Writing vs. Promoting: A Writer’s Dilemma
The Slow Burn of Sharing a Story
The Joy of Writing
I love writing. The push and pull of finding the right words, hoping someone will read them and be informed, entertained, or even enlightened.
When I started my first novel nearly six years ago, I dove in headfirst. Very little research, no outreach, no plan—just a character I thought readers might root for, and the desire to see where the story would lead, and who the character would become. It wasn’t my first attempt (this “debut” came after five earlier tries), but it was the first one that felt ready to share.
And now, as I serialize Forged in Ancient Fire on Substack, I can admit something: I like writing. I might even be a little good at it.
The Writing-Help Industry
Of course, after starting my first attempt at writing a novel with this new character and situation, I realized I needed a little help. Y’see, I came from the old days in the 70s and 80s, where if you wanted to learn what it took to write a novel, the best best was either to find a good college course, or find a novelist and find a way to pick their brains. But here in the connected world, it didn’t take long before I encountered the vast online writing community—teachers, coaches, courses, and hucksters (and yes, some genuine saints). Most of them are well-meaning. Many offer good value. Like many new writers, I’ve invested in what I needed most: courses on plotting, character creation, world-building; editors who helped refine my prose; and even a plotting coach who turned my early chaos into something resembling a story.
In today’s connected world, tools to improve your craft are easy to find—and worth paying for. But there’s a catch: it never ends. There’s always another course, another webinar, another “secret” to great writing. And let’s be honest: there isn’t much new under the sun. Yes, the technology continues to evolve (hello, AI!), but the storytelling techniques that worked a century ago still work today. What’s different now is the sheer number of people willing to package and sell them back to you.
If you’re not careful, it can feel like being stuck in an airport terminal with sales pitches coming at you from every direction. Helpful? Often. Overwhelming? Definitely.
Have you ever gone down that rabbit hole, too—signing up for one course after another? I’m curious: what’s the most useful (or useless) writing advice you’ve ever paid for?
The Publishing Reality
What surprised me more than the never-ending advice industry was realizing how disconnected writing a novel is from earning a living as a writer. Writing is one thing. Finding an audience willing to both read and pay for the story is another.
I follow many writers online, and their stories are strikingly similar. One example I’ve seen again and again: a book that the author barely believed in—something they considered a “throwaway”—suddenly catches fire and sells thousands of copies. Then the next book, which they poured their soul into, is rejected by publishers or flops at launch.
The book world is fickle. What sells this month may be dead weight next month. No one can predict what will be a hit, whether it’s a book, an album, or a movie.
That unpredictability isn’t shocking to me. I’m 70 now, but I worked in radio in my twenties and thirties, trying to predict which new records would climb the charts. I was wrong more often than right (although I did nail it quite a few times!). Hits came from places you never expected, while “can’t-miss” songs vanished into obscurity. So when I see younger writers baffled that the market doesn’t reward the “best” book, I can only shrug. It’s always been this way. It is no surprise.
What about you? Have you ever been surprised by which books (or albums, or films) found an audience and which ones vanished without a trace?
The Real Question: Promotion
Which brings me to my own dilemma: how to promote my book.
Do I buy ads? Keep pumping out social media posts? Pester podcast hosts so they might (maybe) deign to have me on their show? Chase down book bloggers who are swamped with dozens of pitches every week?
After you write a book, of course you want people to read it—at least a few, right? I know I do. But the world is noisy, and the avenues for attention are scattered.
I’ve dipped a toe into the podcast-searching pool. Surely there must be hundreds of book-related shows, right? At least a few dozen open to new authors? The reality: the first handful I found hadn’t posted more than one or two episodes in the past couple of years. So I set it aside because I don’t have the bandwidth to do everything my squirrel-like mind comes up with. I mean, I have two companies to run in tradeshow marketing and real estate photography. And those clients come before promoting my book.
And here’s the real kicker: I don’t want to work 60-hour weeks. I’ve done that. These days, I’d rather ride my bike, shoot hoops, walk the dog, and spend the evening with my wife. Life is for living, not just hustling. I’m not going to promote the hell out of my book. So whoever finds it with my limited plugs, well, it’s meant to be.
A Slow-Burn Approach
That doesn’t mean I won’t promote it at all. It just means I haven’t decided how much time—or money—I want to invest.
Maybe that’s part of why I chose to start with Substack. By releasing Forged in Ancient Fire two chapters a week, the publishing itself becomes a kind of promotion. The slow roll-out gives me time to think. Time to experiment. Maybe I’ll find some podcasts that’ll talk to me. Maybe I’ll experiment with ads. Maybe nudging a few book bloggers. Maybe all of the above.
For now, the book is out in the world, chapter by chapter. Readers can find it. I can breathe. And that feels like enough.
If you’ve been down this road yourself, how did you approach promotion without letting it take over your life? I’d love to hear what worked (or didn’t) for you.
The rest will come—slowly, imperfectly, probably unpredictably. Just like the writing itself.