Will Raywood, author

Is the Book Market in Crisis? What Authors Need to Know

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Nobody buys books anymore! Publishing is collapsing! Authors can’t make a living! We hear claims like that all the time. But are any of them true?

Here’s a question for you: which do you think is bigger, the global box office or the book market? Stick around until the end for the answer.

But first, let’s look at a couple of revealing numbers. This year, the global book market exceeded $150 billion and is projected to grow to $224 billion by 2034.

That’s enormous.

In the United States alone, people buy more than a billion books every year across print, digital, and audio formats. Huge opportunities exist for informed writers. The key word here is informed. Very few authors know where to look for those opportunities.

Yet we constantly hear alarming reports that publishing is in crisis and authors can no longer make a living from their work. On the surface, we seem to have three competing narratives.

  • Readership is supposedly declining.
  • Author incomes are reportedly falling.
  • The book market remains surprisingly resilient and continues to create new opportunities.

So which is it?

Is the Book Market in Crisis?

Let’s start with the first claim. The number of young people reading for pleasure does appear to be dropping. The survey data tells a sobering story. Among teenagers, daily reading for fun fell from 27% to 14% in just a decade. One scientific study also found that the proportion of young adults who read for pleasure declined by roughly 3% per year.

At the same time, we keep hearing that author incomes have taken a nosedive. According to the Authors Guild, the median income for writers has fallen below the poverty line.

To quote their report, “half of all full-time authors continue to earn below minimum wage in many states from all their writing-related work.” The report also notes that “most authors are earning half of their writing-related income from sources other than their books.”

Authors in the UK and other English-speaking markets do not appear to be faring better. To make matters worse, a survey conducted by the Society of Authors found that 86% of respondents believe generative AI has already reduced their earnings, while 65% expect their income to fall even further. Seventy-two percent report fewer job opportunities, and a worrying 57% say their career is no longer sustainable.

But don’t let those figures drag you into the doom-and-gloom pit just yet. Because this is where things get interesting. In fact, it may represent a golden opportunity.

Opportunities for Authors

When surveys track declining reading habits, they are measuring the fall of casual reading. Meanwhile, many genre-fiction niches are thriving. The lesson is simple: stop trying to appeal to the general public and start looking for highly focused communities of passionate readers. We’ll come back to that point in a moment.

But what about those dramatic declines in author income? Here’s where the picture becomes more complicated.

I agree with publishing expert Jane Friedman, who has argued that author-income surveys can be misleading. They capture the financial decline of a twentieth-century publishing model rather than the reality faced by modern authors who have adapted to new opportunities.

Friedman points out that many respondents in recent surveys reported little or no income at all. Once those respondents are filtered out, the median income of full-time authors increased by 13% since 2013.

That finding aligns with research commissioned by the Alliance of Independent Authors, which reported rising author incomes and found that nearly one in five respondents was running a six-figure publishing business.

Now, I’m not suggesting that indie authors are thriving while traditionally published authors are doomed. Both paths remain viable.

But there is an uncomfortable reality we need to acknowledge. Traditional publishers generate a large share of their revenue from a small number of bestselling titles and major intellectual properties. Debut novels, by contrast, often sell only a few hundred copies.

Why?

Some people blame market saturation. After all, millions of books are published every year. Yet at the same time, thousands of enthusiastic readers complain that they can’t find enough books they want to read.

It sounds paradoxical, doesn’t it?

The truth is that not everyone likes bestsellers. I know I don’t. I analyze bestselling books for research purposes, but the novels I read for pleasure are written by authors you’ve probably never heard of. And honestly, I can’t get enough of them.

This apparent market saturation is actually a golden opportunity for you. Imagine a group of people stranded at sea on a raft. They are dying of thirst despite being surrounded by water. Many readers find themselves in a similar situation. There are more books available than ever before, yet discovering stories they enjoy has become increasingly difficult.

The authors earning six-figure incomes are not always the most talented. More often, they are the ones who understand how to reach a specific readership and consistently deliver the kinds of stories that readership wants to read.

Write to Market: A Solution Trap?

Now, I’m not suggesting you should write to market. In fact, I’d argue the opposite.

Many writers fail not because their books are poor, but because they spend years chasing trends. By the time they finish writing a book that follows a popular wave, that wave has often passed. If you want to benefit from emerging trends, you need to identify promising niches before they reach the mainstream.

Think about superhero fiction. I recall a time when it appealed to a relatively small community of nerds. Today, it fuels a multi-billion-dollar entertainment industry.

Crime fiction offers another example. Historically themed thrillers were once considered a niche interest, with authors such as Umberto Eco standing out as rare success stories. Then The Da Vinci Code became a global phenomenon, and suddenly bookshelves overflowed with novels about secret societies, Templars, ancient conspiracies, and hidden artefacts. Soon after, reader tastes shifted again, giving rise to psychological thrillers and domestic noir.

Changes in reader preferences often explain the sudden rise of unknown or midlist authors.

Take fantasy. For years, readers were drawn to the escapist appeal of epic quests and heroic adventures. Then, at the start of the twenty-first century, many readers began craving something darker, grittier, and more realistic. That shift helped propel authors such as George R. R. Martin from relative obscurity into the global spotlight.

So how do you spot an emerging niche?

One of the simplest methods is to study bestseller lists, such as the USA Today Top 150 or Amazon’s rankings. But don’t stop at the top ten or twenty titles. Dig deeper.

You might notice, for example, a LitRPG novel sitting in Amazon’s Top 100. Follow that trail, and you could discover a thriving community of dedicated readers that most writers know nothing about.

Many authors look only at broad categories like fantasy, romance, mystery, or science fiction. That’s a mistake. The real opportunities often hide in subgenres.

Look beyond Amazon as well. Explore Goodreads, BookBub, Kickstarter, genre-specific communities, and other digital spaces where passionate readers gather.

Exercise

Here’s an exercise for you. Using the method I just described, identify three promising niches that receive little mainstream attention. Then take it a step further and find the communities built around them. You’ll find them on Goodreads, Reddit, Discord, Facebook groups, and countless niche forums.

Join the conversation. Observe what people are excited about. Learn what they love, what frustrates them, and what kinds of stories they can’t seem to find. Who knows? You might discover your tribe. At the very least, you’ll meet like-minded readers and writers who share your interests.

Why Authors Need a Strategy

Rather than writing to market, I advocate something I call strategic convergence. It’s the point where your deepest creative obsessions intersect with a passionate, identifiable audience.

Many writers make the mistake of jumping into a hot niche they barely understand. That’s one of the fastest ways to alienate readers. To succeed, you need a genuine understanding of both the subgenre and the people who love it.

Do you know the ultimate weapon for standing out in a crowded marketplace?

Authenticity.

Book cover: Trust Your Story: Master Storytelling and Build a Successful Creative Writing Career by Will Raywood

But authenticity is not the same thing as trying to be original at all costs. After analyzing more than a hundred successful books, I’ve noticed something interesting. They differ in style, genre, tone, and subject matter, yet they all seem to find the same balance: a sweet spot between originality and convention.

Enough familiarity to attract readers. Enough novelty to surprise them.

How to find that balance is the central focus of my research and writing. There is science behind it, and it’s a much bigger topic than I can cover here. If you’d like to explore it further, check out my writing guides.

Revenue Diversification

The other crucial element of a successful author strategy is revenue diversification. Never rely entirely on royalties. They’re notoriously unpredictable.

A recent Authors Guild study found that only 25% of readers purchase a new print book or e-book. That doesn’t mean authors can no longer earn a good living. It means the business model is changing, and writers need to adapt.

Subscription services, for example, have become increasingly important for both e-books and audiobooks. If your books gain traction through Kindle Unlimited, you may earn more from page reads than from direct sales. And that is only one example of how publishing is evolving.

If you dream of turning creative writing into a full‑time job, here’s my advice: don’t rely on royalties alone. Book sales are unpredictable—they always have been. In her book The Business of Being a Writer, Jane Friedman shares revealing figures showing that royalties make up only a small percentage of her annual income. That’s normal. It’s true for me as well and for many successful writers I know.

The good news is that authors have never had more tools to build a community around their work and monetize it. Crowdfunding and subscription models are just two examples of income streams that can complement royalties.

Many authors use crowdfunding to cover editing, cover design, formatting, even research trips. You don’t need millions to make your dream possible, but you do need a community of readers willing to support you.

Mailing lists and subscription platforms are another powerful tool. Andy Weir, author of The Martian, began by posting serialized fiction on his website and built a following of about three thousand readers. That core audience was the engine behind The Martian’s early success on Amazon.

Weir is a great example because his book took off with almost no self‑promotion. He didn’t spam social media, a habit far too common among writers today. The truth is, blatant self‑promotion doesn’t work. But when you have a loyal, enthusiastic following, your readers will promote your work for you.

Today, writers have access to platforms that make it easier than ever to share content, grow a mailing list, and even monetize serialized fiction through subscriptions. Substack is one such platform, attracting high‑profile authors like Salman Rushdie and Margaret Atwood. Building a following may feel daunting, but the prerequisite is simple: you must be part of the community you hope to reach.

Which is bigger: the global box office or the global book market?

So, let’s answer the question I asked at the beginning. Which is bigger: the global box office or the global book market?

Ready? Ta-da!

The global book market is roughly four to five times larger than the global box office. In other words, publishing remains a giant of the entertainment industry. So much for the idea that nobody buys books anymore.

The reality is far more nuanced. Yes, readers’ habits are changing. Yes, some sectors of publishing face serious challenges. And yes, many authors struggle to earn a living. But at the same time, enormous opportunities exist for writers who understand where the market is growing, where passionate readers gather, and how to connect the right stories with the right audiences.

And we’ve only scratched the surface today. We haven’t touched on the success of audiobooks, the growth of new international markets, and a host of other developments that are reshaping the industry. Those are topics for future posts.

So, what’s your view on the future of publishing? Do you think the industry is in decline, transforming, or entering a new golden age? Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Do You Have the Right Protagonist? 4 Tests Your Character Must Pass

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How do you know your story has the right protagonist? After analyzing over a hundred bestselling novels, I discovered that even famous writers struggled with this question. (Even if you’ve watched the video, check out the article below. At the end, you’ll find an interesting case study: what happens when your story doesn’t have a protagonist?)

In the first draft of Jurassic Park, Michael Crichton told the story through Hammond’s grandchildren. Early readers hated it. He rewrote the book twice, and those versions still didn’t work… until one reader suggested telling the story from an adult point of view. That did the trick.

So how do you choose the right lead for your book? It has nothing to do with their looks or cool backstory. There’s science behind this, and most writers don’t even know it exists. These are the four tests your character must pass to qualify for the lead role.

Test 1: Story Type Fit Test

The first question to ask is this: what kind of story am I telling? Every story follows a natural pattern, an archetype. Joseph Campbell described one of them in The Hero with a Thousand Faces: the Hero’s Journey. That’s just one of many. You’ll find descriptions of the major story types, with examples, in my writing guides.

Stories about ordinary people thrown into extraordinary circumstances have been popular for centuries. Think Gulliver’s Travels, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz. This archetype is called Fish Out of Water. Alice is just a Victorian girl with a vivid imagination; nothing remarkable about her until she tumbles into a world of talking rabbits and mad hatters. An ordinary protagonist becomes our eyes and ears in that world: they ask the questions we would ask, make the mistakes we would make, and react with the same bewilderment we’d feel.

The Hero’s Journey also benefits from a humble, likable protagonist. Tolkien’s genius was to make hobbits the heroes of The Lord of the Rings. Frodo would much rather enjoy a second breakfast than save Middle‑earth. His reluctance and eventual courage make him more compelling than a conventional hero like Aragorn.

A common misconception is that the protagonist must be “relatable” in the sense of ordinary and likable. Relatable doesn’t always mean ordinary. A skilled storyteller can make almost any character relatable, even the strange, the monstrous, or the morally ambiguous.

That brings us to the Superhuman or larger‑than‑life protagonist. Sherlock Holmes is brilliant, eccentric, and often abrasive; he’s not someone you’d invite for a pint, but his aloofness and intellect are precisely what make him fascinating. In a modern example, Amy Dunne in Gone Girl is calculating and morally ambiguous, yet her psychological complexity drives the novel’s success.

Some protagonists become beloved despite being unlikeable at first. Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind is selfish and manipulative, yet her determination makes her unforgettable. Lisbeth Salander in Stieg Larsson’s Millennium series is a brilliant, damaged hacker who’s hardly a people person, but her brilliance and ferocity make her riveting.

So, to pass this test, your protagonist must fit the story’s archetype. If you’re writing a Hero’s Journey or a Fish‑Out‑of‑Water tale, an ordinary, sympathetic protagonist usually works best. If you’re writing a Superhuman story, make your protagonist larger‑than‑life. Dial their strangeness and quirkiness all the way up.

Test 2: Personal Stakes Test

Margaret Atwood wrote,

In Paradise there are no stories, because there are no journeys. It’s loss and regret and misery and yearning that drive the story forward, along its twisted road.

No matter how flamboyant your characters are, readers will eventually tire of them if they don’t have skin in the game. Bestsellers aren’t built on memorable personalities alone; they endure because they evoke specific emotions. And nothing creates stronger emotional engagement than a character confronting a problem that matters deeply to them. Psychologists call this affective investment.

In The Hunger Games, Katniss carries heavier stakes than anyone else in the narrative. First she volunteers to save her sister. Then she must fight for her own survival. Later, as she becomes the reluctant symbol of a rebellion, her personal stakes fuse with the fate of an entire nation. Her journey is compelling because every step costs her something.

Or think back to Jurassic Park. Why does Dr. Alan Grant work better as a protagonist than Hammond’s grandchildren? With children at the center, the story becomes a straightforward tale of survival. Grant, however, has far more to lose. He has devoted his life to studying extinct creatures, and suddenly he’s standing in front of living dinosaurs, something beyond his wildest dreams. That miracle is precisely what puts him at the heart of the story’s dramatic question: Is it ethical to resurrect extinct species?

So, whatever genre you’re writing, ask yourself: Does your protagonist have personal, emotional stakes in the main conflict? If not, find a way to give them something meaningful to lose—or consider choosing a different protagonist.

Test 3: Thematic Fit Test

A gripping story depends on the synergy between its four essential elements: setting, theme, protagonist, and plot. If you’ve read my articles on the 4Ps method, you already know this. The protagonist who best serves your story is the one who embodies its central idea, the ethical dilemma or thematic question at the heart of the narrative.

Carrie is a good example. She carries every thematic element of Stephen King’s novel inside her: social isolation, shame, fear of her own body. These form her internal conflict, the demons she must confront. Add the external pressure of relentless bullying and you get a psychological drama whose emotional core lives within its protagonist. The themes of Carrie go beyond “latent powers.” A teenage girl facing this combination of internal and external pressures is the only protagonist who could make those themes resonate. King later said that Carrie taught him how to write female protagonists and how to trust stories that feel uncomfortable.

But we also have plenty of examples where a story suffers because the protagonist fails the thematic fit test. This often happens in film and TV adaptations that drift away from the thematic core of the source material.

A typical case is the decline of The Witcher TV adaptation. Geralt is the perfect protagonist for that gritty, morally ambiguous world. As a mutant and eternal outsider, he walks between worlds, trusted by none, needed by all. He embodies the series’ dramatic question: can a person remain moral in a world where every choice causes harm?

In Season 1, Yennefer also worked as a central character because she was portrayed as complex and conflicted, torn between her thirst for power and her desire to preserve her humanity. But by Season 4, much of that complexity had vanished. The writers sidelined the titular Witcher and placed Yennefer at the head of a league of mages in a simplified, cliché version of empowerment. Once the show drifted away from the character who embodied its thematic core, the spectacle—no matter how epic—suddenly felt hollow.

So in your own stories, ask yourself whether your protagonist embodies the main theme or ethical dilemma at the center of your narrative. If not, either recast the protagonist so they personify that theme, or choose a different protagonist who already carries it.

Test 4: Agency Test

Before we talk about agency, it helps to clarify the difference between protagonist, point‑of‑view character, and narrator. A single character can fill all three roles, but many stories split them. In Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff is the protagonist because his actions drive the plot. Nelly Dean is the point‑of‑view character because she witnesses the events. Lockwood narrates the opening chapters, then Nelly takes over as the primary storyteller.

To pass the Agency Test, the protagonist must be the one who makes the crucial decisions that lead to the story’s resolution.

Take Dune. Paul Atreides begins the novel with limited agency; he’s a passive participant as House Atreides takes control of Arrakis. But after the Harkonnen attack, Paul must step forward. He chooses to develop his abilities, ally with the Fremen, and lead an uprising. Other characters influence him, but he makes the decisive choices that determine the fate of Arrakis. That’s why Paul, not Jessica or Chani, is the correct protagonist.

A simple diagnostic question reveals whether your protagonist has true agency:

Does the character make the crucial decision that resolves the story’s main conflict?

If the answer is no, the climax risks feeling unearned. Imagine a detective hunting a dangerous criminal. If he finds the key clue by accident, or the villain suddenly surrenders, readers feel cheated. The resolution didn’t arise from the detective’s skills and choices. Likewise, if the story ends in a shootout and the cavalry arrives to save the day, the protagonist hasn’t earned the victory.

Agency is the spine of a satisfying climax. In short: the protagonist must earn the ending. If your protagonist passes all four tests, congratulations! What’s your favorite main character and why do you think they’re a great fit for their story? Let me know in the comments.

What Happens When You Don’t Have a Protagonist?

That’s a legitimate question to ask. Let’s imagine you have several candidates for the lead role. Do you have to choose one?

The short answer is: not necessarily.

Who is the protagonist of George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire? Jon Snow? Daenerys? Tyrion? Arya?

When Martin began writing A Game of Thrones, he intended Jon Snow to be the protagonist. But Martin is a discovery writer rather than an outliner, and instead of following a predetermined plot, he allowed the story to evolve organically. As a result, some characters took on a life of their own and expanded far beyond their original roles. Over time, the series evolved from a story centered on a single protagonist into an ensemble narrative.

If you’re a fan of TV shows such as Friends, The Office, or Brooklyn Nine-Nine, you already know that a story can work beautifully without a single lead character. One advantage of this approach is that readers or viewers are more likely to find a character they strongly identify with. A larger cast offers more points of connection.

That said, novels play by different rules than visual media. Bestselling books without a clear protagonist exist, but they’re the exception rather than the rule. The reason is psychological, and goal-tracking theory provides the explanation.

When readers open a novel, they want to go on an emotional journey. The human brain acts as a goal-tracking machine, so stories tend to work best when a single character’s wants and needs provide a clear focal point. A protagonist supplies that focus.

Frodo must destroy the Ring. Katniss must survive the Hunger Games and later help spark a rebellion. Alan Grant must use his expertise in palaeontology to survive Jurassic Park and protect those in his care.

Without a clear protagonist, readers must track multiple competing goals, which increases cognitive load. Sitcoms can get away with this because they’re relationship-centred. Instead of following a single overarching goal, viewers are engaged by the interactions within a social group.

In many episodic TV shows, the real protagonist is the group itself.

But imagine you had to write a novelisation of your favourite sitcom. Which character would you choose as the protagonist, and why? Pick any show with multiple main characters and let me know in the comments. I’m curious to hear your reasoning!

Does Your Chapter 1 Pass these 4 Tests?

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Look at the breakout novels that took the world by storm. At first glance, those bestsellers don’t seem to have much in common. Different genres, wildly different writing styles. Yet they all share a few elements that explain their success, that secret sauce that propelled their authors from obscurity to fame.

I’ve analyzed over a hundred bestsellers and reached a surprising conclusion. Their success has little to do with writing quality or plot. It’s not marketing either. It’s deeper than that: these novels hack readers’ brains. A high‑concept premise is just the starting point; what matters are the psychological triggers that seize readers’ attention and make us compulsively turn the pages.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: you have seconds to hook your readers. Yes, seconds. If the cover and blurb spark their curiosity, they’ll glance at the first page. That first page is prime real estate; you can’t afford to waste the chance to pull them into your story.

Take the opening lines of The Hunger Games:

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course she did. This is the day of the reaping.

Here Suzanne Collins uses a well‑known psychological technique: anxiety induction. The very first line — “the other side of the bed is cold” — triggers anticipatory anxiety. The reader senses something is wrong before knowing why. She also uses attachment activation, introducing cues around Prim that create vulnerability and dependence while hinting at danger. That sparks empathy, making the reader care about her even though we know almost nothing.

It’s also a sharp example of cognitive dissonance fueling curiosity. The world feels familiar, yet something is clearly off. Something ominous is approaching: the reaping. Many authors would rush to explain what that means, but doing so would kill the suspense. Collins lets the mystery linger, revealing clues gradually. It’s an elegant way to immerse the reader while avoiding infodumps.

You don’t need a PhD in psychology to use these techniques. Once you demystify them, they’re surprisingly straightforward.

So, to ensure your opening chapter hooks the reader, here are the four tests it must pass.

Test 1: The Curiosity Trigger

Does your first chapter plant a question in the reader’s mind? Does it create mystery and suspense? Information gaps make us uncomfortable, and the brain itches for answers. Finding those answers releases dopamine, the “feel‑good” hormone.

Reading isn’t passive. The reader’s brain actively constructs the story world as it unfolds, so you must make them a participant. Reward their attention. Plant subtle clues they can pick up and assemble later.

Consider the opening lines of The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern:

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it, no paper notices on downtown posts and billboards, no mentions or advertisements in local newspapers. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not.

The circus appears as a mysterious, almost impossible phenomenon, arriving without warning, opening only at night, governed by rules the reader doesn’t yet understand.

‘What kind of circus is only open at night?’ people ask. No one has a proper answer, yet as dusk approaches there is a substantial crowd of spectators gathering outside the gates. You are amongst them, of course. Your curiosity got the better of you, as curiosity is wont to do. You stand in the fading light, the scarf around your neck pulled up against the chilly evening breeze, waiting to see for yourself exactly what kind of cir… the sun sets.

See how Morgenstern makes you a participant? You’re pulled into the scene, compelled to uncover the secret.

Another example: Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn.

The chapter opens with Nick describing Amy in a way that feels affectionate yet subtly wrong:

Like a child, I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts. ‘What are you thinking,’ Amy?

The opening hints at the psychological warfare to come. We intuitively sense this isn’t a pure, loving relationship. And when the chapter ends with Amy’s disappearance, Flynn creates an information gap that drives the entire story.

Test 2: The Emotional Hook

Let’s do a quick quiz. In a novel, which opening scene is more likely to engage the audience:

  • A. Exposition of a highly original idea
  • B. A long description written in a lush literary style
  • C. A character facing a difficult situation

If you answered C, we agree. Any story — fictional or otherwise — is more likely to achieve immediate engagement by putting the audience in the shoes of a person facing a problem.

Why do we care about fictional people? Neuroscience has the answer. We are a gregarious species, hardwired for empathy. This ability lets us connect emotionally and imagine ourselves in someone else’s situation. Empathy isn’t a mere evolutionary byproduct; it’s humanity’s superpower. It enables us to form cohesive groups and collaborate in ways that make the whole greater than the sum of its parts.

Readers engage when they feel affective investment, blend of empathy, concern, and anticipation about what might happen to the characters.

Does your opening chapter trigger affective investment?

You have many ways to achieve this. In The Martian by Andy Weir, the entire premise rests on the protagonist’s predicament: alone, stranded on Mars, with little hope of survival or rescue.

Another proven method is showing a vulnerable character being treated unfairly. A classic example is the first Harry Potter book, where readers can’t help but sympathize with an orphan suffering under the cruelty of his adoptive family… yet we also sense he’s gifted, and the first chapter plants clues about his extraordinary destiny.

Yes, this technique has been overused, especially in young‑adult fiction, but you can still make it powerful by flipping the cliché. In Gone Girl, Amy’s diary entries present her as vulnerable and endangered, but that vulnerability is a crafted manipulation. In The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Lisbeth’s vulnerability stems from a corrupt guardianship system, yet she isn’t fragile; she’s brilliant, furious, even dangerous.

The originality lies in how the character responds to their vulnerability and the injustices done to them. The technique hasn’t lost its power, but if you use it, give it a fresh angle. And please, don’t recycle the orphan‑destined‑for‑greatness trope. We’ve had enough of those…

Test 3: The Atmospheric Grip

While some first chapters drown in overly long descriptions, others suffer from the opposite problem: the White Room Syndrome. From the opening paragraphs, you must trigger what’s known as narrative transportation, that state where we’re so immersed in the story we forget we’re reading a book and begin living it alongside the characters.

Narrative transportation requires a sense of place; scenes don’t unfold in a vacuum. The most effective way to achieve this is by appealing to the reader’s senses: visuals, sounds, smells, and even taste, touch, and physical sensations.

As King puts it, “Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.”

Your first page should also set the mood. In The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, the narrator’s guilt and longing for childhood friendship create emotional dissonance: nostalgia braided with shame.

I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek.

See how Hosseini establishes mood with just a handful of sensory details: a “frigid overcast day,” a “crumbling mud wall,” a “frozen creek.” The opening activates self‑referential empathy, where readers map their own childhood relationships onto the narrator’s.

Test 4: Setting Expectations

If your first chapter passed the first three tests, congratulations! You’re on the right track. You’ve planted an intriguing question, sparked affective investment, and triggered narrative transportation by establishing a sense of place and mood.

But the last test is the hardest, and it’s where many debut writers stumble.

Does your first chapter give the reader an accurate idea of what to expect from the book? They must feel immediately that this is a book for them. A great opening doesn’t just hook; it tells the reader what kind of experience they’re signing up for. That’s self‑selection.

Don’t assume genre‑priming alone will do the job. A murder doesn’t just mean detective fiction. A haunted castle doesn’t guarantee horror. A spaceship doesn’t define space opera. And there is much more to fantasy than magic. Genre tropes are signals, but they’re not the whole message.

Game of Thrones and The Night Circus are both fantasy, yet they deliver very different experiences. The opening of Game of Thrones makes it clear we’re entering a gritty saga grounded in medieval realism, not a dreamy romantic adventure.

Gone Girl and The Da Vinci Code are both thrillers, but they couldn’t be more different in structure, tone, pacing, psychology, or worldview. The Da Vinci Code is an escapist, plot‑driven conspiracy thriller inspired by historical figures and events; Gone Girl is rooted in cold psychological realism.

In sci‑fi, the optimism and problem‑solving energy of The Martian contrast with the gritty neo‑noir atmosphere of The Expanse series.

Bestsellers share only one trait: they are all different. Each has a distinct identity and offers a unique experience… and that identity must be apparent from the very first chapter.

If you’re wondering how bestselling authors come up with original ideas, or if you want to test your own concepts, check out my posts on those topics.

But regardless of your genre or premise, follow this paradoxical advice: if you think there’s something in your book that might deter some readers, don’t hide it. Show it from the start. From page one, if you can. Yes, you’ll lose a few sales, but those readers won’t become your fans anyway, and you’ll spare yourself negative reviews.

I can’t stress this enough: deep knowledge of your audience and their expectations is crucial to your career. Writing good books isn’t enough in today’s crowded market. Your work must stand out and grab the attention of your target audience—that’s the first prerequisite for long‑term success.

So, what are your favorite techniques for hooking your readers? Let me know in the comments.

Why Gen‑AI Books Fail: 5 Reasons to Avoid the Hype and A Better Strategy

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A new breed of “writer” now boasts they can crank out an entire book in under an hour with generative AI. Some even claim they’re pulling six figures selling these AI generated “masterpieces.” As a veteran writer who has bled for my craft, I decided to investigate. My conclusion is unambiguous: handing your career to a chatbot is the worst decision you can make.

Let me walk you through five reasons to avoid AI-generated books and show you a far better way to build a writing life that feeds both your creativity and your bank account.

Let’s start with the big one: AI‑generated text isn’t copyrightable. I’m no lawyer, but I’ve been writing and publishing long enough to tell you this: an AI‑generated book is not your creation, no matter how lovingly you sprinkle your “personal touch” over it.

Gen-AI output is public domain. Period. This isn’t writing; it’s the digital equivalent of copying Pride and Prejudice, changing a few character names, and slapping your own on the cover.

I can already hear the protest: “But how would anyone know?”

Sure, AI detectors are unreliable. And yes, copyright offices won’t scan your manuscript and shout, “Aha! Robot!” But here’s the part people conveniently ignore. Want to publish traditionally? Literary agents read thousands of submissions a year. You think they can’t smell a machine‑generated manuscript from the first page? Do you honestly believe they can’t tell the difference between a unique, compelling voice and the recycled prose churned out by a chatbot?

Even if you do manage to fool them—if you land a deal and they find out later—publishers will sue you for breaching your warranty of authorship.

Recently, a major publisher canceled a bestselling novel over suspected AI use. In the wake of that scandal, publishers are becoming more vigilant, especially when considering contracts for new writers. The scrutiny is increasing, and authors now face a very different landscape than they did even a year ago.

“Fine,” you say, “I’ll self‑publish.” Go ahead. Amazon’s KDP platform requires you to disclose AI-generated content.

“So what?” you counter. “They don’t publicly label AI books… yet.”

You’re gambling your entire career on that little word: yet. Author guilds and regulators are breathing down platforms’ necks, demanding transparency; the day mandatory labeling arrives, every AI‑generated title will be stamped second‑class.

The AI hustlers will tell you, “Readers won’t care if the book is good,” but here’s the truth: readers do care.

Take the now‑infamous New York Times article “The New Fabio Is Claude,” where a writer named Coral Hart bragged about self‑publishing over 200 romance novels in a single year using AI. I checked her Amazon and Goodreads pages and… oh boy. Read my article on this topic here. My point is, you cannot build a sustainable career with reviews that look like a crime scene.

Oh, I get it; the allure of cranking out an entire novel with gen-AI in a single day is hard to resist. But consider what that choice does to you as a creative person. The truth is simple: the only way to become a writer is to write. There’s no shortcut, no way around it. You become a writer by reading, studying, practicing, by wrestling with sentences and, over time, discovering your own voice.

AI sidesteps that entire journey. It’s like wanting to be a bodybuilder but letting a robot lift the weights for you. You never develop the muscle of storytelling. Instead of learning, you’re stagnating in a void of incompetence, forever dependent on the machine.

Take that shortcut, and you’re setting yourself up for inevitable imposter syndrome. You might hold a book with your name on it, but deep down, you’ll know it isn’t truly yours. Even praise will feel hollow, unearned. You’ll feel like a fraud, waiting for the moment everything unravels.

“But I don’t have time to write,” you might say. Here’s the good news: you don’t need AI to write faster, write well, or even build a six-figure income. Indie authors were publishing multiple novels a year even before AI. Writing quickly without sacrificing quality is a skill, one anyone can learn. It takes discipline, yes, but so does anything worth doing. Athletes don’t win Olympic gold training casually on weekends, and musicians don’t become virtuosos without thousands of hours of focused practice.

Jamie Genius Writes a Novel, a satirical novella by Will Raywood

You can build a writing career alongside a full-time job and a busy family life. Check out my articles about Stephen King’s routine and Brandon Sanderson’s drafting method. I share proven techniques to boost your productivity and help you finish books in months, even weeks. These will be your stories, your voice, authentic work that resonates emotionally with readers and sets you up for lasting success.

Still not convinced? If you want a hilarious glimpse of what happens when a would-be novelist outsources his magnum opus to AI, check out my novella Jamie Genius Writes a Novel.

Come for the comedy, stay for the cautionary tale.

So tell me, what’s your take on AI‑generated novels? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

The Real Secret Behind Andy Weir’s Self‑Publishing Success

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Before The Martian climbed bestseller lists, before Hollywood came calling, Andy Weir reached a moment that should’ve ended his writing career. Instead, it set everything in motion, and the reason why says a lot about how creative success really works.

In the wake of Project Hail Mary’s massive success, it’s worth revisiting the origin story behind one of sci‑fi’s most unlikely icons.

A Childhood Dream and an Unexpected Opportunity

Andy Weir had dreamed of becoming a writer since childhood, but fearing that creative writing wouldn’t pay the bills, he went into engineering instead. Then opportunity arrived in the strangest way: he was laid off… and discovered his stock options were worth a fortune. So he made a bold decision. He quit engineering to pursue his dream of writing a novel.

He spent three years on that manuscript and tried to get it published. But no, it wasn’t The Martian, or anything you’ve read. That first book didn’t get a single bite from agents or publishers. Discouraged, Andy returned to programming, but he didn’t stop writing. He posted serialized fiction on his website, juggling three projects at once, The Martian being one of them.

Mark Watney, Andy’s Alter Ego, or Optimism in the Face of Rejection

When Andy began writing The Martian, he wasn’t chasing a career. He wasn’t thinking about agents, publishers, or Hollywood. He was simply a man alone with a story, and in a strange way, he wasn’t so different from his protagonist.

Mark Watney is stranded on Mars, cut off from the world, relying on his wits and stubborn optimism to survive. And Andy, sitting at his desk after years of rejection, was doing something similar. He was writing into the void, unsure if anyone would ever read his work.

Maybe that’s why Mark feels so alive on the page—he’s Andy’s alter ego. His humor, resilience, and refusal to give up even when the situation looks hopeless are reflections of Andy’s own creative spark. Through Mark, readers connected emotionally with the author himself, and that connection is the foundation of audience engagement.

The Martian became a hit first with Andy’s readers, who eventually urged him to publish it on Amazon. You know what happened next: the book exploded, caught the attention of a major publisher, and soon after, a film studio. When Ridley Scott signed on to direct, it felt like a crowning moment.

But Andy isn’t someone who always had it easy. Many writers collapse under rejection and give up before trying an alternative path. Andy didn’t. When he wrote The Martian, he carried his optimism with him despite earlier failures.

Humanizing Hard Sci‑Fi

And here’s the part that’s easy to overlook: the novel didn’t take off overnight. Andy spent years building a loyal following before self‑publishing. That community was key. He didn’t write for everyone; he wrote for readers who shared his passion for hard science fiction and wanted stories grounded in real engineering.

Of course, he didn’t invent the subgenre. Mars Trilogy by Kim Stanley Robinson was already a classic. But Andy brought something different: he humanized hard sci‑fi. He made it warm, accessible, often hilarious.

In The Martian, he drops us into the shoes of a protagonist facing an impossible situation—key to instant emotional engagement. The plot itself is simple: a man-versus-nature survival story, essentially Robinson Crusoe on another planet. Andy didn’t rely on a complex plot or elaborate character arcs. Instead, he built a chain of problems, each life‑threatening, each solution creating new challenges. And crucially, he avoided the trap of over‑explaining. Like any skilled storyteller, he gave readers just enough technical detail to follow the story without drowning them in information.

Quality Over Quantity

Andy’s path to publishing was unusual, but not unique, and it offers valuable lessons. In the age of AI, some indie‑publishing gurus insist that success is all about quantity. But Andy needed just one book to break through. You can publish a thousand titles, but if none resonate, your career won’t take off.

Quality matters more than quantity. While publishing his serialized fiction, Andy listened to reader feedback and revised his work. By the time The Martian hit Amazon, it was polished and battle‑tested.

Andy’s journey reminds us that success often arrives when we stop chasing it. Writers are notoriously bad at predicting which of their stories will take off. You can’t engineer a bestseller. It’s out of your control, and trying too hard can smother creativity.

The most valuable lesson I took from Andy’s story is this: stay positive, even in hardship. The joy of creating should be its own reward. That’s how you keep the creative flame alive and build a sustainable writing life.

And of course, Andy didn’t stop with The Martian. Project Hail Mary may be his most successful book yet, and the film adaptation does it justice. If you haven’t seen it, do yourself a favor. Whether you love sci‑fi or just a great buddy adventure with wit, heart, and wonder, you’re in for something special.

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So what do you make of Andy’s journey? Was it luck, or was his success inevitable? Let me know in the comments.

5 Ways to Protect Yourself From AI Accusations (Every Writer Needs This)

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A major publisher canceled a bestselling novel over suspected AI use. This is a huge scandal that touches everyone who cares about books: writers, publishers, and readers. In this video, I’ll break down what happened and share five practical tips to help you protect your writing career from the same fate.

How the story unfolded

So, was the book written by a chatbot, or was the author caught up in an AI witch-hunt? It’s a landmark case because it will shape how AI accusations are handled going forward.

The story began like every indie author’s dream. When Mia Ballard self‑published Shy Girl in February 2025, she had no idea the book would explode on TikTok and draw the attention of Hachette. At first it felt like a fairy tale; social media turned an obscure title into a viral hit.

The euphoria didn’t last. The dream became the author’s worst nightmare.

Early Goodreads reviews flagged oddities in the writing. One reviewer noted “bizarre formatting, typos, and repetitive turns of phrase.” That alone doesn’t prove AI use, since large language models don’t usually make typos. But in January 2026, a Reddit post from someone claiming to be a professional editor went viral and asked whether Shy Girl was written by ChatGPT.

The scrutiny grew when a YouTuber posted a detailed analysis titled “I’m pretty sure this book is AI slop.” That video racked up over a million views. Facing a storm of accusations, Mia Ballard denied using AI herself but said an acquaintance who edited her self‑published edition might have run parts of the manuscript through an AI tool.

The founder of the AI detector Pangram ran the book through his system and reported that 78% of the text flagged as AI‑generated. This already wild story took an even stranger turn when another YouTuber said the analysis used a pirated copy of the book, raising questions about the test. Then, The New York Times stepped in, tested passages using multiple AI detectors, and reported patterns consistent with machine-generated writing.

That was the nail in the coffin that condemned the book and shattered a debut writer’s career. Hachette reacted swiftly and decisively: the book was pulled from distribution.

Can we ever know for sure?

We will probably never know for sure whether Shy Girl was AI-generated or only AI-assisted. AI detectors are notoriously unreliable. I tested them on my own writing and they flagged AI in a book I published in 2014, long before generative AI, and I assure you—I don’t own a time machine.

What’s terrifying is how easily any author could find themselves in the same position. Here are five practical tips to reduce that risk.

Five tips to protect your writing career

1. Don’t use AI to draft your manuscript

Don’t use AI to draft your manuscript or any part of it. Even using AI for editing carries risk. A chatbot is no substitute for a professional copyeditor.

The only way to become a writer is to write.

There’s no shortcut, but you can learn to write faster and better. My blog is dedicated to teaching the right techniques to boost your productivity and help you succeed.

2. Document your writing process

Always document your writing process. Keep drafts that show your progress. Word files store useful info; check the Info tab for total editing time. If you can show you spent many hours on a manuscript, that helps prove the work is yours, not AI-generated.

3. Know what tools your editor uses

Never let someone edit your manuscript without knowing whether they used AI. Work with reliable editors who have a track record. Directories like the Editorial Freelancers Association can help. The same goes for cover designers if you self‑publish. Yes, professionals cost money, but indie publishing is a business. If you can’t afford it, consider traditional publishing or crowdfunding. In any case, treat writing as a profession, not a hobby.

4. Join a writers’ organization

Groups like The Authors Guild in the US or The Society of Authors in the UK offer information and support. I’ve been a member of the Society of Authors for over a decade and found it invaluable.

5. Get an agent before signing with a publisher

Get an agent, even in the unlikely scenario that a publisher approaches you directly. To be frank, such situations are very uncommon. If a publisher reaches out, don’t pop the champagne yet—check that the publisher is legitimate.

You can find more on the publishing process and the business side of writing in my guide Trust Your Story. Also, join my newsletter for exclusive writing and publishing tips to help turbocharge your career.

So, what do you think of Hachette’s decision? Leave a comment below.

Can You Outline Like J.K. Rowling? Try My Simple 3‑Step Method

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When I wrote my first novel, I had no idea how to plot. The result? I wasted months rewriting it, going in circles, fixing one problem only to create three more. When I discovered J.K. Rowling’s plot grid, it transformed how I outline my stories.

You know that sinking feeling you get halfway through a draft? The one where the ten brilliant subplots you dreamed up have twisted into a tangled, confusing mess? I’ve been there. J.K. Rowling was, too, until she developed a deceptively simple method that changed everything.

While some writers and theorists spend years searching for the “secret structure” behind great novels, I almost laughed when I first saw Rowling’s handwritten grid. It was so straightforward. But here’s what most people miss when they glance at that now-famous photograph:

Rowling’s secret isn’t the grid itself. It’s how she uses it.

She doesn’t just map the events of the story; she uses the grid to engineer emotional momentum.

Sure, creating a plot grid takes work. It might even look intimidating at first. But trust me, the work you put in upfront will save you months of painful rewrites. This tool helps you write faster, guiding you to a finished draft in weeks instead of months, all while ensuring your story hits every emotional beat.

It’s a double win!

Before we dive in, let’s tackle the fundamental question. Do you even need to outline your story? Can’t you just write by following inspiration wherever it leads? After all, famous writers like Stephen King and George R. R. Martin prove you can find massive success without a detailed plot.

The good news is that Rowling’s technique works for both approaches. Plotters devise a detailed outline before they start drafting. For them, the grid is a blueprint. Discovery writers can do what’s called reverse outlining. After finishing a draft, they create an outline from the existing text. This helps them see the story’s structure at a glance, find plot holes, and ensure every thread makes sense.

A Long History of Visual Outlining

The idea of structuring a story with a visual map is nothing new. Great writers have been doing it for ages. Vladimir Nabokov wrote Lolita on index cards. While traveling across the United States with his wife to study butterflies, he filled out cards for individual scenes and shuffled them daily, exploring different narrative possibilities.

William Faulkner covered the walls of his study with pages outlining the plots of his novels.

Joseph Heller created large charts while writing Catch-22 to track character appearances and timelines in his famously nonlinear story.

Modern novelists and screenwriters use everything from corkboards to spreadsheet trackers, all of which serve the same function as Rowling’s grid. Now, let’s see how you can turn this tool into your storytelling superpower.

Step One: Build the Story Grid

At its core, Rowling’s plot grid is a simple story matrix. Across the top, she listed chapters or time segments. Down the left side, she listed different story threads.

Start by creating a simple table. For the columns, I recommend starting with broad story sections rather than individual chapters. Think in terms of five acts or the main story beats: Setup, Rising Action, Crisis, Climax, and Resolution.

For the rows, list your key story elements. Your initial grid might look something like this:

  • Setting: Where and when does the story take place? (Especially useful if characters travel).
  • Protagonist’s Arc: The core emotional journey of your hero.
  • Main Themes: The underlying ideas you want to explore.
  • Main Plot: The primary sequence of events.
  • Subplot A, Subplot B, etc.: Secondary storylines.

As you fill this out, your goal is to get a bird’s-eye view of your story. The immediate benefits are obvious:

  • See the whole story at a glance, making it easy to spot plot holes.
  • Track multiple plotlines to ensure they are properly set up and resolved.
  • Plan your foreshadowing and payoffs with intention.
  • Control your pacing and maintain narrative momentum.
  • Experiment with structure by rearranging scenes without losing the big picture.

These are great, but they’re just surface-level benefits. If readers don’t care about your story, the most perfect plot in the world won’t save it. The magic begins when we focus on emotion.

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Step Two: Map the Character’s Emotional Journey

Science shows that engaging stories trigger a cascade of neurochemicals in our brains: dopamine, oxytocin, cortisol, and endorphins. Our brains are wired to respond to narrative. Falling in love with a story is like falling in love with a person; the logical part of our mind takes a back seat, and we get to bask in that neurochemically induced bliss.

This is how you hook readers for life.

The key is understanding one simple truth: what matters isn’t the events of the story, but how those events affect the characters and, by extension, the audience. If a story is about a girl and her puppy, then that puppy becomes the most important thing in the universe. What happens to the puppy—and how the girl reacts—matters more than any broader event. There may be a revolution, a war, a natural disaster, or even an AI takeover or alien invasion. But to make the story compelling, the author must filter every event through the character’s emotional experience.

The hidden power of the plot grid is its ability to map this experience. Don’t just use it as a checklist for plot points. For every event, ask: how does this change the character?

Let’s look at Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone:

  • Plot Event: Harry receives a mysterious letter from Hogwarts.
  • Emotional Impact: Before this, Harry felt neglected and invisible. The letter’s arrival changes everything. More than a plot point, it’s the moment Harry first dares to hope that he might belong somewhere. That feeling becomes the emotional engine that pulls the reader into the story.

Stories are always about characters and their journeys. The distinction between “plot-driven” and “character-driven” stories is misleading. Characters react to the events of the plot, but their reactions, in turn, influence the plot’s direction.

To prove it, try a thought experiment. Take a supposedly plot-driven classic The Count of Monte Cristo, where Edmond Dantès escapes prison, finds a treasure, and seeks revenge. Now, replace him with Jean Valjean from Les Misérables. Would the plot unfold the same way? Of course not. Valjean would likely use the treasure to help the poor and seek justice, not vengeance.

So, both plot and characters are equally important in moving the story forward.

In Step 2, add a row called “Protagonist’s Emotional State” to your grid. Here, you’ll map how their feelings change in response to the plot. An emotional progression could look like:

Hope → Doubt → Despair → Resilience → Triumph

This ensures your story isn’t just a sequence of “what happens next,” but a meaningful journey of inner change.

Step Three: Create a Detailed Story Outline

Now that you have your big picture framework, you can zoom in. Add a column for every chapter of your book. Don’t worry if you don’t know the final chapter count; you can always adjust this later.

As you populate each cell, make sure every chapter is doing its job. Ask yourself:

  • What is the character feeling now?
  • What changes emotionally in this scene?
  • What belief about themselves or the world is being challenged?

If several chapters go by with your protagonist feeling the same way, the story can feel emotionally stagnant, even if dramatic things are happening on the surface. This “emotional flatness” is a main reason readers disengage.

To avoid this, weave your main themes into the plot and the character arc. The best storytellers integrate these so seamlessly that the reader feels the theme’s power without consciously recognizing it until a climactic moment of clarity. For example, in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, the theme of love and sacrifice permeates the entire story. Harry’s mother, Lily Potter, sacrifices herself to save him from Lord Voldemort. That act of love becomes the force that not only protects Harry but shapes his entire journey.

Book cover: Trust Your Story: Master Storytelling and Build a Successful Creative Writing Career by Will Raywood

I know that creating a detailed outline can feel daunting, but it can also be very fun and empowering. It’s a living document, a tool meant to help, not constrain you. Go back and tweak it whenever inspiration strikes.

Ready to take your writing career to the next level? If you want to create unforgettable characters and stories readers will cherish, check out this book: Trust Your Story. It’s a comprehensive guide covering everything from core storytelling techniques to devising a winning author strategy.

So, what are your thoughts? Have you tried Rowling’s plot grid or similar methods? I’m curious to hear what works for you. Leave a comment below!

The Sanderson System: 7 Steps to Writing a Blockbuster Novel

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I used to consider myself a slow writer. Whenever I heard about authors who finish their novels in less than a month, I was skeptical. Surely such a feat requires exceptional skill… and maybe a few sleepless nights. Not for me, thanks very much.

I’m no writing machine, I told myself. I need inspiration. I need time to mature my story outline, find my characters’ voices, and redraft the first chapter a dozen times for good measure.

Yet, as an experiment, I applied the writing method I’m about to present and… to my surprise, it worked. Instead of a full year, I drafted a novel in just a few weeks. And you know what? The book turned out quite well. It garnered good reviews and sold decently.

Any author can learn to write faster with the right techniques. In fact, drafting quickly can improve your story and your prose, for reasons I explain in my article about Stephen King’s routine. Give it a read.

But this post is about another author, a highly successful one: Brandon Sanderson. Whatever one might think of his books, we can’t deny their popular appeal. In 2023, he raised a record‑breaking $41.7 million on Kickstarter for four new novels. Some readers pledged hundreds of dollars for a single campaign.

George R. R. Martin divides writers into two camps: architects, who design an outline before drafting, and gardeners, who plant the seed of a story and discover its shape as it grows. Sanderson outlines extensively.

I’m (usually) an architect. I’ve found that the best way to get the kinds of endings I like, I have to know where I’m going before I start.

He needs to know the story’s conclusion before drafting. He admits, “I write for endings.” His outlines are engineered so every plotline converges toward a single climactic moment. He dislikes rewriting and wants his first draft to be as close to final as possible, in contrast to discovery writers like Martin or King, who revise heavily.

That said, Sanderson balances planning with improvisation through what he calls a “floating outline.” His “Points on the Map” philosophy gives him enough structure to avoid getting lost, yet enough freedom to invent along the way. I analyzed his method and broke his process into seven steps.

Step 1. Imagine major scenes

Once you have a story idea, visualize the big moments, like emotional climaxes, plot turns, major character revelations. Some writers start with themes; others begin with the mood and core emotions of their story‑in‑the‑making. Either way is fine. Use whatever method drives your imagination.

These major scenes become the “points” your story must reach. To ensure your story engages your audience, define the main conflict as early as possible. It can be external, like an existential threat or a major challenge for the protagonist, internal, or both.

Sanderson does his worldbuilding before drafting, and that’s a wise approach. Drafting and worldbuilding at the same time will slow you down. You don’t need a full compendium before writing, just enough information about the key elements, like the main conflict and character arcs. The world exists to support the narrative, so resist the temptation to invest too much time in aspects that won’t matter to the plot.

Step 2. Divide the book into broad parts

Book cover: The Natural Laws of Story: Master the Art and Science of Engaging Narratives by Will Raywood

Some writers prefer the three‑act structure; others lean toward its five‑act cousin, the Hero’s Journey, or different frameworks entirely. This technique works regardless of the number of acts. Think of your plot as a living organism and don’t force it into a rigid template just to follow convention. You might end up with three acts, four, or even six. Don’t worry about the number at the start, you can adjust later as your outline develops.

Regardless of structure, every story needs a few essential elements: setup, inciting incident, rising action, crisis, climax, and resolution. You can add optional beats like a midpoint, falling action, or denouement. But your first task is to visualize the overall shape of your story and identify its key turning points, the moments that define the emotional arc.

For more details on story structure and outlining methods, check out my guide The Natural Laws of Story. You’ll find plenty of examples from famous works and exercises to help you practice.

Step 3. Map out the scenes into an outline

The order of your scenes and where they fall in the novel matters. You want to create an addictive experience for your readers, where every setup leads to a buildup and resolves with a satisfying payoff. Your most dramatic scene should be the climax, usually toward the end of the story, in the final act.

Make sure all your scenes follow a logical progression. One proven method is to raise the stakes progressively. Each act ends with its own climax, a moment of heightened dramatic intensity that leads naturally into the next act, where the stakes escalate again.

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Step 4. Build bullet‑point lists for each story beat

These bullet points include:

  • Plot steps that must happen beforehand
  • Character progression beats
  • Foreshadowing or mystery‑setup beats

These points are reminders, not commandments. They exist to keep you oriented, not to constrain you. Your outline is a living structure meant to evolve as you develop it and draft your manuscript.

The early acts of your book will usually have more bullet points than the later ones. That’s normal. Even if you’re an architect, you should leave yourself and your characters room for discovery and exploration. As you draft, revisit your outline regularly and add new bullet points.

These new points help you map out subplots, secondary character arcs, and—importantly—build connections between all the elements of your story.

Step 5. Outline every chapter before drafting

This step is optional, but it will dramatically speed up your drafting. Truly. It’s the difference between writing a novel in three months and writing one in a single month. The secret? Granular outlining.

The fastest, most productive writers outline not only every act but every chapter. Each chapter is a mini‑story with its own setup, conflict, rising action, and climax. Outline each chapter with a few bullet points, just as you did for the acts in the previous steps. These points will act as road posts and guide you during drafting.

If you’d like to support my work and see more articles and videos like this, check out my books, for example the story about a disastrously misguided debut novelist.

Come for the comedy, stay for the cautionary tale!

Step 6. The ending grows more powerful during drafting

Everything you do should contribute to building dramatic tension that releases during the climax. Even if you had a strong ending in mind back in Step 1, you can always strengthen it while drafting.

Imagine the plot as an elastic band, the band representing the tension and suspense in your story. As the narrative progresses and conflicts intensify, the elastic stretches further. The audience becomes more invested, anticipating the release of that tension. The climax is the moment when the band reaches its limit and snaps back. This release provides a powerful emotional payoff as the tension built throughout the story resolves. The snap mirrors the falling action and resolution that follow, as the characters and narrative return to equilibrium.

Step 7. Revise the manuscript

Like many writers, I used to dread revisions. Now I enjoy them. This is where you turn a rough diamond into something that shines… or at least something you’re not embarrassed to share.

Every writer develops their own revision method. It’s a topic I discuss in other posts, so I’ll be brief here. If you’ve followed all the previous steps, you already have a functioning structure, so revisions focus more on pacing, style, and polish rather than fixing character arcs or rebuilding the plot from scratch.

If you’ve done your job well, you don’t need to “kill your darlings.” No grim task required. That famous advice applies mostly to discovery writers like Stephen King, or gardeners, as GRRM calls them.

But what do you do if you find plot holes? Well, that topic deserves its own article. Stay tuned, and don’t forget to subscribe to my newsletter so you never miss important updates.

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Does Your Book Idea Pass these 4 Tests?

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How do bestselling authors know when an idea has the muscle to carry a novel… or even an entire series? No writer wants to spend years drafting a book only to discover the premise isn’t compelling enough to stand out in today’s ruthless market. So how can you tell if your idea has legs?

Test 1: The Golden Triangle Test

In the publishing industry, editors look for one thing above all: a crisp, irresistible high‑concept premise that pitches itself. But how do you know if your idea qualifies?

Here’s an empirical approach: share your premise casually at a social gathering or on social media. Say something like, “A friend told me about a book with this cool idea, have you read it?” Then offer only the gist of your premise, a hook designed to intrigue.

Watch their reaction. Do their eyes light up? Or do they politely change the subject? A high‑concept idea should trigger an immediate emotional response, and there’s science behind that.

Research shows that gripping stories release a blend of neurochemicals known as the Angel’s Cocktail:

  • Dopamine from mystery and suspense
  • Oxytocin from emotional connection
  • Endorphins from humor and delight

To create an addictive reading experience, your story must activate all three. That means finding the mental sweet spot where three human superpowers meet: curiosity, empathy, and imagination. I call this the Golden Triangle of Storytelling, a concept I explore in my writing guides.

If I had to summarize it in one sentence: The mystery pulls you in; the characters and the world make you never want to leave.

  • You trigger curiosity by creating a mystery and managing information gaps, revealing key truths gradually, intentionally, at moments of heightened dramatic intensity.
  • You trigger empathy by making readers care about your characters, often by placing your protagonist in a challenging or seemingly impossible situation.
  • You trigger imagination by transporting readers into your fictional world, not with long descriptions, but with enticing glimpses of a larger reality beyond the page.

The Golden Triangle applies to your premise just as much as to your full novel. Ask yourself: does your idea spark curiosity, empathy, and imagination? If it triggers at least one, it may have potential. If it triggers two or all three? Congratulations, you may have the seed of a great story!

Examples:

  • Good Omens: An angel and a demon team up to stop the Apocalypse. Triggers curiosity and imagination.
  • The Martian: An astronaut is stranded alone on Mars and must survive until rescue arrives. Triggers curiosity and empathy.
  • Jurassic Park: Scientists resurrect dinosaurs and open a theme park. Triggers imagination and curiosity. What could possibly go wrong?
  • Coraline: A lonely girl discovers a secret door leading to a perfect copy of her home… but the magical world is a trap designed to steal children’s souls. This premise triggers all three: curiosity, empathy, and imagination.

Want to master the art of emotional storytelling?

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Test 2: Does the Idea Play to Your Strengths?

If your idea passes the first test, move on to the second: how confident are you that your execution will do justice to the premise? Are you passionate enough about this topic to write an entire novel about it? Do you have sufficient familiarity with the genre and subject matter?

Of course, you don’t need to be an expert to write about a topic. “Write what you know” is one of the most common, persistent, and—frankly—dangerous pieces of writing advice. It’s passion that sustains a novel, not formal education or professional experience. Research fills the gaps. In fact, many iconic works of fiction were written by authors with no background in their subject matter.

Mary Shelley had no scientific training when she wrote Frankenstein. Jules Verne wasn’t an engineer, yet he imagined submarines, spaceships, and technologies far ahead of his time. Agatha Christie had no experience in law enforcement or criminal psychology; her only relevant knowledge came from working as a volunteer nurse during World War I. She certainly didn’t know the intricacies of police procedure.

Tom Clancy sold insurance while writing The Hunt for Red October… And thank goodness he didn’t follow the “write what you know” rule. Hilary Mantel wasn’t a historian; she worked as a social worker and then a shop assistant before becoming one of the most celebrated historical novelists.

That said, you still need the motivation to research. Authenticity matters. Don’t rely blindly on AI or quick internet searches; you may need books by experts, primary sources, or even research trips. When I was researching my second novel, I read multiple guides and essays on the historical period, traveled to the locations in France and Italy where the story takes place, and spoke with local historians to get the details right.

“Write what you know” is useful only in one sense: write from the human experiences close to your heart. Tolkien never wrote a trench memoir, yet the trauma he carried from World War I permeates his work. He transmuted lived experience into myth. He wrote from emotional truth, not technical expertise in warfare.

In summary: write what you feel, research what you don’t know, and let your imagination do the rest.

Here’s a simple test. Write down your story idea, set it aside for a few days, then return to it. Does it still ignite your imagination? Are you emotionally invested in the subject matter? Can you envision at least three scenes in vivid detail?

In fact, if your idea is good, you won’t even need to write it down. It’ll stick with you, follow you around, pop into your thoughts, and haunt you until you either give in and write the book or stumble onto an even better idea.

If your premise passed the first two tests, don’t pop the champagne just yet… there are still two more to go.

Test 3: Is This the Right Story for Your Readers?

Knowing your audience is essential, I can’t overstate this. Will they care enough about your premise to invest hours in your book? Is the idea strong enough to sustain their interest through an entire novel, or is it better suited to a short story or novella?

One of the most important habits for any writer is simple: read widely. Read at least a dozen novels in your genre. Read outside your genre. Read classics. Read recent releases, especially the books your audience is talking about.

The more you read, the easier it becomes to come up with ideas and judge whether they are marketable to your readership.

Test 4: Can Your Idea Carry a Full Novel?

So how do you know if your idea can carry a full novel? Ask yourself whether the premise creates conflict and opens multiple pathways for escalation. Take Good Omens as an example: An angel and a demon team up to stop the Apocalypse.

Conflict:

  • Natural enemies forced to work together: tension guaranteed
  • They must hide their alliance from their superiors
  • They must confront cosmic forces determined to bring about the Apocalypse

Escalation Pathways:

  • Their friendship strains under pressure
  • The Antichrist grows more powerful
  • Heaven and Hell discover their betrayal
  • Human free will disrupts divine plans

These are just a few possibilities; the premise generates dozens more. That’s the trait of a story idea with long‑form durability.

If your idea passes all four tests, congratulations! You’re off to a strong start. The next step is to turn that raw potential into a solid story outline.

Check out my post on story outlining and plotting; the methods I share there can save you a lot of time and help you bring out the full power of your premise. So, do you have a favorite method for testing your story ideas? Share it in the comments. I’d love to hear about your experience.

If you’d like to support my work and see more articles and videos like this, check out my books. Learn more about the Golden Triangle of Storytelling and my 4Ps Method in my recently published guides Trust Your Story and the Natural Laws of Story.

This Report Is Terrifying… How to Protect Your Writing Career?

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Imagine a world where every new release is just AI slop. Human authors? Gone.

Books, movies, TV shows, videogames… everything starts to blur into the same formulaic, artificial stories. And the problem goes far beyond publishing. In fantasy alone, the most influential franchises—The Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, The Witcher—all began as books. Now imagine a future where bold new worlds and mind‑bending ideas simply… stop appearing.

Dystopian, isn’t it? Yet I don’t believe this future is inevitable. In fact, paradoxically, I think it’s still a great time to start a writing career.

Because in the age of AI, being a skilled storyteller matters more than ever.

If you’re raising an eyebrow, I get it. But hear me out. The Independent Society of Musicians recently released a report that should terrify anyone working in creative industries. It certainly shook me. The report describes, and I quote,

the greatest acts of theft in modern history: the stripping of the UK’s creative industries of their rights, livelihoods, and control over their work.

And the problem is global, not confined to the UK. The survey behind the report gathered responses from five major organizations representing more than 80,000 creators, including authors, illustrators, and musicians. To grasp the scale: the creative sector supports over 2.4 million jobs in the UK alone. Across every discipline, the message is the same: Gen‑AI is pushing creative livelihoods to the brink.

The Creative Sector in Crisis: What the Brave New World Report Reveals

Let’s talk specifically about writers. More than a thousand members of the Society of Authors responded to the survey. A staggering 86% say Gen‑AI has already reduced their earnings, and 65% expect their income to fall even further. 72% report that job opportunities have already been cut, and an alarming 57% say their career is no longer sustainable.

The report also highlights a shocking case of literary identity theft. Bestselling author Vanessa Fox O’Loughlin (better known as Sam Blake) discovered that someone had published AI‑generated books on Amazon under her pen name, complete with covers and typography designed to mimic her real titles. Imagine her shock when these fakes appeared on her verified author page and were automatically pushed to her followers as new releases.

According to O’Loughlin, the fraudster used Gen‑AI to imitate her style. On her blog, she writes:

I was hoping that the fake books could be marked as AI content or (this is definitely wishful thinking) taken down. But they don’t contravene Amazon guidelines, and perhaps there is someone else out there who is called Sam Blake who writes dark romantasy, ably assisted by ChatGPT, Grok, or Deep Seek.

I couldn’t find the books on Amazon or Goodreads, so they were likely removed. But the incident shows just how far scammers will go to sell AI‑generated slop… and how exposed both authors and readers are to this kind of deception.

AI Influencers and Fake Engagement: A New Wave of Digital Deception

And it gets even stranger. A YouTuber recently uncovered a wave of AI‑generated influencers on social media, fake avatars recommending obscure indie books, boosted by hundreds of comments and upvotes from other fake accounts. Some scammers even approach authors directly, offering these “promotional services.”

So now we have AI‑generated books, promoted by AI‑generated influencers, amplified by AI‑generated engagement. It feels like we’re sprinting toward a Philip K. Dick‑style dystopia where no one can tell what’s real and what’s manufactured.

Why AI Cannot Replace Human Expertise

Alas, fraud and impersonation are only one piece of a much larger crisis. Royalty income for traditionally published authors has been sliding for years, especially in nonfiction and several fiction genres. I’ve seen it with my own nonfiction books; sales dropped noticeably after the release of ChatGPT. More and more people now rely on chatbots for information, and that trend should worry all of us.

Chatbots and the internet are no substitutes for books written by experts. They’re great for quick answers, but they can’t give you the depth of understanding you need to truly master a subject. Both AI and online content tend to reinforce mainstream views, while books offer original perspectives shaped by years of lived experience and research.

If you’re trying to build a writing career solely on free online advice, I have bad news: you’re setting yourself up to fail. And if that’s the case, don’t blame AI. Much of the advice floating around the web is outdated, shallow, or outright misleading.

If you’d like to support my work and see more articles like this, check out my books, for example the story about a disastrously misguided debut novelist.

Come for the comedy, stay for the cautionary tale!

Challenges and Opportunities for Authors

All of this sounds bleak for authors. Is it game over for the writing profession? I don’t think so. What we’re experiencing is painful, yes, but I believe it’s also transitional, a turbulent moment of change that brings both challenges and opportunities.

So what are the solutions? The report argues that the core problem is companies scraping creators’ work and identities without permission. Their proposed answer is the CLEAR framework, which would require companies to compensate creators when training AI models on copyrighted content. The idea is to build a market where people are paid for the material AI learns from, with the option to opt out. It would also protect creators’ identities by preventing voice and style mimicry.

Will it work? I’m skeptical. The damage to the creative industries is so severe that licensing alone may not be enough to repair it.

Mandatory labeling of AI‑generated books sounds promising, but enforcing it would be nearly impossible. AI detectors are notoriously unreliable and could harm writers who use AI responsibly… or don’t use it at all.

If we can’t force platforms to label AI‑generated books, could we flip the idea and label human‑authored ones instead?

The Authors Guild has introduced a “Human Authored” certification, confirming that

the text of the book was written by a human and not generated by AI, with the exception of minimal uses such as AI applications that check spelling and grammar or for brainstorming or research.

It’s a clever idea, but far from foolproof. The certification verifies the creator’s identity, not the purity of the process. It’s only a matter of time before a scandal exposes its limitations.

No, I don’t believe AI detectors or book labeling will save us or protect author’s income. The real solution won’t come from regulators or publishing platforms. It will come from the community itself, from authors and readers. AI can generate books, but it cannot build communities or forge genuine human connections.

That’s how we survive the AI onslaught. That’s how we fight back. That’s how we thrive in this strange new world of scammers and fakes.

Wishful thinking? I don’t think so. Even before AI, the only reliable path to a sustainable writing career was building a loyal readership. That’s how fiction authors endure.

So what can you do right now to secure your future as an author? Start with a fundamental mindset shift—from writer to storyteller, and from content creator to community builder. Yes, AI is reshaping writing jobs, but skilled storytellers will always be in demand, because the human mind will always crave emotional connection.

Storytelling is the last bastion of human creativity, because at its heart lies the art of emotional exchange.

New Tools for a New Era: Crowdfunding, Subscriptions, and Reader Support

If you dream of turning creative writing into a full‑time job, here’s my advice: don’t rely on royalties alone. Book sales are unpredictable, they always have been. In her book The Business of Being a Writer, Jane Friedman shares revealing figures showing that royalties make up only a small percentage of her annual income. That’s normal. It’s true for me as well and for many successful writers I know.

The good news is that authors have never had more tools to build a community around their work and monetize it. Crowdfunding and subscription models are just two examples of income streams that can complement royalties.

Look at fantasy author Brandon Sanderson, who raised a record‑breaking $41.7 million on Kickstarter for four new books. Readers pledged hundreds of dollars in a single campaign. Many authors use crowdfunding to cover editing, cover design, formatting, even research trips. You don’t need millions to make your dream possible, but you do need a community of readers willing to support you.

Mailing lists and subscription platforms are another powerful tool. Andy Weir, author of The Martian, began by posting serialized fiction on his website and built a following of about three thousand readers. That core audience was the engine behind The Martian’s early success on Amazon.

Weir is a great example because his book took off with almost no self‑promotion. He didn’t spam social media, a habit far too common among writers today. The truth is, blatant self‑promotion doesn’t work. But when you have a loyal, enthusiastic following, your readers will promote your work for you.

Today, writers have access to platforms that make it easier than ever to share content, grow a mailing list, and even monetize serialized fiction through subscriptions. Substack is one such platform, attracting high‑profile authors like Salman Rushdie and Margaret Atwood.

Book cover: Trust Your Story: Master Storytelling and Build a Successful Creative Writing Career by Will Raywood

How to Build Your Own Community

Building a following may feel daunting, but the prerequisite is simple: you must be part of the community you hope to reach. If you haven’t started yet, follow this plan. First, define your target audience as precisely as possible. Second, find the places where your future readers gather to talk about books: online groups, forums, Discord servers, or local book clubs. Third, become an active member of that community, not to self‑promote, but to understand them. What are their interests? Their tastes? Their values?

That knowledge is essential. In my guide Trust Your Story, I present the pyramid of creative success. Writing style sits at the top—it’s the icing on the cake. At the foundation are the two pillars of lasting success: mastery of storytelling and a deep understanding of your audience. But that’s a topic for another blog post.

So, how do you feel about the future of our profession? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Share them in the comments.

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