(The Art of Specificity in Writing.)

And only in the end, in the conclusion, now that you have established devotion to the project and some credibility, can you share your interpretations of what it all means. Years of work reduced to as few words as possible only to be critiqued by panels of experts who often think it would be fascinating to add another variable into the mix. You learn to stand your ground. Data collection was completed eons ago.

Much of this formula is a recipe for being fully alive; learning from others, approaching each moment as precious and new with the lens of curiosity rather than predictability. Most importantly, allowing experience to teach and grow us, much like the interventions we use to shape the variables in our experiments. These are also the elements of good storytelling.

We want to get lost in the mystery, excited to see what comes next. We are all vicarious learners. It is so much easier to learn from someone else’s adversity rather than having to feel the burn from the hot stove on our own flesh. We are inspired by movement from victim to victor. We yearn to know how they did it. We want details so we can ascribe meaning to the act. Information creates new neural networks in the brain, new paradigms for what is possible for us. If Bilbo Baggins could do it, so can we.

Like theory, cohesive writing starts with a litmus test. This is the author’s epiphany that is the impetus for the book. It should challenge our current mindset in some way. For my book, Essence Merging, it was: any part of yourself that you don’t know, that you have not become intimate with and love completely, is a part that you cannot love in others. Some tangents in early drafts felt alluring but if they did not meet the litmus test, they were edited.

In essence, all captivating storytelling chronicles change. But we live in a world of soundbites and fleeting attention. This is where creative writing differs from scientific writing. We must keep the reader engaged. Ideally each page starts with a beginning hook followed by a middle build that keeps the tension. The page culminates with a payoff, some emotional change, before introducing an ending hook to keep the reader motivated.

The entire book may describe the hero’s journey, but the journey itself needs to explore many highs and lows along the way because this is the formula of life. Life’s hooks. Adversity is inherent in this realm, even though social media wants to portray easy abundance. It is only the challenges that push our back up against the wall, that get us out of our comfort zone, that hold the capacity to uncover the higher gear where we come to know ourselves as greater than we previously thought… the payoff.

Palpable writing parallels conscious awareness. First, we must ground the scene using as many senses as possible. Encoding of sensate experience is the vitality of aliveness. Once grounded, compelling writing explores the nuances of relationship. All learning happens in relationship. If one gear of the watch changes, all the other gears must operate differently as a result. All change starts inwardly. How does one character’s change result in change for the others?

Dialogue shows, it doesn’t tell. It is moving to show what the characters want. Intentions and desires say a lot about who we really are at that point of our journey. But wants are often not needs. It is equally engaging to let the reader know whether or not the character gets that want. How does the result shape the character? The experiment of life.

Words are spoken thoughts. As such, according to quantum physics, they have the ultimate power to call the formless into form. They are the energy of creation. This was known to many early religions. Biblically, God said, “let there be light,” and the light appeared. Intricate storytelling foreshadows seemingly meaningless dialogue having profound later impact. Thoughts become things. This is a vicarious lesson that could elevate collective consciousness if it, again, became common knowledge.

Finally, engaging storytelling creates complex and nuanced characters. The best way to do that is through vulnerability. True vulnerability happens when someone is brave enough to show the fullness of themselves despite potential consequences. We all have strengths and weaknesses. Authentically showing the fullness of ourselves is the only way to build the intimacy that these hearts crave.

Of course, in life, that privilege should be earned or we will feel the burn of betrayal. But in storytelling, we need to feel so intimate with the characters that we could place ourselves in their clothes. That’s how the vicarious learning that makes storytelling the greatest form of meaning-making in history happens.

Check out Colleen Quinn’s Essence Merging here:

Bookshop | Amazon

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The post Where Creative Writing Differs From Scientific Writing appeared first on Writer's Digest.

In this interview, Julie discusses shifting from YA to more of an adult story with her romantasy novel, The Sea Spinner, how Stevie Nicks helped inspire the trilogy, and more.

Name: Julie Johnson
Literary agent: Bookcase Literary Agency
Book title: The Sea Spinner
Publisher: Berkley/Ace (Penguin Random House)
Release date: April 28, 2026
Genre/category: Fantasy/Romantasy
Previous titles: The Wind Weaver
Elevator pitch: Four elemental souls scattered to distant corners of their war-torn world must reunite in order to restore the balance of magic … or die trying. A gritty and intoxicating fantasy trilogy full of action, adventure, and romance.

Bookshop | Amazon
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What prompted you to write this book?

This trilogy only exists because of the song “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac. I was singing it (terribly off key!) in the shower one day, and the lyrics became stuck in my head. Long after I toweled dry, I couldn’t stop thinking about a character who “rules the skies like a fine skylark.” “A woman taken by the wind.” A heroine who embodies the element of air. A wind weaver. And so, the character Rhya Fleetwood was born. The first book is actually dedicated to Stevie Nicks, the writer of that song, in thanks for the inspiration.  

How long did it take to go from idea to publication? And did the idea change during the process?

I started writing the first book in the trilogy in 2022, over the course of about eight months. I was then on submission for a handful of months in spring of 2023 before it sold to my U.S. publisher. Incredibly, over the course of that year, the trilogy went on to sell in more than 20 foreign territories.

Though things moved somewhat quickly in the beginning stages, it would be another year and a half of waiting (rather impatiently!) before the book finally hit shelves in April 2025. So, in total, about three full years from initial idea to launch day.

Were there any surprises or learning moments in the publishing process for this title?

As I mentioned earlier, it was a three-year process from inception to publication. Coming from the self-publishing world, where I’d spent more than a decade writing contemporary romance, there was definitely a bit of whiplash at the change in pace. Traditional publishing moves significantly slower than the indie world. Before, it was not uncommon for me to write and publish multiple books per year, rapid-fire.

It was also quite different to shift my mindset from doing everything myself—writing, marketing, publicity, cover design, advertising—to having a whole team supporting me every step of the way, both pre- and post-publication.

Were there any surprises in the writing process for this book?

There were more than a few surprises along the way! Initially, this trilogy was written as a YA fantasy romance, and intended as a four-book series. When it was acquired by an adult imprint, some storylines were condensed while other elements were aged up to suit a more mature audience.

I also wrote the first draft in the past tense, then rewrote it in the present before publication, in an effort to create immediacy in the pacing, and a fully immersive reading experience.

What do you hope readers will get out of your book?

Ultimately, I hope this trilogy will provide a perfect escape from reality, where readers can temporarily disappear into a captivating world nothing like their own—one with high stakes, perilous battles, and breathtaking romance. While there is plentiful exploration of loss, grief, and pain between the pages, there is also found family, friendship, and a lot of joy.

If you could share one piece of advice with other writers, what would it be?

This career is a marathon, not a sprint. Don’t compare the very start of your race to someone who’s already crossing the finish line of theirs. Keep your eyes on your own track. Be persistent. Be ready to pivot at a moment’s notice. Most of all, though … just keep running. You’re already lapping everyone who’s too afraid to start.

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For today’s prompt, write a harvest poem. Some may remember that we started off this year’s challenged planting seeds; now, it’s harvest time. The harvest season is a time when some things end, but others continue, and there’s plenty of reason to celebrate. And remember that you’ve been sowing all month, so your harvest poem could also be about your poetic harvest for the month, because anything goes on the final day of the challenge. So let’s see what we can do on this harvest poem day.

Also, for people new to this challenge, we do still write poems here every Wednesday throughout the year for Wednesday Poetry Prompts. Please feel encouraged to show up once (or more) a week and poem along.

Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them.

Note on commenting: If you wish to comment on the site, go to Disqus to create a free new account, verify your account on this site below (one-time thing), and then comment away. It’s free, easy, and the comments (for the most part) don’t require manual approval (though I check from time to time for those that do).

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Keep writing poems throughout the year!

April may be over, but more than 300 poetry prompts are available at your beck and call with Poem-a-Day: 365 Poetry Writing Prompts for a Year of Poeming. Collected from years of poetry prompting, this is a fun way to stay out of a rut throughout the year.

Click to continue.

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Here’s my attempt at a Harvest Poem:

“new fruit,” by Robert Lee Brewer

when comes time to pluck me
do not weep or gnash your teeth
i am but an apple or an orange
take my seeds & plant them deep
let them sprout into an entire tree
that produces exotic new fruit
to be wildly picked & devoured
with juices running down your chin

(Quick note: I just want to say thank you to everyone for a great month of poeming. I’m going to be honest; I was really struggling at the beginning of the month, but this challenge–and everyone’s participation really pumped me up. I have more than a few poems that I’m really happy to tinker with now. So again, thanks!)

The post 2026 April PAD Challenge: Day 30 appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(The Differences in Writing Novels vs. Scripts.)

Prose has the advantage of the inner monologue and as much description as you care to write down, while in a screenplay you can only write down two things: what you see, and what you hear. Still, there are screenwriting tools that I believe can be invaluable to a novelist.

Here are six things I always do before I deliver a script which can help your book. 

Make a pass through from the perspective of each minor character as if they are the star of the movie.

One of the most easily avoidable mistakes in a movie is when a minor character seems like a plot device rather than a human being. It’s an easy trap to fall into, so in order to fight it I take the time to look at the story from every character’s perspective, no matter how small.

The doctor whose only function is to deliver the main character’s diagnosis has a life of their own, too. Where were they before they walked into the office? Did they just have a fight with their wife, or lose a patient? How do they feel about delivering this news; have they built an impenetrable shell, or is it still difficult for them? And more importantly, why?

In the end this might not be noticeable to anyone but you, but by taking the time to walk through the scene in their shoes you will create a human being rather than a fount of exposition. I do this with every role, down to the concierge or the delivery person, but it is even more important with supporting characters who may have six or seven scenes in the movie.

Tell that seven-scene story as well as you can; make sure the character has their own motivations and needs, and an arc if possible. A supporting character who only exists to serve the lead’s story, or to provide comic relief, is not interesting, while a single-scene taxi driver who has a life of their own brings depth to your film.

Go through scene by scene as if you are in the editing room.

Movies change many times after you write them, but nowhere as much as in the editing suite; I have heard the editing process referred to as the final rewrite. One tool I find invaluable is to imagine the following scenario: I am in the editing suite, the movie is running long, and I have to make cuts. There is no way around it, something has to go.

I look at each scene individually and ask myself a few questions: First, does this scene move the story forward, and conversely, if I cut this scene, does it hurt the story? Also, is there vital information in this scene that I can put somewhere else, and if I do move it, is this scene still necessary?

However much you may love a scene, if it can go, it should go. Granted there is more room for self-indulgence in a novel, but do you really want a chapter in there that slows your story down or causes your reader’s mind to wander? Cut that sucker, because if you don’t cut it someone else will later on. 

Look at every scene your protagonist is in and make sure they are driving the dramatic action. 

I am sent a lot of scripts by producers looking for rewrites, and often their comment is, “We love the story and we love the characters, we just can’t figure out why it isn’t working.” Nearly every time, the answer is the same; the lead character is not driving the story. They are passive and reactive, being buffeted about by other people’s choices.

Your lead must enter every scene with an objective and a plan, even if that plan goes terribly wrong or the objective changes. When James Bond is tied to a giant saw and expected to die, he isn’t a passive prisoner; the second the chains go on he is plotting a way to get them off (plan) so that he can get to the death ray and stop it (objective).

In other words, he seems like a victim, but he is still the one driving the action. Don’t be boring should be your mantra; don’t be passive should be your character’s. 

Look for clichés or tropes and ask yourself if there is a better way to do it. 

Sometimes there isn’t; clichés are clichés because they are true (that’s a cliché in itself). But it can’t hurt to skim through your pages one more time to look for lines or actions that are tired or overused and challenge yourself to find a more creative way to do the same thing. I cringe every time I watch a character try to download something, but it’s taking too long, and the bad guys are coming and it’s only at 67%. I swear I have seen that three times in the last week. It’s lazy writing. Don’t be lazy. Challenge yourself to find a better way. 

Reread your dialogue and root out exposition. 

In films, you don’t want your characters to explain things, you want to find a creative way to impart the information visually. The novel is a little more forgiving of exposition than a screenplay is, but I believe the principle holds. Avoid explaining things in dialogue wherever possible, and find a way to get the same thing across in a dynamic way.

Nearly every horror movie eventually has the scene where they find the expert who has spent their life studying this exact type of possession and is the only one who knows how to kill the haunted doll and who, luckily, is on a college campus only 20 minutes away. What if your character is able to figure all of that out without an expert? Because they are smart and active and creative (like you). And finally: 

Read the entire draft through one last time without stopping. 

Don’t make notes. Don’t set it down. And do not stop. Even if you see a typo, keep going, you will find it again later. Read it for rhythm and flow, make sure each scene leads seamlessly into the next, and look for (unintentionally) jarring transitions.

Are scenes in the right order? Does any one scene or chapter grind everything to a halt? Or does the end of each scene make you want to turn the page and start the next one? Is your lead off screen (or out of your story) for too long at any point? Simply put, does the damned thing work?

Only by reading it straight through from beginning to end will you know if it is the cohesive whole that you intended. And of course it works, because you took the time to get it there. Have fun!

Check out Gregory Poirier’s A Thousand Cuts here:

Bookshop | Amazon

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The post 6 Screenwriting Tips to Improve Your Novel appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(How I Stopped Sabotaging My Writing Goals.)

And yet, I’ll smile to myself and wonder: How is it that, since I turned 70, I have actually published eight books, with a ninth, Dickens in Brooklyn: Essays on Family, Writing, and Madness, due out a month before my 88th birthday? And—what I don’t mention—I’ve also been working on a half-dozen other books—three novels, one nonfiction book, a short story collection, and a second collection of essays—books I’m fine-tuning and hoping to publish in the next few years.

I’ll sometimes work on fiction in the mornings, and nonfiction in the afternoon. My mantra, as it’s been for more than 50 years—“Routine is a condition of survival”—is from Flannery O’Connor. I discovered it in a book of her letters when I was in my 20s, typed it out, and taped it to the wall next to my desk. “If you do the same thing every day at the same time for the same length of time,” O’Connor wrote to a friend, “you’ll save yourself from many a sink. Routine is a condition of survival.”

She went on to tell her friend that when he was at his desk, he should turn off his phone, not pay bills, and that if he didn’t get any writing done, it didn’t matter because important work was still being done: He was nurturing new work and making choices about what not to write.

In addition to the routines that have become lifetime habits, there’s something else that has made the years past 70 so happily and surprisingly productive: the absence of old responsibilities. For most of their lives, I’ve been single parent to my three children, all of whom are now well-launched into lives of their own. My mother, for whom I was guardian for the last dozen years of her life, passed away two decades ago, and I no longer have to do what many of us do when caring for our aging parents.

For more than 50 years I was caretaker and advocate for my brother Robert, who spent most of his life in and out of mental hospitals, psych wards, and halfway houses. He passed away in 2015, and I’m no longer involved in caring for him, and in what was an ongoing struggle to get the institutions and individuals who were paid to care for him do their jobs.

Once my children had graduated from college and left home, I moved out of the large 19th century New England house in which I’d raised them, sold our family’s two old cars, and moved into a mostly care-free and repair-free 1,200-square-foot apartment in New York City.

And there’s something else that comes with being a writer who’s been on the job for nearly 70 years: Although I still have hopes and ambitions—for reviews, sales, recognition, etc.—I’m increasingly ambitious not for the author of my books, but for the books themselves. Although my writing life is not without frustrations, I still do the work I love every day, still take pride in a sentence well-made, and still rejoice in making something new—something that had no existence until I imagined it into being.

Check out Jay Neugeboren’s Dickens in Brooklyn here:

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The post Writing Well Past 70—and Loving It appeared first on Writer's Digest.

Books are art, but publishing is a business.

(Why the Soundtrack to Your Book Could Make All the Difference.)

So we talk about marketing. We talk about positioning. We talk about how much an author will earn, how much a publisher will risk, how much editors will spend, how many people will read a book, and how much they will pay. And a more troublesome and insidious mindset shift happens, one where we equate the success or potential success of a book to how much a publisher is willing to pay for it.

Readers, authors, agents, editors, publishers. None of us are immune to this pattern of thinking, even though the truth is that these are not automatic signs of success. Infamously, during the 2022 antitrust trial in which the DOJ moved to block Penguin Random House from acquiring Simon & Schuster, PRH CEO Marcus Dohle said that “everything is random” in publishing and no one knows what makes a bestseller.

I don’t think it’s quite that simple—a publisher who pays more is going to have a vested interest in making sure that they get that money back and is therefore going to give that project more resources. But we can also see from the breakout successes of indie published books that have been converted to traditionally published titles in the last three years that it’s just as true that books can be wildly successful with no publisher support at all. If we’re just looking at the money, then this could be mistaken for randomness.

Every agent or editor who considers a manuscript or a proposal is weighing those possibilities: Could this be a big breakout? Could this be a sleeper hit? What is the risk if it’s not? For authors and for agents who work on commission, the risk is immediately tangible. If a book doesn’t sell or doesn’t sell well, then they don’t get paid for the many hours of work put into the project. And to compound that risk, poor performance jeopardizes the relationship between the author and the publisher; will a publisher acquire another book from an author who failed to earn back the publisher’s investment?

This is the cynical picture that we paint for writers, often to guard ourselves against the worst-case scenarios and fears that come up when we enter the query or submission trenches, especially for the first time. But we forget that there are, in fact, much better ways to measure worth and success than whether or not your first book is a blockbuster or whether you got the six-figure advance.

One of the first questions that I ask potential clients when we hop on a call to meet is, “What does a successful publishing journey look like to you?”

And I don’t ask it superficially. There are lots of ways to answer, all of which are valid. How a client answers, though, shapes the way that I relate to them, their goals, and the nature of their submission. Publishing is not a straight line, and agenting is and should be a curated path. For writers who want that single, authoritative book that speaks to their brand, we may discuss why traditional publishing over self-publishing and what they hope a publisher will specifically do for them, from advance numbers to production to publicity. For writers who want a long publishing career, we may speak less about the size of the deal we hope to get and more about the trajectory of their potential books, what it takes to find a publisher who supports and champions them in a way that extends beyond a first project, and what it takes to show a publisher they should invest in a second book.

Every book is potential. Every submission is alchemy—a careful blend of concept and craft and timing. The dollar value that we assign to that potential has much less bearing on the final product than we give it credit for.

Small deals from small presses will yield bestsellers and literary giants. Major deals from Big 5 Publishers will flop. Film deals will go nowhere. Film deals will surprise us. Careers will be built on the slow accumulation of moderate successes until one day a book pops. Careers will be built on the slow accumulation of moderate successes that remain moderate successes in perpetuity. They are no less significant. They are no less valuable. And they are not random—they are the result of that carefully curated vision for the book, the effort of the author and editor, the spark from the reader—sometimes in spite of rather than because of the publisher and the money that was or was not there. Because someone saw the potential in a book and said, “I pick that one.”

When I sign with a client, they will often hear from me (I hope—and they can call me out if I’m failing in this), “Celebrate every win.” Because every milestone in publishing is hard to come by, and life is too short to only celebrate the “big stuff.”

Celebrate big deals. Celebrate small ones. Celebrate that first royalty statement, earned or unearned. Celebrate going on submission. Celebrate signing with an agent. Celebrate finishing that first query letter. Celebrate the first deal. Celebrate the fifth one.

Because not every book is a crazy moonshot breakout. But every book has that potential and the potential to be everything else you want in your publishing journey.

The post Moonshots, Micro Wins, and the Magic of Book Potential appeared first on Writer's Digest.

In this interview, Canwen discusses becoming a better writer after getting a book deal with her debut thriller, Boring Asian Female, how finding one writing process isn’t as easy as it may seem, and more.

Name: Canwen Xu
Literary agent: Rachel Yeoh
Book title: Boring Asian Female
Publisher: Berkley
Release date: April 28, 2026
Genre/category: Thriller / literary
Elevator pitch: Boring Asian Female is a literary thriller about Elizabeth Zhang, a senior at Columbia University, whose life falls apart when she gets rejected by Harvard Law School for not standing out. Devastated by the rejection, she slowly becomes obsessed with a classmate, Laura Kim, who she believes took her rightful spot.

Bookshop | Amazon
[WD uses affiliate links.]

What prompted you to write this book?

Even though I’ve always loved to read and write, I never thought I could write a novel. That was because for some reason, I thought that all novels had to be atmospheric, and I’m just not really into writing imagery. But then I started reading more contemporary fiction, particularly “millennial fiction,” and I found that many of these novels focused more on social critique and psychological insights rather than placing the reader at a specific place and time. That was when I thought, Huh, maybe I could do this.

How long did it take to go from idea to publication? And did the idea change during the process?

It took about four years. The first two years consisted of writing the novel and landing a literary agent, and the next two years consisted of everything that happened after landing the book deal.

The idea definitely changed; when I first started writing it, I envisioned it as a coming-of-age novel in the style of Sally Rooney or Lily King. There was no obsession plot and no character named Laura Kim. And that was actually how my agent positioned it when we took it on submission. But when I met with Angela Kim, my now-editor, for the first time, she brought up potentially shifting it to a suspense novel. After thinking about it, I loved the idea. There were already some suspenseful tidbits in it, it was just about playing up those moments and heightening all of the plot points.

Were there any surprises or learning moments in the publishing process for this title?

Something that not many people talk about is that you actually become a better writer after getting the book deal, because you get the opportunity to work with editors (and your agent) whose feedback really helps you hone your craft. I was getting paid to write but I was also getting all of this incredible, tailored writing advice in the process, almost like getting paid to learn.

Were there any surprises in the writing process for this book?

I thought I’d eventually figure out a good “process” but that’s never happened. Sometimes, it’s giving myself a set word count to hit each day. But other times, too much focus on just generating can cause me to hit a wall. Sometimes, I find it helpful to go back and edit. Other times, it just makes me spiral into thinking I’m the worst writer to have ever lived. And it doesn’t really ever get easier.

What do you hope readers will get out of your book?

I hope they’ll find themselves surprised at just how much they’re able to root for and relate to the protagonist’s unhinged decision-making process.

If you could share one piece of advice with other writers, what would it be?

Read as much as possible!

The post Canwen Xu: I Never Thought I Could Write a Novel appeared first on Writer's Digest.

Tomorrow is Poem in Your Pocket Day as celebrated by the Academy of American Poets. Click here to learn more.

For today’s prompt, write a pocket poem. As usual, there are a few ways to come at this one. Write a poem about pockets, like the pockets made of fabric, but also other types of pockets (like pockets of space or pockets of information). Or, another option is to write a short poem that would easily fit in your pocket.

Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them.

Note on commenting: If you wish to comment on the site, go to Disqus to create a free new account, verify your account on this site below (one-time thing), and then comment away. It’s free, easy, and the comments (for the most part) don’t require manual approval (though I check from time to time for those that do).

*****

Play with poetic forms!

Poetic forms are fun poetic games, and this digital guide collects more than 100 poetic forms, including more established poetic forms (like sestinas and sonnets) and newer invented forms (like golden shovels and fibs).

Click to continue.

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Here’s my attempt at a Pocket Poem:

“return of the madmen,” by Robert Lee Brewer

let us carve out a pocket of time
in a place where we can break our lines
without weighing our lunatic rhymes
that wander lost yet still always find
our fractured hearts still yearn to be kind
& we speak love whenever we whine

The post 2026 April PAD Challenge: Day 29 appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(Things Writers Should Know.)

I stumbled upon the power of verbs in my years as the dance critic of the Washington Post. I was quite young when I started there and didn’t have much experience. So I decided to make my mark by capturing what I knew best: the visceral excitement of dance. I wanted to bring readers along to see what I saw, feel what I felt. Verbs showed me the way. With a few crisp, blunt verbs I could snap a moment into focus and evoke the dizzying sensation of watching dancers sweep or squiggle across the stage, carve shapes in space, and beckon with gestures and arcing limbs.

But what I’ve discovered in nearly 30 years as a journalist and author is that precise, imaginative verbs can make any writing sing, whether it’s fiction, nonfiction, a blog post, or email.

Interiority, physical action, the aura of a mute natural landscape—anything you write about will grow more intense, palpable and real with the right verbs. Here are some tips from my writing manual, Verb Your Enthusiasm, on using verbs to pump up your expressiveness, streamline your writing—and even reveal something true about yourself.

Indulge in descriptive verbs. They’re the secret superpower of the English language.

Imagine this as the first line of a novel: Louisa came down the stairs. It’s dull; doesn’t tell us much. Change the verb and crank up the interest: Louisa staggered down the stairs. Now it’s a story. Is she scared, injured, drunk? “Stagger” is an unsettling verb with a whiff of danger.

It’s what linguists call a “manner of motion” verb. These are distinct from “neutral” verbs, such as walk, sit, eat. Manner verbs are the drama queens, expressive and emotional. They describe the way an action looks and feels—its manner. Some languages, such as French and Spanish, have only a few dozen of these “manner” verbs.

But English boasts several hundred. Wiggle, wander, startle, sway, gnash, devour, etc. You get the idea. Dip into this wellspring, my friend, and enjoy.

One bright, right verb can replace a boring verb that’s fluffed up with an adverb.

Compare these sentences:

• Version A: She made her way stiffly out the door only to catch her foot awkwardly on the dog.
• Version B: She lurched out the door and tripped on the dog.

Condense “made her way stiffly” into one crisp word for a cleaner, more powerful effect. Adverbs clog the flow. Instead of tacking them onto a basic verb, swap in a single dynamic verb that does all the work. For help finding that verb, pull out a thesaurus or consult one online. Be aware of nuances between similar verbs in a listing.

Capture your characters with vivid verbs that show how they move.

We learn so much about people from the way they move. A character’s body language, how they take up space and stir the air: These actions reveal personality, self-regard, habits of mind. Does your character strut like she’s sailing down a runway in Dior? Maybe she rolls side to side as if a tool belt bangs around her hips. Strong verbs can kick off a colorful movement metaphor.

Use dynamic verbs to suggest thoughts and feelings instead of naming them outright.

Verbs can imply and tantalize, while allowing your readers the pleasure of filling in the rest with their imagination. Instead of labeling a character’s emotional state, as in “She was afraid,” use powerful verbs to suggest it. For example, you might describe ice sheathing her lungs and choking her breath, or her heart bashing around as if to tear itself from her body.

A lively landscape, rich in verbs, can intensify your story’s mood.

Playful verbs, threatening verbs: Use these to animate your environment and evoke feeling and atmosphere. Does seafoam bubble as it washes over sand? Do rapids blizzard over the rocks? Different verbs convey different spirits. Think of using them to tell little stories within your story.

Let’s say you’re describing a hot afternoon, so hot nothing is moving. What does that look like? Sharpen the focus and you might see bees seeking cover in the bushes, or honeysuckle flowers curling and fainting on their vines. The actions of the natural world can also deepen your story’s theme. If an ill-prepared camping trip is about to turn tragic, aspens that shiver or switchgrass that whips in the wind can hint at danger and build suspense.

Make up your own verbs.

Channel Gertrude Stein and play around with words. Flexibility is another perk of the English language. One of its most amusing evolutions is the way nouns morph into verbs with ease. And so your character might blowfish with excitement, foghorn an announcement, or Miles Davis a tribute that’s part structured, part improv. Improv is helpful. Let your thoughts wander; see what surprises spring from the margins.

Your verb choices can move your readers before they’re even aware of it.

I interviewed cognitive scientists, psychologists, and linguists while researching my book, and I learned some amazing things about verbs. For example, they have the power to move our minds and bodies. Studies suggest that we may simulate a fleeting sense of movement when reading verbs. (This may explain the thrill of reading, “The car whizzes past.”) The subtle simulation can happen even when the verbs describe inanimate objects, such as, “The road meanders along the coast.”

Chosen with care, action verbs can take your reader on a journey. They trigger us in myriad ways. I keep this in mind when I’m editing my work.

When I look over my writing, I see if it makes sense to upgrade the verbs—replacing boring verbs with lively ones, eliminating unnecessary adverbs and other clutter. If a passage feels flat and lifeless, perhaps there’s too much telling instead of showing. Rather than explaining what’s happening, I try whipping up a verb phrase that pops the reader right into the action.

It’s easy to get stuck in familiar ways of writing. Experimenting and playing around with verbs can help push those limits, free your imagination—and boost your storytelling.

Check out Sarah L. Kaufman’s Verb Your Enthusiasm here:

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(Surviving the Publishing Industry: Advice From a Late Bloomer.)

For a recovering alcoholic (17 years last month), there’s an initial period of sobriety referred to as the pink cloud. It’s the euphoric, optimistic “honeymoon phase” in early recovery where individuals feel bliss, hope, and confidence, viewing everything with rose-colored glasses. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s where I was between the time I signed my first contract to when Overwatch was published.

My first four books did well by most standards, and Overwatch was nominated for the Barry Award for Best Thriller of 2016, but I didn’t make the NYT bestsellers list. Breaking the top 100 of Amazon, while significant, is not the same thing. My second book, Oath of Honor, also did well, but it didn’t sell as many copies as Overwatch. Books three and four of the Logan West series followed the same trend, and before I knew it, I found myself in the position no author wants to find his or herself: writing a standalone to “reboot” a writing career. Almost every writer I’ve ever spoken to, save the lucky few who break out into the stratosphere overnight (it happens, but it’s as rare as finding the Florentine Diamond buried in your backyard), end up doing it. And so I embarked on the next phase of my career like the Endurance into Antarctica.

My first standalone thriller, The Neighborhood, from Blackstone Publishing, dropped in 2022. It did well, and I even wrote the screenplay adaptation (more on that later), which has had two different directors and producers attached at different times. My second standalone, The Council, comes out this month, also from Blackstone. Personally, as the writer, it’s the best thing I’ve written, and I hope readers love reading it as much I loved writing it. It’s not for the faint of heart, as it deals with themes of immense grief, loss, and redemption, but it does feel relatable, or so early reviewers have generously said.

My point is that I’m fortunate enough that I’m still writing and that a publisher is still paying me to do something I love doing: to take you on an intense roller coaster ride from cover to cover, often with unique and large-scale action sequences, a hallmark of my thrillers. But this is a brutal business, full of pitfalls, false promises, and plenty of people who will tell you what they think you want to hear.

The truth is that if you’re asked to the Publishing Dance, there’s a good chance you’ll end up starting frustrated, dancing awkwardly, slowly getting angry because your date’s hanging with friends instead of you, go through denial, and ultimately walk out alone into the publishing universe. My hope is that if you’re lucky enough to get published, you’ll avoid the pitfalls of teenage love rituals. As a result, I’ve learned the following lessons the hard way, and I’m happy to still be standing… or sitting as I type away furiously at my laptop.

Lesson One: Sales Are All That Matter

I don’t care if your publisher tells you you’re the second coming of Stephen King, J.K. Rowling, and Tom Clancy combined. All that matters is sales.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve written the greatest literary novel of all time that make Don Quixote and Anna Karenina look like stories scribbled on Greek diner napkins. Your book could receive glowing reviews from the New York Times to your local newspaper. Your book could receive a perfect 5-star rating on Goodreads (no one does; that might actually be impressive; readers are hard on Goodreads). But if your book doesn’t sell? None of it—and I mean literally none of it—matters.

If your publisher doesn’t earn back the advance they paid you, your years as a traditionally published author are numbered, likely in the single digits. At my debut Thriller Fest in 2016, Steve Berry told a group of 23 debut authors, myself included—and I’ll never forget this, as well as his methodical approach to editing, which is the best method I still use today—“The reality is that in less than three years, no more than one or two of you will still be publishing.”

He wasn’t joking. Out of that group from 2016, I might be the only one. It’s a hard business, which leads me to my second lesson.

Lesson Two: Publishing Is a Business; Treat It as Such

It’s your name on the cover. As result, it’s your business. You might have an editor, a literary agent, a film agent, a publicist, and a publisher with a marketing team, but it’s still your business. You are the one ultimately responsible for it.

The Marine in me takes extreme ownership over everything I do, and I’ve been involved with every decision that’s been made about every book, including cover development. But that comes with responsibility. I’ve fired multiple agents, not because I didn’t like them, but because I felt like I needed to go in a different direction.

Don’t be afraid to be in charge of your career because at the end of the day, you’re just one of many that your agents and publisher carry, but you only have one name and one career. It’s all on you. No pressure.

Lesson Three: People in This Business Are Not Your Friends

I’m not saying you can’t be friends with people in this business (and I’m not talking about your peers or other writers). I’ve met plenty of people in publishing and in Hollywood that I’ve had very personal conversations with, that I’d almost consider my friends. But then I realized that this is a business, and I have something they hopefully want, which is why they’re talking to me, and vice versa.

That’s not cynicism. It’s reality. Things happen in publishing. Sometimes books don’t sell well, and editors have to make hard decisions based on Lesson One: Sales Are All That Matter. When that happens, you have to remind yourself that it’s not personal; it’s just Lesson Two: Publishing Is A Business.

The best way I’ve found to think of people in publishing and in Hollywood is as co-workers. You can have great relationships with them. You can go out for drinks, hang out at lunch, have a blast. But at the end of the day, you’re all working for the same goal—to sell books, not be friends. I’m not saying you can’t do it, but if you stay in the business long enough, they’ll come and go, but real friends won’t.

Lesson Four: It’s a Marathon, Not a Sprint

I loathe that saying, but unless you’re one of the .001% of overnight successes, it’s going to take time to build your career. The more books you write (at the right advance amounts), the longer the tail your backlist will have. The longer the backlist, the longer the career. The goal is to stay in the game as long as possible. You can’t win if you’re not playing. 

Lesson Five: Learn to Write Screenplays

Your craft is everything, and you should be constantly finetuning it wherever and whenever you can. One of the smartest things I did to improve my craft was learn to write screenplays during the pandemic lockdown. I’d been told for years I had a “visual style” of writing, and it suited the screenplay format. I read a few articles, talked to a few friends in Hollywood, and purchased Final Draft.

I’ve since written four full screenplays and a TV pilot, and here’s why that matters: A screenplay is usually 110 pages or less, with double spacing and narrower fields. You are literally forced to minimize your prose. It’s the ultimate test of less is more. Even more critical is that every line of dialogue has to have impact. Dialogue should be meaningful, authentic, and pithy. Write dialogue the way people talk, not the way you think they talk. Writing screenplays hones that skill.

People don’t speak in long soliloquys from a Shakespearean play. We speak grammatically incorrectly and in fragment sentences. The more realistic your dialogue is, the better. The bonus is that if you write a book and then have a screenplay adaptation of it, you might get to sell both to Hollywood, and then you’re in the real money.

At the end of the day, your career is about you, and I wish you the best of luck in this brutal business. It’s a jungle out there, but if you have the skill, resolution, and perseverance, it can be a rewarding walk through the dense foliage. Semper Fidelis.

Check out Matthew Betley’s The Council here:

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