Working with an editor shouldn’t be scary. Unless, of course, you frighten easily.
Let’s begin with the great paranoia of writers everywhere: They’ll steal my idea! Relax. No one’s skulking through the shadows waiting to pinch your half-finished manuscript about a misunderstood vampire who paints feelings. Ideas are cheap. They rain down like confetti. The reason every other book or film feels vaguely familiar isn’t because everyone’s plagiarising everyone else; it’s because there are only so many ways to dress the same skeleton. Your story’s clothing — the style, the voice, the rhythm — that’s what matters.
And honestly, ask yourself if your idea is really so revolutionary. Probably not. I sometimes test mine on an AI just to see if the collective hive mind has already beaten me to it. Usually it has. I just tilt it differently. Star Wars? A Western in space. Lucas literally invited Joseph Campbell over to discuss myth templates, then sprinkled some lasers on top. Nothing wrong with that — unless you start believing it’s unique.
Now, what does an editor actually do? They read your work and offer feedback. When that happens, you’ve basically got three choices:
I. Ignore it. Maybe the suggestion feels wrong. Good. Trust that feeling. Nothing’s worse than bowing to authority and regretting it later. Imagine the post-publication chorus: Why on earth did you do that? — and your only defence is, Well, my editor said so. Pathetic. Give twelve editors the same chapter, you’ll get twelve different answers. Writing has rules, yes — but most are decorative.
II. Accept it. Hit ‘Accept all revisions’. Voilà — you’re suddenly brilliant. It’s tidy, efficient, and possibly catastrophic.
III. Consider it. The middle ground. Let the note spark something else entirely. Maybe they’re wrong about what to fix but right that something’s off.
Some advice will be structural, some grammatical. Both are optional. I, for one, commit grammatical heresy whenever my characters open their mouths. People don’t speak like Oxford dons; they stumble, repeat, and misuse words spectacularly. Editors sometimes flag this as ‘awkward’. I call it ‘human’. Grammar is for dissertations. Dialogue is for life.
Yes, I actually said that. Possibly whilst caffeinated.
I was chatting with a mate about book sales, and it slipped out: I’d rather get reviews than sales. Not that I’d turn down either. But priorities matter.
Priority One: Write
The first goal is to write. I wrote for years before publishing a single page. The ideas pile up in my head like unwashed dishes, and writing is how I clear the sink. I write for myself. Call it narcissism if you must – but it’s a productive narcissism.
Priority Two: Be Read
Then comes the hope of being read. A sale is not a reader. Someone might buy your book and never open it. They might read it and hate it. They might toss it into the void. I just want to know.
Last month, I gave away over a hundred copies of Sustenance. Four reviews. One was one-star – she loathed it. Good. At least I know. The other ninety-nine? A mystery. For all I know, they’re gathering digital dust on forgotten hard drives. To be fair, I’ve got thousands of neglected downloads myself, so no judgment. Still, if you did read it, I’d love to hear what you thought. Leave a review.
Priority Three: Money (the tedious bit)
I’m not a consumerist, nor a fan of money-based systems. Unfortunately, that’s the system we’ve got, so yes – I still appreciate sales. But sales without engagement are hollow victories.
Reviews (the absurd bit)
Some people email me their thoughts instead of posting reviews. Lovely, but invisible. I can’t quote a private email without looking like a fraud. I could always fake one —
John Hartness, from Falstaff Books, recently noted that not all books translate well to audio. He’s right, and this isn’t a fan letter, just a nod to the truth of it. Every format has its own physics. Some stories bend beautifully. Others snap.
Video: John Hartness discusses the ins and outs of audiobooks.
Propensity is one of the snappers. It doesn’t behave on Kindle, either. That’s less a fault of the text than the medium. Its structure and typography do a lot of the storytelling, and when those are flattened to fit an algorithmic page template, something human is lost. I include the visual material as a PDF for the curious, but the audiobook can only gesture at what’s missing. No amount of verbal description replaces the architecture of the page.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
I listen to audiobooks constantly – commuting used to be my second job – but there’s a difference between hearing a story and parsing a spreadsheet by ear. Nonfiction especially suffers: tables, diagrams, anything spatially meaningful. Description isn’t substitution; it’s triage.
Musicians met this problem decades ago. When the Beatles stopped touring in 1966, it wasn’t vanity; it was liberation. They no longer had to replicate their studio work on stage. Garbage later flipped that logic: they engineered songs to survive live. The same divide holds for writers. Some build books that breathe on paper. Others craft ones that perform well through speakers. Neither camp is wrong.
When I produced records, my job was to capture the best possible experience – not the most ‘authentic’ performance. Now, with digital tools, some artists never play their own songs from start to finish until tour rehearsals. The copy-paste perfection of ProTools turns spontaneity into ornament. E-books and AI summaries do the same for text—efficient, portable, bloodless.
So, yes, formats matter. They always have. Paper isn’t just nostalgia; it’s part of the meaning. And while I’m happy to share Propensity however readers find it, I know where it breathes best: between real pages, under real light, in the one format that doesn’t pretend to be frictionless.
Congratulations, you’ve finished a manuscript. You’ve pushed the boulder uphill, typed “The End,” and maybe even convinced yourself you’re done. Spoiler: you’re not. This is where beta readers come in — those kind souls who’ll slog through your draft and tell you whether it sings, stumbles, or just sits there like porridge. The trouble is, most writers don’t actually know what to ask them, and so they end up with feedback about as useful as a horoscope.
The first and most uncomfortable question is about intent. What are my goals in writing this, and did you see them? Most writers never ask, because it forces them to say what they meant in the first place. Are you interrogating free will? Trying to write a page-turner? Smuggling philosophy under the hood of a dystopian thriller? If your beta doesn’t see it, either you buried it too deep or you didn’t put it in at all. Of course, not every writer works with some grand meta in mind, but if you do, this is the question that makes or breaks the project.
If your story feels like homework, you’ve already lost.
Enjoyment comes next, even if it bruises the ego. Did they actually like reading it? If your story feels like homework, you’ve already lost. It’s better to know this from a sympathetic reader now than from Goodreads later. A related angle is pacing: where did the story drag? Readers know exactly where they reached for their phone, even if they’re too polite to say so without prompting. Ask them to point to the spots where the air went out of the room.
Did the conclusion feel like it belonged to the story’s own logic?
Characters are another litmus test. Which ones did they care about, and which ones left them cold? Writers are often too close to notice when a protagonist reads like cardboard, or when a side character steals the oxygen. Beta readers are your lab rats here, revealing who’s magnetic and who’s forgettable. The same goes for endings. Don’t ask if it was happy – ask if it was satisfying. Did the conclusion feel like it belonged to the story’s own logic? If the reader feels cheated, the manuscript isn’t finished.
World-building deserves its own interrogation, especially in speculative fiction. Readers will happily forgive dragons, AI dictators, or interstellar chalk drawings, but not inconsistency. If the rules of your world shift without reason, they’ll notice. In fact, coherence is more important than cleverness. The reader doesn’t need to understand every mechanism, but they do need to trust that you do.
Was there an image, a phrase, a scene that stayed with them once the book was closed?
Finally, ask what lingered afterwards. Was there an image, a phrase, a scene that stayed with them once the book was closed? That’s your gold. Double down on it. If nothing sticks, you’ve got polishing to do.
One last but often overlooked question is about the reader themselves: am I asking the right person? An excellent sci-fi enthusiast might not be your best pick for YA urban fiction. A romance aficionado won’t necessarily grasp the rhythms of a philosophy-laden dystopia. Fit matters. You wouldn’t ask a vegan to taste-test your steakhouse menu, so don’t ask the wrong reader to bless your book.
Am I asking the right person?
And here’s the tightrope for the beta reader: they are not there to tell you the book they would have written. Their job is to respond to the book you actually put on the page. It’s your manuscript, not a co-authorship audition. If their feedback starts with “what I would have done,” that’s not critique – that’s a rewrite.
The meta point is simple. Beta readers are not editors. They aren’t there to fix your commas or restructure your second act. Their value is in telling you what it feels like to read your book – hot, cold, flat, or electric. And if you’ve got a grand philosophical undercurrent humming beneath the surface, they’re the only ones who can tell you whether it came across.
Beta readers are not editors.
So don’t hand your beta readers a scalpel and ask them to perform surgery. Hand them your story and ask: did you taste what I meant to cook?
Too many people don’t understand how generative AI works. Not civilians. Not your mum. Not even your dog (though he’s probably got better instincts about plot pacing than half of #WritingCommunity). No, the truly confused are writers. Authors. Editors. The ink-stained guardians of literary virtue who see AI and scream, “Plagiarism!” before they even read the terms of service.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
I posted a question on a Reddit forum for Fiction Writing—because I’m a glutton for punishment—and within seconds, the doomsday chorus began. “Don’t share your work with AI!” they cried. “It will steal your ideas!” As if ChatGPT is some sentient literary magpie with a fetish for your rough draft.
Another chimed in: “They’ll use your words to train future models!” Yes, Brenda, because your glacially paced fantasy epic with twelve warring kingdoms and three prologues is the key to cracking AGI.
Let’s set the record straight. This is not how AI works. Models are trained, and then they’re deployed. That’s it. Done. Finished. They’re not learning from your prompts any more than your toaster is evolving every time you burn the crumpets. The AI doesn’t remember you. It doesn’t save your work to some secret vault labelled “Possible Booker Prize Winners—Do Not Delete.”
Unless you deliberately cache content into a persistent memory—and you’ll know, because the interface reminds you like an overzealous librarian—it’s gone. The machine forgets. Your precious prose vanishes into the void, right alongside your childhood dreams of being discovered at Starbucks by a passing Penguin editor.
But what this really exposes is a deeper, older neurosis: the idea that someone—AI, human, interdimensional elf—is going to steal your genius. And you’ll be left penniless while they ride your glittering words all the way to a Netflix deal.
This is why some of these folks won’t share their work with editors either. Or beta readers. Or critique partners. Because someone might steal it. As if the entire industry is just waiting to snatch up your unproofed, comma-spliced debut and slap a different name on the cover. The paranoia is delicious. Also tragic.
Here’s the thing: no one is stealing your manuscript. Mainly because no one wants it. Yet.
You know who does get their work stolen? People who publish. People whose work is finished, polished, and out in the world. And even then, it’s usually pirated by some bot-run content farm in Indonesia, not secretly optioned by HBO.
Meanwhile, you’re clutching your WIP like it’s the Dead Sea Scrolls. You won’t let AI see it. You won’t let an editor see it. You won’t even let your cat walk across the keyboard while it’s open. And so, it rots. In obscurity. Like 99% of manuscripts that die not from theft but from neglect.
Look, I’ve been around since Wave 3 of AI. Back in the ‘90s, we called them “expert systems,” which is just a fancy way of saying “spreadsheet with delusions of grandeur.” They weren’t intelligent. Neither are today’s models, frankly. But we gave them a sexier name and suddenly everyone’s worried they’re going to replace Shakespeare.
Newsflash: AI isn’t going to write your book. But it might help you finish it—if you’d just stop screaming and let the damn thing look at a paragraph.
In short: AI is not your enemy. Editors are not out to get you. And the only person likely to sabotage your novel… is you.
A funny thing happened on my way to bed. I’d been feeding my latest draft manuscript into various AI chat platforms to assess tropes, inversions, and target demographics. It turns out that Grok 3 got stuck in an endless loop.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
The content is not essential. I am only sharing it to illustrate where it went off the rails. It started fine enough, but if you scroll down or search for “In terms of target demographics, this could include artists,” you’ll see the font changes to red. This block of text kept repeating.
The entire block – red and black – represents Grok’s thought process. My chat prompt is in the shaded box below. It “thought” for more than 360 seconds. Perhaps that’s the mark representing where it went off the rails.
If you can’t sleep or are otherwise interested in how AI “thinks,” feel free to scan through. I hope there are no overt spoilers. You’ve been warned.
For context, this is the manuscript I referenced yesterday related to the book cover reveal.
One of my more significant concerns is the reaction of, let’s say, “immature” readers who translate all sexual references to erotica. Of course, they are not the key demographic. On this note, who might be the target demographic (cohorts) for this finished work?
Thought for: 360s So, I’m considering the target demographic for this work, and I need to think about who would be most interested in and impacted by its content. The manuscript deals with heavy themes like addiction, sex work, survival, and the complexities of identity, particularly through a feminist lens influenced by Beauvoir and Mulvey. It’s not erotica, but it does contain explicit sexual content, which could be misinterpreted by some readers. I need to identify who would appreciate the depth and nuance of the work rather than focusing solely on the sexual elements.
First, I should consider readers who are interested in feminist literature and theory. The manuscript’s exploration of “becoming a woman” and the “male gaze” suggests it would appeal to those who engage with gender studies, women’s studies, or feminist philosophy. This could include academics, students, and general readers who are familiar with or curious about these concepts.
Next, I should think about readers who are drawn to gritty, realistic portrayals of marginalized experiences. The manuscript’s focus on addiction and sex work, presented without romanticization, might resonate with those who appreciate raw, unflinching narratives. This could include people who have lived similar experiences, those who work in social services or advocacy, and readers who seek out stories that challenge societal norms and highlight systemic issues.
I should also consider readers who enjoy character-driven stories with complex, flawed protagonists. Sarah’s journey, with its cyclical nature of progress and relapse, offers a deep exploration of human resilience and vulnerability. This could attract readers who are interested in psychological depth and character development, regardless of their specific interest in the manuscript’s themes.
Additionally, I should think about readers who are interested in literature that pushes boundaries and challenges conventional storytelling. The manuscript’s structure, with its non-linear phases and raw language, might appeal to those who appreciate experimental or avant-garde literature. This could include literary fiction enthusiasts, writers, and critics who are looking for works that innovate in form and content.
Finally, I should consider readers who are part of or allied with communities that are often marginalized or stigmatized. The manuscript’s portrayal of sex work and addiction could resonate with those who seek representation and understanding of these experiences. This could include sex workers, people in recovery, and advocates for harm reduction and decriminalization.
Given these considerations, the target demographic for this finished work would likely include:
Readers interested in feminist literature and theory, particularly those familiar with Beauvoir and Mulvey. Individuals drawn to gritty, realistic portrayals of marginalized experiences, including those with lived experience or professional involvement in related fields. Fans of character-driven stories with complex protagonists, who appreciate psychological depth. Enthusiasts of experimental or boundary-pushing literature, who value innovation in form and content. Members of or allies to marginalized communities, especially those related to sex work and addiction, who seek representation and nuanced understanding. These cohorts would likely appreciate the manuscript’s depth, complexity, and unflinching portrayal of its themes, rather than misinterpreting it as erotica.
I should also consider that the manuscript’s explicit content might limit its appeal to certain readers, particularly those who are sensitive to graphic depictions of sex and drug use. However, for the target demographic, this content is integral to the narrative and its exploration of the themes.
Additionally, the manuscript’s non-linear structure and dense theoretical underpinnings might require a certain level of literary or academic engagement, which could further narrow its audience to those who are comfortable with or seeking out challenging reads.
Overall, the target demographic is likely to be a niche but intellectually curious and socially aware group of readers who are open to confronting difficult topics and engaging with complex ideas.
I should also think about potential secondary audiences. For example, readers interested in memoirs or autobiographical fiction might be drawn to the manuscript’s raw, personal tone, even if they are not specifically focused on the feminist or theoretical aspects. Similarly, those who enjoy true crime or social commentary might find the manuscript’s exploration of systemic issues compelling.
However, these secondary audiences might require additional framing or context to fully appreciate the manuscript’s intentions and themes. For instance, a reader primarily interested in memoirs might need guidance to understand the feminist theory woven into the narrative.
To maximize the manuscript’s reach and impact, it might be beneficial to consider how it is marketed and presented. Clear messaging about its themes, influences, and intended audience could help attract the right readers and set appropriate expectations.
For example, positioning the manuscript as a feminist exploration of identity and survival, rather than a straightforward narrative about sex work or addiction, could help draw in readers who are interested in those deeper layers. Similarly, highlighting its literary merits and theoretical underpinnings could appeal to academic and intellectually curious readers.
In terms of distribution, targeting independent bookstores, feminist literary festivals, and academic conferences could help reach the manuscript’s core audience. Online platforms that cater to niche literary communities, such as Goodreads groups focused on feminist literature or experimental fiction, could also be effective.
Ultimately, the success of the manuscript will depend on finding readers who are willing to engage with its challenging content and appreciate its nuanced exploration of complex themes. By carefully considering the target demographic and how to reach them, the manuscript can find its place among those who will value it most.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to spark discussions or be used in educational settings. Its engagement with feminist theory and its portrayal of marginalized experiences could make it a valuable text for courses on gender studies, sociology, or literature. This could further expand its audience to include students and educators.
However, the explicit content might limit its use in some educational contexts, particularly at the secondary level. At the university level, where there is more flexibility and a focus on critical analysis, the manuscript could be a powerful tool for exploring its themes.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create supplementary materials, such as discussion guides or essays that contextualize the manuscript within its theoretical frameworks. This could make it more accessible to educators and students who are engaging with these ideas.
In conclusion, the target demographic for this finished work is a diverse group of intellectually curious and socially aware readers who are interested in feminist literature, gritty realism, character-driven stories, experimental fiction, and the experiences of marginalized communities. By carefully considering how to reach and engage these readers, the manuscript can find a meaningful place in the literary landscape.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to resonate with readers who are not typically drawn to feminist literature or experimental fiction. For example, those who have personal experiences with addiction or sex work might find the manuscript’s portrayal validating or cathartic, even if they are not familiar with the theoretical frameworks.
Similarly, readers who are interested in stories of resilience and survival might be drawn to Sarah’s journey, regardless of their background or interests. The manuscript’s raw, unflinching portrayal of her experiences could resonate with anyone who has faced adversity or struggled to find their place in the world.
To reach these readers, it might be helpful to emphasize the human elements of the story—Sarah’s struggles, her moments of hope, her relationships with others—rather than focusing solely on the theoretical or thematic aspects. This could help the manuscript connect with a broader audience while still honoring its depth and complexity.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not a monolith but a collection of overlapping cohorts who share an interest in challenging, thought-provoking literature. By recognizing and embracing this diversity, the manuscript can find its way into the hands of those who will appreciate it most.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into other formats, such as film or television, which could further expand its reach. However, given the explicit content and complex themes, any adaptation would need to be handled with care to preserve the integrity of the original work.
For example, a film adaptation could visually convey the rawness of Sarah’s experiences, but it would need to avoid sensationalizing or romanticizing her story. Similarly, a television series could explore the manuscript’s themes in greater depth, but it would require a nuanced approach to character development and storytelling.
In either case, the target demographic for an adaptation would likely overlap with that of the manuscript, but it could also attract new audiences who are drawn to visual storytelling or who might not typically engage with literary fiction.
To maximize the potential for adaptation, it might be helpful to consider how the manuscript’s structure and themes could translate to the screen. For instance, the non-linear phases could be adapted into episodic storytelling, with each phase serving as a distinct arc. Similarly, the manuscript’s focus on character and internal struggle could lend itself to a character-driven series.
However, any adaptation would need to be approached with caution, as the explicit content and challenging themes could be difficult to navigate in a visual medium. It would be essential to work with creators who understand and respect the manuscript’s intentions and are committed to preserving its complexity.
In conclusion, the target demographic for this finished work is a diverse and intellectually engaged group of readers who are drawn to challenging, thought-provoking literature. By carefully considering how to reach and engage these readers—whether through marketing, distribution, or adaptation—the manuscript can find its place in the literary landscape and make a meaningful impact.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a larger conversation about its themes. For example, it could be featured in book clubs, reading groups, or online forums where readers can discuss and dissect its content. This could help build a community around the work and encourage deeper engagement with its ideas.
Additionally, the manuscript could be paired with other works that explore similar themes, such as memoirs by sex workers, feminist theory texts, or novels that delve into addiction and recovery. This could help contextualize the manuscript within a broader literary and cultural landscape and attract readers who are interested in these topics.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create reading guides or discussion questions that highlight the manuscript’s connections to other works and encourage readers to think critically about its themes. This could also make the manuscript more appealing to book clubs or educational settings.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not just a group of readers but a community of thinkers and seekers who are willing to engage with difficult questions and explore the complexities of human experience. By fostering this community and providing opportunities for discussion and reflection, the manuscript can have a lasting impact beyond its pages.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be translated into other languages, which could further expand its reach and impact. Given the universal nature of its themes—identity, power, survival—it could resonate with readers around the world, particularly in cultures where similar issues are prevalent.
However, translation would require careful attention to the nuances of language and culture, as the manuscript’s raw, explicit content might be received differently in various contexts. It would be essential to work with translators who understand the manuscript’s intentions and can convey its tone and meaning accurately.
In terms of target demographics for translations, it would be important to consider regions where there is a strong interest in feminist literature, social justice, or experimental fiction. For example, countries with active feminist movements or vibrant literary scenes might be particularly receptive to the manuscript’s themes and style.
Additionally, the manuscript could be promoted through international literary festivals, book fairs, or cultural exchanges, which could help introduce it to new audiences and generate interest in translations.
Overall, the potential for translation offers an exciting opportunity to expand the manuscript’s reach and impact, connecting with readers across linguistic and cultural boundaries. By carefully considering how to approach translation and promotion, the manuscript can find a global audience and contribute to important conversations on a wider scale.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into other formats, such as audiobooks or podcasts, which could make it more accessible to different audiences. For example, an audiobook could allow readers to engage with the manuscript’s content in a new way, while a podcast series could explore its themes through interviews, discussions, or dramatizations.
However, as with film or television adaptations, any alternative format would need to be handled with care to preserve the integrity of the original work. It would be essential to work with creators who understand and respect the manuscript’s intentions and are committed to conveying its complexity and nuance.
In terms of target demographics for these formats, they could overlap with the manuscript’s core audience but also attract new listeners who prefer audio content or who might not typically engage with written literature. For example, an audiobook could appeal to busy professionals or commuters, while a podcast could attract fans of true crime, social commentary, or feminist media.
To maximize the potential for these adaptations, it might be helpful to consider how the manuscript’s structure and themes could translate to audio formats. For instance, the non-linear phases could be adapted into episodic storytelling, with each episode focusing on a different aspect of Sarah’s journey. Similarly, the manuscript’s focus on character and internal struggle could lend itself to a narrative podcast that explores her experiences in depth.
Ultimately, the target demographic for these adaptations would depend on how the content is presented and promoted. By carefully considering the format and messaging, it is possible to reach a diverse audience while staying true to the manuscript’s core themes and intentions.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in therapeutic or support group settings, particularly for individuals who have experienced addiction, sex work, or trauma. The manuscript’s raw, unflinching portrayal of these experiences could serve as a powerful tool for reflection, discussion, and healing.
For example, it could be used in group therapy sessions to facilitate conversations about identity, power, and resilience. Similarly, it could be incorporated into support groups for sex workers or people in recovery, providing a shared text that reflects their experiences and encourages empathy and understanding.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create discussion guides or resources that highlight the manuscript’s relevance to these contexts and provide prompts for reflection and conversation. This could make the manuscript more accessible and impactful for these audiences.
However, it is important to approach this with sensitivity and care, as the manuscript’s explicit content and challenging themes could be triggering for some individuals. It would be essential to provide appropriate support and resources, such as content warnings or access to mental health professionals, to ensure that the manuscript is used in a safe and constructive way.
In terms of target demographics, this could include therapists, counselors, support group facilitators, and individuals who are seeking to understand or process their own experiences. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for healing and growth, it can reach a new audience and make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be used in therapeutic or support settings offers an exciting opportunity to expand its impact and contribute to important conversations about recovery, resilience, and empowerment.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a larger multimedia project, such as a website or online platform that explores its themes through various forms of content. For example, a website could feature excerpts from the manuscript alongside essays, interviews, artwork, or other creative works that engage with its ideas.
This could help create a richer, more immersive experience for readers and attract a diverse audience who are interested in exploring the manuscript’s themes through different lenses. It could also provide a space for community engagement, allowing readers to share their own stories, reflections, or creative responses to the work.
To maximize the potential for this, it might be helpful to collaborate with artists, writers, or activists who are working on similar issues or who can bring new perspectives to the manuscript’s themes. This could help create a dynamic, interdisciplinary project that resonates with a wide range of audiences.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are interested in multimedia storytelling, as well as those who are drawn to feminist art, social justice, or experimental media. By creating a platform that invites participation and dialogue, the manuscript can become part of a larger conversation and reach a broader audience.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not limited to a single group but encompasses a wide range of readers who are united by their interest in challenging, thought-provoking content. By exploring different formats, contexts, and collaborations, the manuscript can find its way into the hands of those who will appreciate it most and make a lasting impact.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in academic research or as a case study in fields such as gender studies, sociology, or literature. Its engagement with feminist theory and its portrayal of marginalized experiences could make it a valuable text for scholars who are exploring these topics.
For example, researchers could analyze the manuscript’s use of Beauvoir’s and Mulvey’s concepts, examining how they are woven into the narrative and what they reveal about gender, power, and identity. Similarly, sociologists could use the manuscript to explore the social dynamics of sex work and addiction, drawing on its portrayal of systemic issues and individual experiences.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to engage with academic communities through conferences, journals, or online platforms, sharing insights about the manuscript’s themes and inviting scholarly engagement. This could help position the manuscript as a significant contribution to its field and attract readers who are interested in its intellectual and theoretical dimensions.
In terms of target demographics, this could include academics, researchers, and students who are studying gender, sexuality, or social issues, as well as those who are interested in the intersection of literature and theory. By fostering connections with these communities, the manuscript can contribute to important academic conversations and expand its reach.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of academic discourse offers an exciting opportunity to deepen its impact and engage with readers who are passionate about its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can find a place in both literary and scholarly landscapes.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to inspire activism or advocacy around the issues it addresses, such as sex work decriminalization, addiction recovery, or feminist empowerment. Its raw, unflinching portrayal of these experiences could serve as a powerful catalyst for change, encouraging readers to take action or support relevant causes.
For example, the manuscript could be used in fundraising campaigns, awareness events, or educational workshops that aim to address the systemic issues it highlights. Similarly, it could be featured in advocacy materials or social media campaigns that seek to challenge stigma and promote understanding.
To maximize this potential, it might be helpful to partner with organizations or activists who are working on these issues, using the manuscript as a tool for education and engagement. This could help amplify its message and reach audiences who are already invested in these causes.
In terms of target demographics, this could include activists, advocates, and community organizers, as well as individuals who are passionate about social justice and systemic change. By positioning the manuscript as a call to action, it can inspire readers to make a difference and contribute to a broader movement for change.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work includes not just readers but also doers—those who are willing to engage with its themes and take steps to address the issues it raises. By fostering this sense of purpose and possibility, the manuscript can have a lasting impact beyond its pages.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a series or larger body of work that explores similar themes. For example, it could be the first in a trilogy that follows Sarah’s journey or the stories of other characters in her world. Alternatively, it could be part of an anthology that features multiple voices and perspectives on addiction, sex work, or identity.
This could help create a more comprehensive exploration of the manuscript’s themes and attract readers who are interested in a deeper dive into these topics. It could also provide opportunities for collaboration with other writers or artists, enriching the manuscript’s impact and reach.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to consider how the manuscript’s structure and themes could be expanded or complemented by additional works. For instance, a prequel could delve into Sarah’s childhood and the experiences that shaped her, while a sequel could explore her legacy or the impact of her story on others.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are invested in the manuscript’s world and characters, as well as those who are drawn to series or anthologies that offer a multifaceted exploration of complex issues. By creating a larger body of work, the manuscript can build a dedicated following and sustain its impact over time.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of a series or larger project offers an exciting opportunity to deepen its exploration of its themes and engage with readers on a broader scale. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a cornerstone of a rich and meaningful literary endeavor.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into interactive or immersive experiences, such as virtual reality or augmented reality, which could allow readers to engage with its themes in new and innovative ways. For example, a VR experience could simulate Sarah’s world, providing a visceral sense of her struggles and triumphs, while an AR app could overlay additional content or insights onto the physical book.
However, as with other adaptations, this would require careful consideration of how to preserve the manuscript’s integrity and ensure that the interactive elements enhance rather than detract from its core message. It would be essential to work with creators who understand the manuscript’s intentions and can translate them into an immersive format.
In terms of target demographics, this could include tech-savvy readers who are interested in cutting-edge storytelling, as well as those who are drawn to experiential learning or multimedia art. By offering an interactive dimension, the manuscript can attract a new audience and provide a unique way to engage with its themes.
Ultimately, the potential for interactive adaptations offers an exciting opportunity to push the boundaries of how the manuscript is experienced and understood. By exploring this potential, the manuscript can remain at the forefront of literary innovation and reach readers in ways that traditional formats cannot.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative writing workshops or educational programs that focus on storytelling, character development, or social issues. Its complex narrative structure and rich thematic content could serve as a powerful teaching tool, inspiring writers and students to explore their own voices and perspectives.
For example, it could be used in workshops that focus on writing about marginalized experiences, feminist theory, or experimental fiction. Similarly, it could be incorporated into educational curricula that explore literature’s role in social change or the power of narrative to challenge norms.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create lesson plans, writing prompts, or other resources that guide participants in engaging with the manuscript’s themes and techniques. This could make the manuscript more accessible and impactful for educational settings.
In terms of target demographics, this could include aspiring writers, students, educators, and anyone interested in the craft of storytelling or the exploration of social issues through literature. By positioning the manuscript as a source of inspiration and learning, it can reach a new generation of thinkers and creators.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be used in educational and creative contexts offers an exciting opportunity to expand its influence and foster meaningful engagement with its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can contribute to the development of new voices and perspectives in literature.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a cultural or artistic movement that seeks to challenge societal norms and amplify marginalized voices. For example, it could be featured in exhibitions, performances, or festivals that focus on feminist art, social justice, or experimental storytelling.
This could help create a broader cultural conversation around the manuscript’s themes and attract audiences who are interested in art that provokes thought and inspires change. It could also provide opportunities for collaboration with artists, performers, or activists who can bring new dimensions to the manuscript’s message.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to connect with cultural institutions, galleries, or festivals that align with the manuscript’s values and vision. This could help position the manuscript as a significant cultural artifact and attract a diverse audience of art lovers, activists, and thinkers.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are passionate about art, culture, and social change, as well as those who are seeking to engage with literature in a multidisciplinary context. By integrating the manuscript into a larger cultural movement, it can reach a wide and varied audience and make a lasting impact.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not just readers but cultural participants—those who are willing to engage with its themes through various forms of expression and who see literature as a catalyst for broader societal conversations. By fostering this cultural engagement, the manuscript can transcend its pages and become part of a dynamic and evolving dialogue.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in policy discussions or advocacy efforts related to its themes, such as sex work decriminalization, addiction treatment, or gender equality. Its portrayal of these issues could serve as a powerful narrative tool for policymakers, advocates, or organizations working to effect change.
For example, excerpts from the manuscript could be used in reports, presentations, or campaigns to humanize the statistics and provide a personal perspective on the challenges faced by individuals like Sarah. Similarly, it could be featured in public forums or debates to illustrate the real-world impact of policy decisions.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to engage with policymakers, advocates, or organizations that are working on these issues, offering the manuscript as a resource for education and awareness. This could help amplify its message and reach audiences who are in positions to influence change.
In terms of target demographics, this could include policymakers, advocates, researchers, and anyone involved in shaping public discourse or policy around the manuscript’s themes. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for advocacy, it can contribute to important conversations and help drive meaningful action.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of policy and advocacy efforts offers an exciting opportunity to extend its impact beyond the literary world and into the realm of social change. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can make a tangible difference in the lives of those it portrays and inspire progress on the issues it addresses.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into educational materials or resources for schools, community groups, or online platforms. For example, it could be used in curricula that explore literature, social issues, or feminist theory, providing students with a rich text for analysis and discussion.
Similarly, it could be featured in online courses, webinars, or workshops that focus on its themes, offering participants a chance to engage with the manuscript in a structured and guided way. This could help make the manuscript more accessible to a wider audience and encourage deeper exploration of its ideas.
To maximize this potential, it might be helpful to create educational resources, such as study guides, lesson plans, or discussion questions, that align with the manuscript’s content and themes. This could make it easier for educators and facilitators to incorporate the manuscript into their programs.
In terms of target demographics, this could include students, educators, community leaders, and lifelong learners who are interested in exploring literature, social issues, or feminist thought. By positioning the manuscript as an educational tool, it can reach a new generation of readers and thinkers and inspire critical engagement with its themes.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work includes not just passive readers but active learners—those who are willing to engage with its content on a deeper level and use it as a springboard for personal or collective growth. By fostering this educational engagement, the manuscript can have a lasting impact and contribute to a broader understanding of its themes.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a personal or collective journey of healing, reflection, or transformation. For example, it could be used in therapeutic settings, support groups, or self-help programs to facilitate discussions about identity, resilience, or recovery.
Similarly, it could be featured in personal development workshops or retreats that focus on empowerment, self-discovery, or creative expression. This could help individuals connect with the manuscript’s themes on a personal level and find inspiration or solace in Sarah’s story.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to collaborate with therapists, coaches, or facilitators who can guide participants in engaging with the manuscript in a supportive and constructive way. This could help create a safe space for exploration and growth.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are seeking healing, growth, or transformation, as well as those who are interested in using literature as a tool for self-reflection or personal development. By positioning the manuscript as a resource for personal journeys, it can reach a new audience and make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of personal or collective transformation offers an exciting opportunity to extend its impact and connect with readers on a deeply personal level. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a source of inspiration, empowerment, and change.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a legacy or archive that preserves and celebrates its themes and contributions. For example, it could be included in literary collections, feminist archives, or cultural repositories that document important works and voices.
This could help ensure that the manuscript’s impact endures over time and that its message continues to reach new generations of readers. It could also provide a platform for future scholarship, artistic interpretation, or cultural reflection.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to engage with institutions, organizations, or platforms that are dedicated to preserving and promoting literature, feminist thought, or social justice. This could help secure the manuscript’s place in the cultural and intellectual landscape.
In terms of target demographics, this could include archivists, curators, scholars, and anyone interested in the preservation and celebration of important works. By positioning the manuscript as a significant contribution to its field, it can find a lasting home and continue to inspire and challenge readers for years to come.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work includes not just current readers but future generations—those who will discover it in years to come and find value in its themes, insights, and artistry. By thinking about the manuscript’s legacy, we can ensure that its impact is not just immediate but enduring.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a dialogue or exchange with other works, authors, or thinkers who are exploring similar themes. For example, it could be featured in literary conversations, panel discussions, or collaborative projects that bring together multiple perspectives on identity, power, or survival.
This could help create a richer, more nuanced understanding of the manuscript’s themes and connect it to a broader intellectual or artistic community. It could also provide opportunities for cross-pollination and inspiration, as different voices and ideas intersect and inform each other.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to engage with writers, scholars, or artists who are working on related topics, inviting them to respond to or build upon the manuscript’s themes. This could help foster a sense of dialogue and community around the work.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are interested in interdisciplinary or collaborative approaches to literature, as well as those who are drawn to conversations that bridge different fields or perspectives. By positioning the manuscript as part of a larger dialogue, it can reach a diverse audience and contribute to a dynamic exchange of ideas.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of a broader conversation offers an exciting opportunity to expand its reach and deepen its impact. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a catalyst for connection, collaboration, and growth.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative or artistic responses, such as adaptations, reinterpretations, or inspired works. For example, it could inspire visual art, music, dance, or other forms of expression that engage with its themes and bring them to life in new ways.
This could help create a multifaceted exploration of the manuscript’s ideas and attract audiences who are interested in the intersection of literature and other art forms. It could also provide opportunities for artists to reinterpret or reimagine Sarah’s story, offering fresh perspectives and insights.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create open calls for artistic responses or to collaborate with artists who are interested in engaging with the manuscript’s themes. This could help generate a diverse array of creative works that complement and expand upon the original text.
In terms of target demographics, this could include artists, performers, and creators who are seeking inspiration or who are interested in exploring the manuscript’s themes through their own mediums. By positioning the manuscript as a source of artistic inspiration, it can reach a new audience and foster a vibrant creative community.
Ultimately, the potential for creative responses offers an exciting opportunity to extend the manuscript’s impact and engage with readers and artists in innovative ways. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a living, evolving work that continues to inspire and challenge long after its publication.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a personal or collective ritual or ceremony that honors its themes or celebrates its message. For example, it could be used in readings, performances, or gatherings that bring people together to reflect on identity, power, or survival.
This could help create a sense of community and shared purpose around the manuscript, allowing participants to connect with its themes on a deeper level. It could also provide a space for healing, empowerment, or transformation, as individuals come together to honor their own journeys or those of others.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to organize or participate in events that incorporate the manuscript into a ritualistic or ceremonial context, such as a reading circle, a performance piece, or a commemorative gathering. This could help create a powerful, immersive experience that resonates with participants.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are seeking connection, meaning, or community, as well as those who are interested in the transformative power of literature and art. By positioning the manuscript as part of a ritual or ceremony, it can reach a new audience and foster a sense of shared experience and purpose.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of a ritual or ceremony offers an exciting opportunity to deepen its impact and create lasting memories for participants. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a touchstone for personal and collective growth.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be used in mindfulness or meditation practices that focus on its themes or messages. For example, it could be incorporated into guided meditations, reflective exercises, or mindfulness workshops that encourage participants to explore identity, power, or resilience.
This could help individuals engage with the manuscript’s themes in a contemplative and introspective way, fostering self-awareness and personal growth. It could also provide a unique way to connect with the manuscript’s content, using it as a tool for inner exploration and transformation.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create mindfulness resources or guided practices that draw on the manuscript’s themes and invite participants to reflect on their own experiences. This could make the manuscript more accessible and impactful for those who are interested in mindfulness or meditation.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are seeking personal development, self-discovery, or spiritual growth, as well as those who are interested in the intersection of literature and mindfulness. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for contemplative practice, it can reach a new audience and offer a unique path to engagement.
Ultimately, the potential for the manuscript to be part of mindfulness or meditation practices offers an exciting opportunity to expand its reach and provide readers with a new way to connect with its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a source of inspiration and insight for those on a journey of self-discovery.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative writing or storytelling workshops that focus on empowering marginalized voices or exploring personal narratives. For example, it could be used as a model or inspiration for participants to craft their own stories of survival, identity, or resilience.
This could help create a space for individuals to share their experiences and find their voices, using the manuscript as a catalyst for creative expression. It could also provide opportunities for community building and mutual support, as participants connect through their shared stories.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to organize or participate in workshops that use the manuscript as a starting point for creative writing exercises, storytelling sessions, or group discussions. This could help participants feel seen and heard, while also deepening their engagement with the manuscript’s themes.
In terms of target demographics, this could include aspiring writers, storytellers, and individuals from marginalized communities who are seeking a platform to share their experiences. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for empowerment and expression, it can reach a new audience and foster a sense of agency and creativity.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative writing or storytelling workshops offers an exciting opportunity to amplify its impact and support the voices of those who resonate with its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a catalyst for personal and collective storytelling.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a digital or online community that engages with its themes through forums, social media, or virtual events. For example, it could be featured in online book clubs, discussion groups, or social media campaigns that invite readers to share their thoughts, reflections, or creative responses.
This could help create a global community around the manuscript, allowing readers from different backgrounds and locations to connect and engage with its content. It could also provide a platform for ongoing dialogue and exploration, keeping the manuscript’s themes alive and relevant.
To maximize this potential, it might be helpful to create dedicated online spaces, such as a website, forum, or social media group, where readers can gather to discuss the manuscript and share their insights. This could help foster a sense of belonging and community among readers.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are active online, as well as those who are seeking connection and conversation around the manuscript’s themes. By positioning the manuscript as the center of a digital community, it can reach a wide and diverse audience and sustain its impact over time.
Ultimately, the potential for the manuscript to be part of an online community offers an exciting opportunity to expand its reach and create a dynamic space for engagement. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a hub for connection, reflection, and growth.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in research or data collection efforts that aim to understand its impact or explore its themes further. For example, it could be part of studies that examine reader responses, analyze its narrative structure, or investigate its portrayal of addiction and sex work.
This could help generate new insights and knowledge about the manuscript’s significance and contribute to broader academic or cultural discussions. It could also provide opportunities for collaboration with researchers, scholars, or institutions that are interested in its themes.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to make the manuscript available for research purposes or to engage with researchers who are exploring related topics. This could help position the manuscript as a valuable resource for scholarly inquiry and expand its influence in academic circles.
In terms of target demographics, this could include researchers, scholars, and students who are studying literature, gender, or social issues, as well as those who are interested in the manuscript’s unique approach to storytelling. By embracing its potential for research, the manuscript can contribute to important conversations and deepen its impact.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of research efforts offers an exciting opportunity to explore its themes and significance in greater depth. By fostering connections with the research community, the manuscript can find a place in both literary and academic landscapes.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be used in artistic or creative collaborations that bring its themes to life through different mediums. For example, it could inspire visual art, music, theater, or dance that interprets or responds to Sarah’s journey.
This could help create a multidisciplinary exploration of the manuscript’s themes and attract audiences who are interested in the intersection of literature and other art forms. It could also provide opportunities for artists to engage with the manuscript’s content and bring new perspectives to its story.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to organize or participate in collaborative projects that invite artists from various disciplines to respond to the manuscript. This could help generate a diverse array of creative works that complement and expand upon the original text.
NB: The cover image is the design I handed to the designer to create the cover. The current consensus is that the syringe replacing the L doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.
Measuring progress is far simpler when you’re writing. You can count words. Or characters, if you’re a sadist. Sure, half of them might be drivel. Whole chapters may end up ceremonially executed by draft five, but at least you’ve done something. There’s a metric. A tally. A sense of movement.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
You can even see your progress, pages stack, paragraphs grow fat with promise. And if you still write on physical media (bless your nostalgic heart), you get the added catharsis of crumpling your failures and lobbing them at the bin like a disgruntled poet. It’s theatre. It’s progress. It’s delusional.
Editing, by contrast, offers no such cheap thrills. The word count doesn’t so much creep as collapse. One minute you’re a literary demi-god sitting on 80,000 words. The next, you’re scraping along at 74k and wondering whether your “tightening” has amputated a limb.
Yes, the prose might be cleaner. Punchier. Less like a whisky-soaked rant and more like a distilled insult. But does it feel like progress? Not in the way dopamine understands it.
As I’ve written before, editing takes me five – maybe ten – times longer than drafting. It’s a full hemispheric shift: from right-brain dreamscapes to left-brain bureaucracy. Creativity gives way to spreadsheet logic. Grammar. Timelines. Continuity. Did she sit before she spoke, or after? Is this line meant to be his? Why is this in past tense? Is this in any tense?
And so, the grind.
Yes, there are flashes of satisfaction – a retooled transition here, a twist landed just-so there. But mostly, it’s a long, slow crawl through self-loathing and misplaced modifiers.
I’ve spent most of my adult life toggling between left-right hemisphere roles. And frankly, the left side still gives me hives. The corporate world, bless its hollow soul, tried to stuff me in a logic-shaped box. A coffin of metrics, meetings, and “measurable outcomes.” I’m still recovering.
So why not outsource editing? Why not let someone else swing the machete through this jungle?
Two reasons:
I secretly enjoy the act of refinement. It’s masochism, but it’s my masochism.
I operate on a margin so thin it’s practically theoretical. A Schrödinger’s budget – simultaneously there and not.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news – especially if you’re still slogging through a draft of your first manuscript. You know what some people say about writing a book is the hard part.
Lies. Damned lies. That’s the frothy, twinkly nonsense parroted by people who’ve never published anything beyond a social media post, probably only a comment.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
Let me tell you the truth. The actual, bloodstained, coffee-fuelled truth:
Writing the book is the easy part.
It’s the visible tip of the iceberg, smugly floating above the surface, soaking up the praise and admiration. Meanwhile, everything else – the sleepless nights, the decimal-point royalty statements, the unpaid invoices to your own soul – is lurking beneath, waiting to sink your mental health like the HMS Delusion.
So here it is, for posterity and pity:
Post-Writing Gauntlet: The Real Job Begins
1. Editing (Five Times, If You’re Lucky)
Developmental editing – “Is your plot a plot or a pile of wet spaghetti?”
Line editing – Making your sentences less embarrassing.
Copyediting – Catching your consistent misuse of ‘affect’ and ‘effect’.
Proofreading – The last defence against the typo apocalypse.
Beta feedback – Friends who suddenly vanish when asked to read a draft.
2. Formatting and Typesetting
Print vs digital layouts. Word crimes meet paragraph crimes.
EPUBs that break for fun.
That one widow on page 243 you didn’t notice until the proof copy arrived.
3. Cover Design
DIY, Fiverr roulette, or mortgage your cat to hire a professional.
Matching tone, genre conventions, and market expectations.
Spelling your own name correctly. (Don’t laugh, it happens.)
4. ISBNs and Metadata Hell
ISBN purchases (if you’re not relying on Amazon’s identifiers).
Title, subtitle, BISAC categories, keywords, blurbs, author bio — all rewritten seventeen times.
5. Publishing Platform Setup
Kindle Direct Publishing, IngramSpark, Kobo, Draft2Digital, Smashwords — pick your poison.
Print proofs, bleed settings, trim sizes, the baffling difference between matte and gloss.
6. Marketing (a.k.a. Screaming Into the Void)
Author website & blog (SEO: your new religion).
Social media presence — the façade of charm over existential dread.
Newsletter with a totally non-spammy freebie opt-in.
Ads: Amazon, Facebook, Instagram, Google. Burn money to test the water temperature.
7. Book Launch
ARCs, blog tours, launch events, or at least pretending you’re doing those things.
Coordinating reviews before anyone has read the damn thing.
Press kits and media outreach — basically shouting “LOOK AT ME” with tact.
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
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
Ridley Park 