s objective was obviously to convey how dramatically different diets and kitchen labor would be in the new, regressive, agrarian society; and it was effective. But after the third five-course feast, my interest kept stalling as I tried to get through what felt like menu descriptions from an overeager waiter.

As an editor and avid reader, I see this happen often. Maybe it’s because of my lowbrow sense of humor, but I have often paused my reading to wonder, “Why do I have to know every time a character eats? If I’m not told, does that mean they don’t eat? Since I’m not told about it, does this mean that the character never goes to the bathroom?”

Presumably, when, what, and how a heroine eats makes her human or relatable, but her restroom habits make her gross.

However, descriptions of any mundane task can detract from character personas and stories as much as potty breaks.

Example 1: Waking up beside the extinguished campfire, Lync slowly recognized his surroundings and remembered his mission. After eating a quick breakfast, he shouldered his pack and continued his difficult journey.

I read transitions like this all of the time. Here, we are told that Lync eats and shoulders his pack to get him from sleep (point A) back to his journey (point B). However, most readers would assume that a big-deal hero would eat if he’s hungry and not forget his stuff all over the place like a five year old. If the writer’s objective is to get Lync on the road, there are more efficient ways to get him there that also offer some character reflection.

Revised example 1: Waking up beside the extinguished campfire, Lync slowly recognized his surroundings and remembered his mission. Groggily starting on the path, he wondered if he was prepared to see it through.

Example 2: Anna felt flustered as she hung up with her lawyer and wanted a drink. She reached for an open bottle of wine, poured herself a glass, and drank deeply. She needed to calm her nerves and think about what to do.

I might include this play-by-play of how Anna gets a drink if, say, I want to establish that Anna is an alcoholic and is always grabbing at readily available, open bottles of booze. But if I simply want to convey Anna’s angst, I can trust readers to assume that Anna knows how to pour a drink—she’s not on an infomercial. Skip the chores and get to the angst:

Revised example 2: Anna felt flustered as she hung up with her lawyer. She drank deeply from a glass of wine to calm her nerves and think about what to do.

Descriptions of routine actions are rarely necessary to help the reader understand the character’s world. These details should be included only to draw the reader’s attention to some other idea or event. Readers won’t worry that a character is hungry—just like they don’t worry about whether or not a character has gone to the bathroom if they don’t hear about it.

How to Get Your Writing Done When New Year’s Resolutions Don’t Work (and They Usually Don’t)

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Today’s post is by Allison K Williams (@GuerillaMemoir). Join us on Thursday for her class This Is the Year You’ll Finish Your Book.

Happy New Year! Many of us feel a sense of renewal in January, and it’s tempting to resolve, “This year I’ll start a brand-new writing habit!”

The power of resolution has worked for me exactly once. In 2008, I decided I wasn’t going to be late any more. That’s mostly held true. But sustained behavioral change is genuinely difficult for all of us, and roughly 90% of New Year’s resolutions fail.

I haven’t chosen a behavior-change resolution in a while, but I do make yearly goals. Usually four biggish things I’d like to accomplish: 1–2 writing goals, an income goal, and a personal goal (“happy marriage”). Every week, a to-do automatically pops up on my list app: Check in on goals. For each goal, I write down the next small, immediate step I can take that week—the smallest task possible, so that it’s actually doable:

Novel #1: Gather notes from last writing group meeting and put them on my deskNovel #2: On hold until #1 is doneIncome: Review slides for next webinar, list updates neededPersonal: Ask husband to pick a movie for dinner

Sometimes the steps are ridiculously small, like “think about Chapter Four.”

Sometimes the step is “on hold,” and I check in with what’s stopping me from moving forward—no brain space? No time? Missing a resource or information?

Instead of a big change, a shiny new habit, think of one small thing to do to support your writing in the new year. Ditch “I’ll write every day,” for something like “I’ll open my project and look at it, possibly writing, once a week.” Ridiculously small? Yes. But think how much better it feels to discover you’ve written for an hour twice this week after sitting down, rather than feeling shitty you skipped five days because life. A small, low-commitment habit helps us feel like a “real writer” even on the days when no words appear on the page.

Pick a time

The next step is key: I write the task on my to-do list, on a specific day that week I’m making time to do it. If I can’t do it that week, it goes back to “on hold.”

If the task can’t start with a verb (Ask, Review, Gather), it’s not doable.

If it’s not specific, it’s not doable.

When I catch myself writing a reminder that’s a noun, like “Webinar slides,” I rephrase as a verb and a doable step: “Make 6 slides for webinar.”

Quantities help set boundaries for tasks—I know I can slog through 6 slides in an hour whether I’m “feeling it” or not, and Future Me will be glad that Past Me did some rough drafts.

I break writing down the same way. My focus this year is finishing two novels, one in a last draft and the other about halfway through a first draft. If I thought about them both at the same time, I wouldn’t have enough focus for either one. Setting January aside to finish Book One lets me work without that divided brain. I’ll start Book Two in February, and I can work without guilt, knowing I’m not supposed to be thinking about it now.

Make a specific location and time for writing. If you know your partner/children/pets will disturb you, get out of the house and turn off your phone. Even writing in your car in the parking lot of 7-11 is better than having one ear open for household excitement.

Know how you work

Most writers are either “gym workers” or “theatre workers.” That is, some of us do well writing most days at a set time that’s part of our routine, like going to the gym. Others do their best writing in a series of binges, like the madcap rehearsal process before opening night of a play.

I’m a theatre worker, so my Book Two goal will be 4500 words/month of new material. I might do 450 words a day for ten days if I hit a routine, but I’m far more likely to lock myself in a room and do them all at once, once a month. If I do more, hurray! But that’s a number I know I can do if I get to February 27 and it’s not done yet.

Assemble your tools

If you sit down to work, and discover your laptop battery is dead, or your pen’s dry, or you really need a drink of water, or Scrivener hasn’t synced yet, solving those problems will interrupt your flow. Anywhere from the night before to an hour before, prepare your space and your tools as if you’re making a mini-retreat for a beloved writing friend. What would you set out for them to have the best possible writing experience? Would you adjust the lighting? Put fresh flowers on the desk? Make sure a snack is close at hand? Look online for how to properly adjust the chair? Treat your own work as worthy of that care.

Track your work

If you’re a paper person, make a checklist and color in those bubbles for every 1000 words, or 100 words, or whatever feels like a small, doable step. Seriously, small! You’re more likely to come back to the work if you left feeling, “Yay I wrote 300 words!” instead of “I didn’t make it to 1000…”

If you’re an app person, use a tracker app that counts your streak or grows a tree while you work. It seems ridiculous that the desire to “not break a streak” can get me to the page on a day I might not otherwise make time, but it works, so I’ll take it.

Allow for grace

Small steps. Doable steps. Use a verb. Pick a time. Set your tools. And…forgive yourself. You’re writing a book, not coal-mining. It’s unlikely your children will be eating lead paint chips for dinner if you don’t finish this year. It’s OK if you take a break and come back. Treat your beautiful, wonderful words with joy and lightness. Be thrilled with each tiny step.

Note from Jane: Want more techniques to finish your book this year? Join us Thursday for This Is the Year You’ll Finish Your Book. And if your list is full, yes, there will be a recording!

BookTok: A Safe Haven for Young Female Readers

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The following article was first published in my paid newsletter, The Hot Sheet.

It might well be impossible at this point to host a children’s publishing event without offering at least one session focused on TikTok—or, more specifically, BookTok, the community of young book lovers on the platform. At The Bookseller’s children’s online publishing conference last fall, a panel discussed the power of BookTok and why it’s pushing YA books up the bestseller lists. The latest title to fly off shelves because of BookTok is They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera, the second best-selling book of 2021 overall in the UK children’s market—and number-one bestseller in the US.

The marketing power of BookTok starts with peer-to-peer recommendation. 

All book marketing research shows that people are strongly influenced by what friends suggest they read, and that describes TikTok on a global scale. But the twist with TikTok is that it goes beyond a simple recommendation or just flashing a book cover. Instead, BookTokers focus on a book’s plot, themes, and genre—the real meaty heart of the book, not necessarily the aesthetic. Panel moderator Charlotte Eyre (children’s editor at The Bookseller) said, “TikTok is about conveying the emotion” felt while reading the book. Author Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, an avid consumer of BookTok videos, says, “I really like living through [BookTok readers] as they’re experiencing the emotions.”

TikTok remains a positive place for young people.

TikTok creator Faith Young, whose audience is 97% women, said, “I sort of describe it as the last wholesome place on the internet. It’s just become this safe haven for young women.” Young, who is 22, described growing up as an uncool teenager who spent all of her time reading books in the library. She then discovered her people on TikTok. Georgia Henry, a children’s specialist campaign manager at Rocket (a UK marketing agency), said that, given her job, she hardly ever has time to pick up a book for relaxation, but whenever she goes on BookTok, “I just want to curl up with a cup of tea and open a book and lose myself in a book, and it’s just really inspiring.” Young audiences are now walking into bookstores and libraries in significant numbers to buy and read books. (If you haven’t visited a brick-and-mortar store lately, try it. You are sure to find a display based on BookTok.)

TikTok has made it easy for everyday people to become book influencers—and for authors to reach different audiences. Young had been on the platform for only four days (at @hellyeahbooks) when her video discussing why she loves enemies-to-lovers books went viral and quickly turned her into a BookTok star. People loved her video, she said, because they felt seen. Young said she had always wanted to “join the book influencer world,” but she didn’t have the patience to learn how to edit YouTube videos or do fancy photography. But TikTok was user friendly. “You don’t have to have a degree in video editing to be able to make a TikTok,” she said. However, whether your video will take off is hard to predict; having a strong following doesn’t mean your video will get seen. “TikTok is so much luck of the draw,” Young said. The platform’s algorithm looks closely at what users watch and like, then tries to find things specifically suited to their interests. The content shown is not driven primarily or only by who you follow. Àbíké-Íyímídé said, “As an author, it really has helped in building a different connection with different audiences.”

However, as with all social media, TikTok requires authenticity and may come more naturally to younger authors. Àbíké-Íyímídé said that posting on TikTok feels like an extension of her overall creator skills—skills she’s built up over time as a Gen Z author. She and her author-peers are using what they know about internet culture and applying it to their publishing careers in how they talk about books and engage with readers online. “Especially as Gen Z we can see when something is inauthentic,” Àbíké-Íyímídé said.

Publishers can use the platform organically and succeed. 

Young said that one of the first accounts she followed on TikTok was Penguin Teen because they have a designated person who creates their social media posts and also shares about her own life. “An important part of TikTok is feeling like you know the people that you follow,” Young said. “It wouldn’t work if [publishers] have loads of different people creating videos.” Similarly, she really likes the content coming out of Sourcebooks Fire, one of her favorite publishers. “They recently casted—no, hired—a new head of social media, and she already had a big following on TikTok, and she now runs their TikTok, and that felt very authentic and I really like their videos.”

Parting advice

Henry, who has worked with many different publishers and authors to create TikTok campaigns, said that if you’re going to have a presence on TikTok, you need to have a voice and commit to it. You can’t just repurpose your Instagram stories (or other social media) and pop that on TikTok—there would be no point. TikTok content needs to be “homemade” and have a human behind it who people can connect with. It can’t be shunted off to an intern or content team. Henry also said that publishers and authors shouldn’t plan ahead too much on their TikTok marketing because you need flexibility to jump on the platform’s current trends, e.g., a song or meme that’s trending.

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