Making a Satisfaction List for Your Writing Life/Business
Being an inveterate risk taker, I like to give my all to every venture. I love the freedom to try as many ideas as I can think of. Being a practical person too, after the dust settles I always want to sit back and evaluate what worked and what didn’t.
Maybe you have your ways of evaluating the success of a change in your writing life or business. (By “business,” I’m talking about anything you do to get compensated for your creative time: submitting a piece to lit mags, querying agents, launching a new book, starting a Substack, planning a workshop or class you want to offer.) It applies to the structure beneath your writing life or business, such as revamping your writing practice or setting yourself up with better software or equipment.
When is a good time to risk? Sometimes that’s dictated by external needs: a contest deadline, publication window, something failing (a computer crash). Sometimes it starts with internal longing—you’re sick of your safe creativity and want to try an idea circling around inside. Or you see a window to release a new project you’ve secretly incubated for months or years.
There’s an interesting juxtaposition between the timing of a risk and the practicality of it. Risks require resources of energy, time, money, and passion. I used to just wing it, moving forward on passion alone, and my success rate was about 50 percent. There can be regrets in this approach, but it’s also a thrill. I’d decide to send out a new short story to twenty lit mags, but passion just had me doing minimal research and not considering my bank account for submission fees.
But it’s also OK, and not less creative, to approach risk with some evaluation. How will it impact you on different levels?
Over the years of being a professional (read: paid for what I write), I’ve come to treat my writing life with that practicality. Being savvy to me means evaluating an idea for what it’ll cost on all levels, then testing the idea in a controllable way, repeating what works, and discarding or changing what doesn’t.
My nature is a push-ahead style, so I usually loathe the structure of evaluating ahead of time, but I’ve come to value it because it gives me more satisfaction afterwards. I feel saner, more in control of my creative life, and smart. When I don’t do this, I often lose track of what I’ve flung my energy and resources towards.
I want to show you the evaluation results from my recent year-long publicity campaign for my just released novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue. But as a smaller example, I’ll start with how I evaluated my weekly newsletter, which you are reading now, and how it grew from a few hundred subscribers to around 3000. The risk evaluations I did along the way helped me make good decisions, and create a newsletter that’s starting to pay me for my time and energy, too.
My satisfaction list for Your Weekly Writing Exercise (this newsletter)
I started writing Your Weekly Writing Exercise in 2008. Students in my classes asked questions—a lot! I needed time to research and answer these. So I published my responses every Friday on Google’s Blogspot.
That first year, the subscriber list grew into the hundreds. I held steady on Blogspot for another five years, since it was free. But when I got to around 1500 subscribers, I knew I needed help managing the subscriptions.
Constant Contact was an email client I’d heard of. It cost about $600 a year but it took care of all the admin. The newsletter was still growing, and I was glad to have help when someone new subscribed or dropped.
When I started out on Blogspot, I promised my subscribers a weekly newsletter. No matter how small my response, I wouldn’t miss a week. I did not guarantee any subject—newsletters ranged from interviews with published writers to links to great resources I’d found to techniques I taught in my classes. It was fun to write, I loved the research, and I heard good feedback from readers. I felt happy to have a place to respond to writing questions students emailed me each week.
The newsletters felt useful, a benefit. A way to pay back all the help I’d received over the years. I didn’t intend to grow it, but grow it did.
After five years on Constant Contact, I felt relief at the admin help but dismay over my bank account—I was losing money with their yearly fees. About $3000 by that point. I didn’t want to stop the newsletter, so I hired design help, created a banner, revamped the layout to include a sidebar about my upcoming classes, publications, awards, and other publicity. I worried about this risk—would my readers feel the newsletter was all promo now? But no. The subscriber list continued to grow. My yearly fee was offset by more class registrations.
The next risk evolved from inside: I wanted to create more of a community. That’s when I migrated my newsletter to Substack. I also wondered if some of my long-time subscribers might be willing to support my efforts, gratis all these years, by the paid subscription Substack offers.
Two risks, as it turned out: a new platform and a move to the paid subscription option, with extra benefits.
Since I moved to Substack in April of this year, my list has grown from around 2200 to almost 3000 subscribers, 73 of which pay me a small free ($45 a year) for the weekly uplift and information. Best of all, I am starting to feel a community here. Other newsletters are recommending Your Weekly Writing Exercise. I give shout out’s to students who are publishing and to writing colleagues who write their own Substacks. It feels generous and authentic.
There were some bumps along the way.
Not everyone liked the format of Substack. After years of Constant Contact, with its certain layout and type style, a handful of readers objected to Substack’s plainer and smaller fonts. So I did my usual “let it run” and “evaluate.” I took notes.
I always take notes along the way of any venture in my writing business. They are not terribly precise notes—I do write down facts and figures, like the Constant Contact fee, when they bite a hole in my finances or time or energy. When a decision results in family disharmony or sleepless nights, it certainly gets noted. Same with unexpected successes, like the subscriber increase.
Mostly, I evaluate the internal result—how satisfied did I feel with each effort I tried?
Satisfaction with my creative life is a lot more important to me than success in the eyes of the world. I want to feel good about what I’ve done. I want to feel I’ve shown up fully for whatever dream I’m championing. I also want to know that ten years from now, I won’t be harboring regrets.
Satisfaction, for me, is rarely immediate. I try something, I experience a setback, I regroup. I let the project run for a while, because testing validity is never a fast process. I can get a burst of good results but will they last?
Is the energy sustainable? That’s how I achieve longevity with a project.
I’ve been on Substack nine months now. I’ve grown the newsletter by around 300 subscribers. Yes, some have dropped. Some come for a few issues then go. But many email me (I’m still training folks to comment instead) and I am hearing even more good feedback about the weekly topics. I decided this year to share more personally about my own writing journey with my just-published book, and the subscription growth and comments indicate to me that readers are OK with this shift too.
I’m delighted with the community here on Substack. It feels like home.
A bigger project demands more risk—and potentially more satisfaction
Preparing myself for bigger risk was also in the plan this year—launching the new book. I used my satisfaction list again, reviewing other books I’ve published, to see what I could afford to try.
Katherine May (a favorite writer here on Substack) said that’s it’s old-fashioned to believe that we don’t have to self-promote. So a year ago, when I knew my new novel would be published in October 2023, I sat down with my past books and did the risk and review.
I’ve been published by every kind of venue, from agented submissions to major publishing houses to unagented small press to agented indie. Each book has resulted in some successes, some failures, and a certain amount of satisfaction. Some books I am still proud of—no creative regrets. Others, not so much.
I wanted this new book to be 100 percent satisfaction, and I knew I’d need to put energy, time, money, and passion towards it.
When I looked at my past books, I came up with this list of requirements for the new one:
I wanted to take my time with writing, editing, revising, and getting feedback so the book was absolutely the best I could create.
I wanted it to look and feel beautiful, physically.
I wanted plenty of advance reader copies (ARCs) for trade and other reviewers.
I wanted to try pre-orders.
I wanted an audiobook with a fabulous narrator.
I wanted to hire helpers—publicity, for sure, but also coaches to help me understand the publishing world today.
I wanted to try two new publicity avenues: bloggers and podcasts.
I wanted a fantastic launch party to celebrate.
This list came from things I didn’t always get with my other books. Sometimes the publisher wouldn’t spring for an audiobook, for instance. Or the book production would end up being less than what I wanted. Or they’d pay for publicist help but it was more traditional. Or review copies were stingily offered.
In my earlier publishing years, I didn’t have the passion or the ability to push for these things. This time, I would do it. I felt huge satisfaction, imagining this wish list manifesting for my new novel.
This week, I sat down to do my evaluation. It’s been a month today since my book launched on October 24. And another novel is in the works, releasing in April 2024, riding on the momentum. So I am beginning my pre-launch decisions and want to have enough satisfaction in my pocket so decisions for the 2024 release will be even more so.
My hope is that you can pick up ideas, tips, things to avoid, by seeing my list. Maybe it’ll help you risk in ways you may not have naturally tried or step back and evaluate the cost to your resources and whether the risk is worthwhile.
My satisfaction list for A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue
I took my time writing and rewriting. Ten years, yes, but each book takes what it takes. I didn’t try to rush it and I kept steady with my writing practice. The book got my attention 3-5 days a week. At stuck points, I hired editors and coaches. I took online classes from The Loft Literary Center and Grub Street each semester I could. I signed with a hands-on agent about eight years into the project and she helped me see next steps (i.e., I’m not a thriller writer, I need a strong plot, I write characters very well). I took critique from my writer’s group and writing partner. Neither pride nor discouragement stopped me for very long.
I was picky about everything to do with the physical book. At times, I was annoyed at myself for this. I got feedback from trusted friends on the cover design and asked for changes. I read and reread the galleys (typeset proofs) so many times. We faced delays because of my pickiness and worries over that almost caused me to shortcut but I am proud I didn’t. It involved redos, rushed my production team, and overworked me. The team was amazing; they hung in there with me, we created a gorgeous book. An email from a long-time owner of a print shop confirmed this—she went on and on about the stellar page design, cover, page weight. I also pushed to get ARCs early, sent them successfully to the trade and other reviewers, and got three pages of great blurbs. Finally, although we were “late” starting pre-orders (many publishers start 6-8 months out), even with less than two months, pre-orders put my book on Amazon’s bestseller list in three categories.
I researched audiobook production, consulted with friends who run a voiceover company, and auditioned narrators. Two candidates were almost perfect; I held out for perfect and got my wish with narrator Alex Furness on Fiverr.
I hired three publicity helpers—after researching all the options. One was my overall coach (Dan Blank). One was a blogger publicist (Suzanne Leonard). One was a podcast publicist (Michelle Glogovac). This is where most of my money went. But I had saved for it, I wanted to learn, and I am earning it back with book sales. It worked, 100 percent satisfaction.
I made good decisions about how to celebrate the book’s launch. Having two parties was a very meaningful way to celebrate. The in-person launch party at the Loft Literary Center on October 24 was a huge success. It took a lot of work, and I had tons of help as well, but it was completely worth it. To be F2F with friends and writing buddies meant everything to me. The travel was fun but exhausting because we decided to drive in our camper with the two dogs. I didn’t sleep as well as I wanted, because I was nervous about the event. After, I got sick. But it remains a highlight for me. Having a virtual launch as well, so my far-flung community could attend, was a great decision too. Even more people came to that. I wasn’t 100 percent healthy, cough still an issue, but I loved it. I’m glad I decided not to do more in-person events, such a bookstore appearances or book signings. I’d done a LOT of those for other books and I’m still not sure it increased sales or was worth the effort. I focused on my two parties and regular online presence, and that felt like enough.
What didn’t work and I wouldn’t do again
Several fellow writers swore by placing ads on BookBub and Amazon. I had a meh experience with both. My first BookBub ad cost $100, and it generated about 10 preorder sales and 3000 impressions (interest), but the second ad, much less costly, produced almost nothing. I placed two ongoing Amazon ads without knowing much of what I was doing, and neither generated much. I either have a lot to learn about how to do these or I won’t try them again.
Extra satisfaction I didn’t expect
I’m not great on social media and it often saddens or irritates me, but keeping up with posts became very important. I had to select the social media to focus on. Instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn each have between 800 and 1000 followers, and I’m comfortable with those communities—each so different. I had a learning curve with LinkedIn, needing to reframe my posts in a business tone, and I had to learn Canva to create enough Instagram images. My goal was to post every day, at least once, on each site. I managed it for Facebook and Instagram and got good responses there. Learning Canva was a great asset. We are such a visual society! I used to know very rudimentary Photoshop techniques but everyone I asked mentioned Canva’s ease. I tried a few images and liked it. I decided to buy the pro version, I taught myself how to make Instagram quote posts first. Then I expanded to review posts, announcements of book milestones, and sharing personal moments in the book journey. I still have much to learn but it helped me keep posting regularly, especially on Instagram.
I loved my launch team of 66 volunteers. I had to decide what to ask them to do in exchange for their advance e-book. I chose reviews. I focused on Goodreads, Amazon, and BookBub reviews. Reasons: Goodreads reviews helped promote my two Goodreads giveaways, which drew almost 13,000 entries. Amazon reviews, although they mostly happened after pub date, are a standby in the industry and gives a book the best chance to reach bestseller ranks. BookBub is relatively new to me but I hope to be selected as a feature, so good reviews were important. The team posted pre-pub on Goodreads and BookBub, then on Amazon after the pub date. Many of them posted on all three sites. I was impressed with participation of the team; almost 60 percent of them stayed involved and followed through with tasks I requested.
Your Weekly Writing Exercise
This exercise is a spin-off from the one in a past newsletter on Doing What You’re Most Scared Of. It’s geared more towards your writing business and being out in the world with your writing, but adapt it in any way that fits you.
This holiday weekend, when the football games are feeling a little dull or visitors are comatose with good food, take yourself away from the crowd (with an extra dessert, perhaps?) and make a satisfaction list.
Consider a current project you’re trying with your writing life/business. Ideas might include:
Revamping your writing practice (improving the place, setting aside more time, upgrading frequency, knowing ahead of time what you will do)
Upgrading equipment (do you need a better laptop, printer, wifi? is your software ancient? would you like to try Scrivener or another program you’ve heard about?)
Starting to submit stories or essays to lit mags or other publications
Querying agents
Upgrading skills (taking classes online or in person, studying privately with a coach or teacher, getting feedback from a writing partner)
Creating better accountability (finding an accountability partner, using a class deadline, joining a group online)
Taking a break (a writing retreat, changing media—trying another art form for refreshment, reading more widely)
Starting a Substack or other publication
Designing a workshop or event or in conversation to share your knowledge
Learning different ways to promote your work and yourself
What lights up for you right now? It may feel risky—that’s often good. Write down 3-5 things about this risk that, if you accepted the challenge, might give you real satisfaction down the road.