Sustenance: How I Use AI for a Plot Matrix

I’ve got a bone to pick with Claire Fraise, dammit. I’ve lost 2 days I’ll never get back — including the time it’s taking me to create this post.

Claire shared a YouTube video on using plot grids for your writing process. Being me and heeding her advice, I decided to create a plot grid – I call it a plot matrix; same thing – for a project I am editing.

Video: What is a plot grid?

I should probably create a video response, but I didn’t have even more time to lose.

Full Disclosure: By lose time, I don’t want to imply by any means that this is wasted time.

Since the plot matrix I created is for an unpublished manuscript, I decided to create one for the first chapter of my published book, Sustenance. It contains two sections or scenes.

Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.

I’ll share the process I used and reference the Excel document I created. Download it if you’d like to follow along.

After the explanations, I’ll discuss how I use ChatGPT to help me with this, as well as some challenges you may wish to be aware of.

Below is a screenshot of a portion of the plot matrix.

Image: Portion of plot matrix

I’ll start by sharing the column headers and a brief explanation of what each means. Some should be obvious, but I’ll describe them as well.

  • Narrative Order: The order a scene appears in the manuscript.
  • Chronological Order: The sequence in which events occur in story-time, enabling tracking of flashbacks or non-linear jumps.
  • Sentiment: A numerical indicator of the scene’s emotional tone, from deeply negative (–5) to strongly positive (+5).
  • Chapter: The chapter or section title in which the scene appears.
  • Plot Points: A summary of key events, revelations, or decisions that occur in the scene.
  • Time: When the scene takes place, whether exact or relative (e.g., “early morning,” “flashback,” “six months later”).
  • Primary Characters in Scene: The characters actively driving or anchoring the scene.
  • Secondary Characters in Scene: Important but less central characters who influence or are present in the scene.
  • Minor Characters in Scene: Tertiary figures mentioned or briefly appearing without narrative weight.
  • Word Count: The number of words in the scene, useful for pacing and balance.
  • Emotional Beat/Theme: The scene’s dominant emotional tone or thematic current (e.g., betrayal, longing, discovery).
  • Emotional State: The internal condition or affective register of the POV character(s) during the scene.
  • Scene Function: What the scene accomplishes narratively (e.g., exposition, climax, setup, reversal).
  • Character Arc: How a character is developing, stagnating, or regressing within the scene.
  • External Stakes: The tangible, real-world risks or consequences present in the scene.
  • Internal Stakes: The emotional, psychological, or relational consequences at play.
  • Needs Clarification?: A flag to indicate whether a scene contains confusing elements or ambiguous logic.
  • Revision Priority: A ranking of how urgently the scene needs refinement.
  • Conflict Type: The dominant form of conflict (e.g., internal, interpersonal, systemic, environmental).
  • Turning Point?: Whether the scene marks a key reversal or decision point in the narrative.
  • Turning Point Direction: Indicates the shift’s trajectory (positive, negative, neutral, ambiguous).
  • Direction Commentary: A brief rationale for how and why the narrative tone or direction changes.
  • Reinforces: Themes, motifs, or ideas the scene strengthens.
  • Undermines: Themes or ideas the scene weakens, contradicts, or questions.
  • Reveals: New information, secrets, or understandings brought to light.
  • Conceals: Key details or truths the scene deliberately withholds.
  • Distorts: Misunderstandings, biases, or unreliable elements introduced.
  • Inverts: Role, expectation, or thematic reversals subverted in the scene.
  • Echoes: Recurrent phrases, images, or patterns from earlier scenes or motifs.
  • Revision Commentary: Notes on potential rewrites, improvements, or cautions.
  • Punch List: Specific edits or action items needed in revision.
  • Resolved?: Whether the scene’s tension, question, or arc has been closed.
  • Location: Where the scene is physically set—important for continuity, blocking, and worldbuilding.

Iowa: Opening Scene

Narrative Order: The order a scene appears in the manuscript.

I am tracking scenes/sections rather than chapters because that’s the way I’ve organised the manuscript. I want to capture the smalled logical element of the story.

Being a spreadsheet, I need to keep track of the sections, so I give each scene a number. In this case, we are looking at section 1 of the narrative order, the first section a reader encounters.

Chronological Order: The sequence in which events occur in story-time, enabling tracking of flashbacks or non-linear jumps.

This manuscript has no flashbacks at this point, so the sequencing tracks 1-to-1. In the manuscript I am editing, it starts in media res, and there are two large jumps back and forth in time.

Being in a spreadsheet table, I can sort the story by narrative or chronology, which helps me track logical progressions that I might miss otherwise.

Sentiment: A numerical indicator of the scene’s emotional tone, from deeply negative (–5) to strongly positive (+5).

I like to track sentiment, so I can provide emotional dynamics to the reader. I don’t want to come across as bleak or euphoric for extended periods.

By this scale, 0 is neutral, -5 is gawdawful, and +5 is over the moon.

In these first two scenes, the protagonist, Kenny, is tracking just under baseline to neutral. Nothing much is happening emotionally, as we are just establishing the place.

Chapter: The chapter or section title in which the scene appears.

The name of this chapter is Iowa.

Plot Points: A summary of key events, revelations, or decisions that occur in the scene.

In scene 1, we have this:

  • Narrator establishes his identity, location, and tone.
  • Mentions girl, Bruce’s death, and being misunderstood.
  • Foreshadows larger story.

Time: When the scene takes place, whether exact or relative (e.g., “early morning,” “flashback,” “six months later”).

We are in the now.

Retrospective/Near-Present

Primary Characters in Scene: The characters actively driving or anchoring the scene.

This is a first-person, present, limited, deep POV story, so Kenny is one with the narrator.

Secondary Characters in Scene: Important but less central characters who influence or are present in the scene.

Kenny is just setting up the scene, and he mentions two secondary characters:

  • Bruce (mentioned)
  • ‘Her’ (mentioned)

My preference is to scope the characters globally. This means that if some character interacts with a significant character but doesn’t appear elsewhere, I’ll consider them to be a tertiary or minor character. Some writers prefer to track these characters at a scene level. This is a personal preference.

Minor Characters in Scene: Tertiary figures mentioned or briefly appearing without narrative weight.

These are incidental characters that you might want to track in case you want to expand or adjust them.

  • Jake (mentioned)
  • narrator’s dad (mentioned)

Word Count: The number of words in the scene, useful for pacing and balance.

These are two short scenes: 247 and 502 words.

Emotional Beat/Theme: The scene’s dominant emotional tone or thematic current (e.g., betrayal, longing, discovery).

What’s going on here? Am I conveying what I aim to?

  1. Isolation, defensiveness, curiosity
  2. Belonging vs alienation; repetition vs rupture

Emotional State: The internal condition or affective register of the POV character(s) during the scene.

What’s the POV character feeling?

  1. Guarded, nostalgic, lonely
  2. Resigned, mildly boastful, reflective

Scene Function: What the scene accomplishes narratively (e.g., exposition, climax, setup, reversal).

Why does this scene exist? If it doesn’t serve a purpose, get rid of it, or give it one. Make sure every scene builds on characters or advances the plot.

  1. Narrator introduction; frame story establishment; tonally primes the reader
  2. Establishes rural setting, background on narrator’s world and connections, foreshadows disruption

Character Arc: How a character is developing, stagnating, or regressing within the scene.

Again, ensure your characters(s) have movement. In this story, there are several characters with an arc, but Kenny is the only one being tracked thus far. Being the start of the story, the question is, where does he go from here?

  1. Establishes base-level insecurity masked by bravado
  2. Solidifies narrator’s self-image and history within town hierarchy

External Stakes: The tangible, real-world risks or consequences present in the scene.

What external considerations might the character be making in this scene, whether they do or don’t do something?

  1. Implied social stigma or alienation
  2. Community perception and social standing

Internal Stakes: The emotional, psychological, or relational consequences at play.

What internal considerations might the character be making in this scene, whether they do or don’t do something?

  1. Fear of being misunderstood or blamed
  2. Fear of irrelevance, unresolved identity

Needs Clarification?: A flag to indicate whether a scene contains confusing elements or ambiguous logic.

When sketching a scene idea, you may have unresolved loose ends that you either need to tie up in the scene or somewhere else. Usually, this is more interested in making sure a reader doesn’t leave the scene confused — unless, of course, this is your intent.

Revision Priority: A ranking of how urgently the scene needs refinement.

This is important in a reviewing/editing phase. As you are cleaning up your manuscript, are there massive holes that need to be plugged, or might this just need some minor refinements?

Conflict Type: The dominant form of conflict (e.g., internal, interpersonal, systemic, environmental).

This could be a post of its own, so I won’t belabour the issue here. Readers like conflict. It gives something to resolve. Is this conflict related to the person, their past, another person, their environment, society, and so on? Document it here. Several conflicts make for more complex characters and stories.

  1. Internal (identity, credibility)
  2. Internal (identity vs environment)

Turning Point?: Whether the scene marks a key reversal or decision point in the narrative.

In this case, the first scene has now; the second does.

  1. No
  2. Yes

Turning Point Direction: Indicates the shift’s trajectory (positive, negative, neutral, ambiguous).

If there is a turning point, what’s the direction? A stable or lateral vector is fine.

  1. None
  2. Foreshadows disruption

Direction Commentary: A brief rationale for how and why the narrative tone or direction changes.

If there is a shift in direction, what is it? This might help to orient you when scanning, so you can know in the scene where to edit.

  1. None
  2. Last line (“Until that day”) subtly transitions from ordinary routine into impending change

This next section captures how the scene functions from several perspectives.

Reinforces: Themes, motifs, or ideas the scene strengthens.

  1. Narrator’s parochial worldview, potential unreliability
  2. Small-town realism, emotional flatness, rural masculinity

Undermines: Themes or ideas the scene weakens, contradicts, or questions.

I like to subvert tropes and expectations as well as make social commentary, so this can be informative for me. In this case, I want to depict these things in a different light.

  1. Traditional heroic framing
  2. Romanticisation of small-town life

Reveals: New information, secrets, or understandings brought to light.

What does this scene reveal?

  1. Setting, tone, perspective
  2. Social fabric of the town, Kenny’s values and limitations

Conceals: Key details or truths the scene deliberately withholds.

In the first scene, I mention matter-of-factly,

  1. Real details of Bruce’s death and who ‘she’ is
  2. The event that disrupted the routine

So the reader knows there’s a “Bruce” and a “she,” but who they are remains to be seen. And Bruce died. How?

Distorts: Misunderstandings, biases, or unreliable elements introduced.

This is getting more nitpicky, but sometimes I like to obscur some things?

  1. Narrator’s reliability and possible biases
  2. Self-perception vs actual social role

Is this a reliable narrator? Even if he wants to be, is his perception accurate?

Inverts: Role, expectation, or thematic reversals subverted in the scene.

I like to subvert tropes and expectations here, too. This can also be used to intentionally have a character act out of character.

  1. Traditional ‘boy meets girl’ trope
  2. The classic “tight-knit community” mythos

Echoes: Recurrent phrases, images, or patterns from earlier scenes or motifs.

Early on, this most captures echoes of the external world, as this does. Later on, a scene might echo (and perhaps amplify) a prior scene.

  1. Small-town fatalism
  2. American nostalgia, masculine banality

Revision Commentary: Notes on potential rewrites, improvements, or cautions.

Here, the AI gods advise me to streamline these scenes, but I answer to no gods. 😉

  1. Could trim repetition or streamline internal monologue for pacing
  2. Minor streamlining of “rural inventory” might improve pacing without losing tone

Punch List: Specific edits or action items needed in revision.

If there are revisions to be made, capture them here, so you’ll remember what you were thinking about when you suggested a revision. In this case, the reminder is the same. Too late, it’s already published.

  1. None
  2. Possibly trim town description repetition

Resolved?: Whether the scene’s tension, question, or arc has been closed.

In both case, the answer here is no. Being an opening scene, hopefully, this open issues and questions – unless you prefer to resolve everything immediately.

Location: Where the scene is physically set—important for continuity, blocking, and worldbuilding.

This is setting information. This will be more helpful in a complex environment. In this case, there’s not a lot to say. He’s on his front porch step, rambling away about his town and his story.

  1. Iowa, unspecified small town
  2. Iowa, narrator’s town and neighbouring town

ChatGPT and Plot Matrices

After completing my manuscript, say a first draft, I feed it into a ChatGPT project. Then I run this prompt.

Let's use this format. I'll provide the value of (X). From where we are, Narrative and Chronological orders have converged and will remain so. They are equal to Row ID - 1. I'll use Row ID (X) as a reference marker.

Row ID (2), Narrative Order (), Chronological Order (), Sentiment, (Integer: Range between -5 and +5), Chapter (Iowa), Plot Points, Time, Primary Characters in Scene, Secondary Characters in Scene, Minor Characters in Scene, Word Count (247), Emotional Beat/Theme, Emotional State, Scene Function, Character Arc, External Stakes, Internal Stakes, Needs Clarification?, Revision Priority, Conflict Type, Turning Point?, Turning Point Direction, Direction Commentary, Reinforces, Undermines, Reveals, Conceals, Distorts, Inverts, Echoes, Revison Commentary, Punch List, Resolved?, Location

I know you’ve heard this before.

Boy meets girl. Different places. Different cultures.

Not quite Romeo and Juliet. Not yet, anyway.

It could’ve been Nebraska. Montana. Oklahoma.

But it wasn’t. We’re in Iowa.

I remember the first time I saw her—or saw them.

But I want to talk about her.

And yes, the misunderstanding.

But I’ll get to that. Don’t rush me.

Everyone wants to hear about how Bruce died.

Another misunderstanding. These things happen.

It wasn’t her fault.

It wasn’t mine.

I wasn’t even there.

But she was. And he was.

Let’s go back to the start.

It was over a year ago.

A bit before that.

But first, let’s set the facts straight. I’m a 
regular guy. Graduated high school. Not some conspiracy theorist, if that’s what you’re thinking.

Never left Iowa. Not even for college. The furthest 
I’ve been’s Jake’s and the flea market a couple towns West. I know this place the way some folks know scripture—by scent, not verse. The way the soybean dust hits your throat during harvest. The way old barn wood smells after rain.

I believe in Jesus, but I’m not one of those Jesus freaks. Don’t paint me with that broad brush. 

And I’m not one of them incels either. I’ve had girls. I’ll tell you about Jake’s. I even had a girlfriend for a few weeks, but it didn’t work out. A guy needs some space. That’s all. I’m sure you know what I mean.

I find that ChatGPT isn’t great tracking within larger documents, so I’ll pass in a section at a time, as shown above. This is the first scene of the first chapter of Substance.

Noticing that this scene sets up a flashback to a year in the past, the narrative and chronological order values should differ. Since this is just an example, I hope you learn from my mistakes. Also, I’d reorder the columns next time, but I created this prompt in steps as I progressed.

You need to be careful about what AI outputs. Don’t take it all at face value. If you incorporate a lot of nuance or subtext, the AI will likely miss the point. AI is a low-context system. Most communication in the West (notably excepting the South in the United States) is high-context.

High-context cultures rely heavily on shared understanding, nonverbal cues, and implied meaning—much is left unsaid because context fills in the gaps.
Low-context cultures prioritise explicit, direct communication where meaning is made clear through words, not assumptions.

The AI picks out the plot points from your passage. This is usually uncontroversial.

The way ChatGPT uses Time could be better. This is almost an extension of the setting. What I was initially hoping for in my more complex story is a method to ensure my timeline wasn’t convoluted. I didn’t want to have a pregnancy delivery flashback to a conception two weeks earlier – unless that is an intentional plot point… or we’re talking about flies or something.

I find that some of the scene descriptions are a bit suss, but you can tweak them if they are too far off target. To be fair, you can share your manuscript with a dozen readers and get a dozen renditions – none of them in line with your own. It happens.

I commented on the Revision Commentary earlier. Just like a human editor, you can take or leave the advice. In the end, the writing is that of the author.

In many cases, you can ask the AI to elaborate: What do you mean it’s too long? or some such.

Or you can explain your intent. For example, I wrote another book and intentionally left it open-ended. The AI came back with, What happened?

I explained that the reader could draw their own conclusions, and the AI came into line.

One parting thought: You may pass the same passage through the same AI several times and get several outputs. They aren’t usually diametric, but be aware of this. Also, if you run this on Claude, Perplexity, or another platform, your results might vary there, too.

Anyway, if you got this far, what did you think? Do you use pilot grids? Do you use AI to assist in your editing? I use AI for research. Do you? Some people use AI for writing. I’m not as keen on this, but I’m not judging.

Book Review: The Emotional Craft of Fiction

Not Charlotte’s Web.

Instead, The Emotional Craft of Fiction: How to Write the Story Beneath the Surface by Donald Maass.

I just finished this book. I’ll say it’s good and even recommend it, but it’s not really for me. I wrote a blurb recently before I was even halfway through, and my opinion hasn’t changed.

Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.

If you like to write in typical, character-driven stories, this should be right up your street. Besides character depth, the author also pushes moral righteousness. Thanks, but no thanks.

All of this said, I did gain some benefits from it, because although my writing is not heavily centred on characters, it does contain them, and I want them to feel alive. I want the world to feel lived in.

Personally, I think in schemes and threads – big ideas, deep ideas. Once all of this is roughly in place, I take a second pass for details. This is where Maass can help.

Full disclosure: Some people adopt a plotting approach to writing, whilst others adopt a pantser approach. I fall somewhere in between. Moreover, I might write something from one perspective and the next from the other – and I might flip-flop back and forth.

As a plotter, I might have waypoints that I want to hit, ideas I want to explore. Sometimes, I write these down on paper, in a spreadsheet, or somewhere to keep myself honest. Other times, I have these plot points in mind, but I take a stream-of-consciousness approach, simply discovering the story as it unfolds under my fingertips. I may even plot half a story and “pants” the rest of it. No telling.

As a pantser, I might have a kernel of an idea, and I just want to ideate on the page. So, I write. I lock myself in my room, throw up a “Do Not Disturb” sign, and head down to write until the well of ideas runs dry. At this point, I might put the idea aside or step back and consider plot points.

Looking back on this post, it’s not so much a book review at all. Apologies. That said, if you write characters and enjoy mainstream writing approaches, I think you’ll find the ideas in this book helpful. Many of the better ideas are presented early on, but it’s a short read. He offers some authors, titles, and excerpts you might find interesting. I found them to be a mixed bag.

Dispatches from the Publishing Trenches: A Field Report

I, Ridley Park, am an independent author and publisher. Before this literary turn, I did time as an economist, business analyst, and management consultant – none of which prepared me for the peculiar economics of modern publishing.

Much like traditional music in the Digital Age, traditional publishing has lost a bit of its lustre. Its gatekeeping function remains, but the gates are now rusted, and half the guards have been made redundant.

Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.

From a business standpoint, the Independent™ must ask: Is the distribution reach of a traditional publisher or third-party distributor worth the revenue share they demand? It’s tempting to cast them as parasites feeding off your creative lifeblood—but statistically, the average indie author sells only 60 copies of their book. Yes, that includes the five you bought yourself and the ten your mum distributed among reluctant neighbours.

Could you sell more than average? Possibly. Less? Almost certainly. Better to sell 100 copies and earn a pittance than to earn 100% of nothing. But if the publisher can’t move your book either, and if they’re not investing in you as an author, you may well find yourself in the red. Especially if you’re the one paying them for the privilege of being published. That’s not publishing – that’s vanity cosplay.

Publishers also offer (read: upsell) services like editing, formatting, and cover design. As an Independent™, you either pay for these à la carte or do them yourself. Or, if you’re like me, you cobble together a mixed strategy of DIY, AI, and professional outsourcing – whatever the project demands.

For Hemo Sapiens, I did everything except the typography for the title and byline on the cover. That part I outsourced; I know my limits. The rest – cover composition, layout, typesetting – I handled. I also brought in beta readers, who offered some valuable copyedits and corrections.

With Sustenance, I went end-to-end solo, with AI in the wings for flow and proofing support.

Propensity followed a similar path – except I made the rare (some might say perverse) choice of hiring a beta reader after release. Heretical, I know. But the feedback was so incisive I’m now considering a mid-edition revision, particularly in the middle third, where things get a bit heady.

As for Temporal Babel – still unreleased – I’ve done everything myself thus far, but I’m leaning toward bringing that same beta reader back for another round of bruising clarity.

Beta readers, it turns out, are worth their weight in snark and red ink. I’ll save my ruminations on them for another post, which I promise will be full of revelations and at least one semi-poetic lament.

I could say more here, but there are other things demanding my time – and no publisher breathing down my neck.


Bless MidJourney for the cover art based on this prompt:

beautiful woman wearing glasses and a sheer top, holding a red pen, reading a book, office setting

New Video: Why I Write the Way I Do

Close-up of a human eye with digital glitch effects and overlaid text reading 'What if reality is wrong?'—a visual metaphor for distorted perception and unreliable truth.

Ever wondered why my characters are displaced, disillusioned, or linguistically marooned? Why my fiction leans philosophical, post-structural, and just a touch anti-humanist?

In this short video, I explain the underlying motivations behind my stories—from Heidegger’s Geworfenheit to Galen Strawson’s Causa Sui, with detours through identity, agency, and the lies we call language.

This isn’t about world-building. It’s about world-dismantling.

▶️ Watch now: Why I Write the Way I Do

Choosing Beta Readers

After my post yesterday on beta readers, I thought a short YouTube video might make a fine companion.


Here are the timestamps for the content:

  • 00:00 Intro – Why Beta Readers Matter
  • 00:24 What a Beta Reader *Is* (And Isn’t)
  • 01:04 Genre Mismatch: The Common Mistake
  • 01:25 How to Vet Your Beta Reader
  • 01:50 What Good Feedback Sounds Like
  • 02:05 What Bad Feedback Sounds Like
  • 02:18 Building the Relationship
  • 02:38 Final Thoughts (and a Warning)

I hope to create more content focused on writing, particularly my own writing.

Let me know in the comments if you like this and if you have any topics you’d like me to cover. Until then, it’s back to writing… ☼

The Beta Reader Is Not Your Mum (Unless Your Mum Gets Postmodern Alienation and Narrative Decay)

Let’s get one thing straight: not all feedback is good feedback. In fact, a depressingly large proportion of it is the literary equivalent of asking a vegan to review your steakhouse. Technically they read the menu, but were they ever really your audience?

Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.

We live in a culture that treats opinion like currency. Everyone’s got one. Everyone’s desperate to spend it. And nowhere is this more evident than in the world of beta reading—a supposedly sacred process in which brave authors hand over their embryonic manuscripts to friends, lovers, ex-wives, and total strangers in the desperate hope someone will “get it.” Most don’t.

Know Thy Manuscript (Before It’s Murdered by Committee)

Before you even think about soliciting feedback, ask yourself: do you actually know what your manuscript is? Is it a quiet literary allegory disguised as sci-fi? A philosophical middle finger wearing the trench coat of genre fiction? A slow-burn deconstruction of capitalism wrapped in alien gloop?

If you can’t answer that, neither can your beta reader. And you’ll deserve every clueless comment that comes slouching back across your inbox like a drunken tortoise.

Audience Matters. (No, Really.)

Let me put it in culinary terms for the metaphorically impaired: if someone hates seafood, they are not qualified to tell you whether your oysters are overcooked. They might be able to describe their gag reflex in exquisite detail, but that’s not useful culinary feedback—that’s autobiography.

Likewise, if your beta reader consumes nothing but cosy mysteries and thinks House of Leaves was “a bit confusing,” why in the name of Borges are you handing them your experimental novella about time, recursion, and the semiotics of grief?

I Know a Writer. I Know Your Pain.

A personal note, if I may. A close friend is a writer. A good one, in fact. But our ideas are so philosophically incompatible that they could be placed on opposite ends of a Möbius strip. Every time they read my work, they suggest alterations that, while technically well-formed, have the uncanny knack of annihilating the entire point of the piece. When I respond, “That’s a great idea—why don’t you write it?” they get cross.

Because here’s the truth: most beta readers don’t give you feedback on your book. They give you notes on the book they wish you’d written.

Signal vs Noise: Spotting the Useful Reader

There’s a simple test I use to distinguish signal from noise.

Bad beta feedback:

“I didn’t like the main character.”
“Why don’t they just call the police?”
“This story would be better with a love triangle.”

Good beta feedback:

“The way you structured the timeline echoes the narrator’s fragmentation—was that deliberate?”
“I wasn’t confused until Chapter 5, which made the earlier ambiguity retroactively frustrating.”
“The tonal shift on page 42 feels earned but abrupt—was that intentional?”

In short: good feedback interrogates execution. Bad feedback critiques intention.

The Beta Reader Interview (Yes, You Need One)

You wouldn’t hire a babysitter without asking if they’ve ever met a child. Why would you let someone babysit your manuscript without screening for genre literacy?

Ask them:

  • What do you normally read?
  • What do you hate reading?
  • Can you name a book you loved that nobody else seemed to?
  • Have you read [Insert book similar to yours]? Did you like it?

If they look at you blankly or start talking about Colleen Hoover, back away slowly.

The Beta Reader Zoo: Know Your Species

Here are a few common subspecies to watch for:

  • The Rewriter: Wants to turn your Kafkaesque nightmare into Eat, Pray, Love. Run.
  • The Literalist: “But how would that actually work in real life?” Mate, it’s a parable. About entropy.
  • The Cheerleader: “Loved it! Don’t change a thing!” (Translation: I skimmed it during Bake Off.)
  • The Cynic: Thinks everything is nihilistic, including your dedication page.
  • The Goldilocks: Rare. Reads the book you actually wrote, not the one they wish you had. Cultivate this one like a bonsai tree.

Curate, Don’t Crowdsource

Beta reading is not a democratic process. You are not running a focus group for toothpaste branding. You are searching for a handful of individuals who understand what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, and whether you’ve pulled it off—or fallen on your clever, post-structuralist arse.

Better three brilliant readers than thirty who think you should add a dragon in Chapter Two.

Final Thought

Your beta reader is not your editor. They’re not your therapist. And they’re definitely not your mum (unless your mum has an MA in critical theory and a fetish for broken narrative structures).

Choose wisely.

Or don’t – and enjoy reading thirty pages of feedback that begins, “I don’t usually read this sort of thing, but…”

PS: I love how Dall-E totally misfired on the cover image. lol

Why I Create Audiobooks for All My Books

This isn’t a promotional post. I’ve recently discovered the hidden value of audiobooks—and it has nothing to do with selling them.

Back in 2024, when I released Hemo Sapiens: Awakening, I must have read the manuscript a thousand times. I even recorded an audiobook, using an AI voice from ElevenLabs. At the time, Audible wouldn’t accept AI narration. The rules have since changed. It’s now available—though still not on Audible (and therefore not on Amazon).

I’d hired a few proofreaders and beta readers. They helped. The book improved. And yet, even after all that, I still found typos. Those bastards are insidious.

The real revelation came when I started listening.

Since I’d already created the audiobook, I began proofreading by ear. That’s when it hit me: hearing the story is nothing like reading it. Sentences that looked fine on the page fell flat aloud. So I rewrote passages—not for grammar, but for cadence, clarity, flow.

Then came the second benefit: catching mistakes. Typos. Tense slips. I favour first-person, present-tense, limited point of view—it’s immersive, intimate, synchronised with the protagonist’s thoughts. But sometimes, I slip. Listening helped catch those lapses, especially the subtle ones a skim-reading brain politely ignores.

For Sustenance, the audiobook was an afterthought. I submitted the print files, requested a proof copy, and while I waited, I rendered the audio. When the proof arrived, I listened instead of reading. I found errors. Again. Thanks to that timing, I could fix them before production. Of course, fixing the manuscript meant updating the audiobook. A pain—but worth it.

I hadn’t planned to make an audiobook for Propensity—some of the prose is too stylistic, too internal—but I did anyway, because of what I’d learned from Sustenance. And again, I found too many errors. Maybe I need better proofreaders. Or maybe this is just the fallback system now.

I’ve had Temporal Babel, a novelette, on hold for months. I won’t release it until I do the same: make an audiobook, listen, reconcile with the page.

Lesson learned.

I’ve got several more manuscripts waiting in the wings—some have been loitering there for over a year. Their release has been deprioritised for various reasons, but when they go out, they’ll have audio versions too. Not for the sake of listeners. For me.

Honestly, I should do this for my blog posts as well. But editing on the web is easier. The stakes are lower. Mistakes don’t print themselves in ink.

Temporal Babel: A Novelette

I just completed a second draft of a novelette I’ve been working on. I had ChatGPT (Dall-E) render a quick sample cover.

The story takes place in New Mexico, and I wanted a minimalist visual style to match the prose. I believe that a beige desert set against a blue sky is perfect. The deserted highway with a single cactus speaks volumes. The footprints in the desert are also evocative. I love the simplicity of the palette.

Though it revered the front and back cover art, it generally followed my instructions. Artificial intelligence (AI) has made significant progress in a year. All of the words are spelt correctly. I could Photoshop this into shape with little effort.

I only plan to release this as an ePUB because I am compiling a triptych. Currently, the body copy stands at 105 pages, so with title pages and the rest, it should reach 112 pages, which is perfect for seven 16-page signatures.

AutoCrit Challenges

I don’t hide the fact that I rely on AI for early editorial feedback. Once a story is complete, I break out AutoCrit. This programme works well for typical stories that follow standard practices with common tropes. It gets quite confused when I feed it intentionally awkward stories, not the least of which is to advise me to eliminate the awkwardness.

This is a challenge with AI more generally. In this particular story, I leave a lot of loose ends and misdirects, as it’s a commentary on the conspiracy-driven culture we inhabit. The advice, is along the lines of, “You forget to close this lopp. What happened to so and so.”

But this is life. We don’t always know the full story. We drive past an multi-car accident where cares are overturned and in flames, but we never find out what happens – even if we scour the newspapers and internet. Who was that? What happened? What caused it?

We often never find out. In most books and movies, we find out everythung, and it all comes packaged with a nice bow. This is what AI expects. It’s the diet it’s been fed.

Some stories subvert these notions here and there, but by and large, this is not typical American fare. Readers and viewers need to be spoonfed without inconsistencies.

Speaking of inconsistencies addressing one scene, AutoCrit said that a character should act impulsively in one situation and reserved moments later. This was flagged as an iinconsistent character.

In the scene, a woman stops her car immediately to help an injured man on the roadside, but as she gets out of her car an approaches her, she shows caution.

This was a red flag. Why would she have always been rash or always been cautious?

My response, because that how real people act. She acts on instinct but quickly considers that she’s a vulnerable woman alone with a man miles from anywhere.

I don’t suspect a human reader would find this surprising. This is the intelligence absent from Artificial Intelligence — cultural intelligence, a cousin of EQ, emotional quotient.

I know how I want the character to act. I do want AutoCrit to inform me that character A is wielding a pistol but then stabs another character, or that character B is a teetotaler and is getting drunk or that character C has a shellfish allergy but is downing lobsters like they’re going out of style. And I certainly what to be shown continuity errors.

The biggest challenge I have with AutoCrit that is less promonent with other AIs is that I can preface my content with a note explaining my intent. I can even do this after the fact.

If I feed ChatGPT, Claude, or DeepSeek a story of segment to critique without a preface, the responses may be similar to AutoCrit, but when I follow up with some meta, the response may be, “Now it makes sense, but why is John wearing lipstick?” Perhaps he’s metrosexual or non-traditional. Perhaps it’s an oversight.

I dont meán to demean AutoCrit. I’m just advising that if you are writing stories not compliant with 80 per cent of published works, take the advice with a grain of salt, or reserve AutoCrit for more standard fare.