Tagged: Fiction writing

what does good writing mean in 2025?

This is a question that I’ve considered a lot – is good writing the peak of literary form, as in the construction of beautiful sentences, the creation of vivid worlds, the expression of emotion within paragraphs, all based on honed skill? Or is good writing what sells, and thus, defined more by what grabs attention and holds it? Which, based on modern sales numbers, would be more cliche, action romance-style content?

Because to me, great writing is writing that conveys real emotion. Great authors are able to recreate the emotional sense of the scene that they’ve imagined within the body of the reader, making reading a novel the closest thing we have to viewing the world through the eyes of somebody else. The setting, the concept, the idea that you’re exploring, all of this needs to be exuded through the words that you choose, and the specific placement of each verb needs to add to the broader picture, and draw out the emotion of each scene.

This is the pursuit of all great writers, and yet, I would argue that some of the best writers on this front likely wouldn’t sell many copies in the current literary landscape.

Does that mean that this is no longer ‘good’ writing? Is good writing defined by the market? By the readers? Or is good writing based on the sense that the writer gets from creating it?

It’s hard to define, and success, of course, is relative. I once wrote a kids’ book series for my own children, with the idea being that it would expand upon literary concepts and mechanisms as each book went on. So by the third book, we have more metaphor, while the first is more expository and flat. The idea, in my head at least, was that this would open their eyes to literary and storytelling devices, and that would help them create better stories of their own.

Maybe that worked, but then again, if other readers don’t have the same understanding, does that even matter?

If you want to sell books, then more straightforward, escapist stories are doing better right now. The reading public has less time to commit to a novel, so they’re more likely, seemingly, to engage with books that go from point-to-point, in quick succession, with driving, fast-paced narratives that don’t require a lot of considered thought.

This is a generalisation, of course, as there are still some novels that gain traction that do require more analysis and questioning. But I’ve literally been told by some within the publishing industry that as a middle-aged male author, I need to be concentrating on thrillers and fast-paced stories, as opposed to literary fiction.

Because that’s what sells, and as such, should those teaching writing courses be focused on what would be considered good, artistic writing that explores the virtues of the characters, and encourages deeper thought, or should we all sign up for the next action thriller workshop, and concentrate on reimagining James Bond stories in modern settings?

I don’t know the answer, but I can tell you that many great literary works are sitting on hard drives, never to be read, because the market is just not interested in them at present.

And maybe, with short-form video swallowing up all of our leftover attention spans, there’s no way back for more considered, literary works.

cancel culture

One time, I shot myself in the foot with my opinions on writing culture, and sparked significant backlash among the Australian literary community online, by commenting on something that clearly struck a nerve.

Though that wasn’t my intention.

What happened is, I’d read a piece which discussed the literary journal ‘Overland’ adding a checkbox on one of its short-story writing competition forms which enabled entrants to signal if they were of Aboriginal or Torres Straight Islander descent. In my own subsequent post about this, I suggested that this was not how literary competitions should work, as the background of the author isn’t relevant in this context, because what matters is the quality of the work, and if this information is required, that suggests that the assessment and judgement of the competition may not be about the work itself, but could factor in these other elements.

This was not well received by a literary community that’s very keen to prop-up marginalized voices. And while it wasn’t my intention to go against this, I was pretty quickly tagged as a racist, middle-aged, out-of-touch white author for my ignorant opinions on the topic.

But the point remains, regardless of what nationality or marker you actually include in such forms. If there was a box that let you indicate that you’re white, you’re Asian, that you’re gay, that you’re a person who supports Gaza, the actual indicator itself is irrelevant in a writing competition. The fact that the organizers were collecting this informaton suggested to me that it could play some role in the judging process, which, in my opinion, goes against the fundamental purpose of any skill-based judgement, in that it should be a celebration of the work itself, not anything else.

What I didn’t know at the time (and what the Overland team told me after publishing) was that a lot of people apparently enter these competitions with stories that are written from the perspective of, say, an Indigenous person, when they are not in fact Indigenous. As such, Overland was keen to avoid publishing stories written by non-Indigenous people that may misrepresent the Indigenous experience. Doing so also takes away opportunities from marginalized voices, and while I was surprised that there would be a significant number of writers doing this, I opted to remove my post that was critical of Overland’s approach, based on my lack of understanding of this perspective.

And it’s an interesting consideration. As noted, I hadn’t thought that this would be a major problem, but essentially, what the Overland team was trying to do was to protect marginalized voices from misappropriation, not use that indicator as a means to judge the competition differently.

The experience underlined to me, once again, that there’s a lot that people who don’t experience racism don’t understand about such within Australian culture, and that it’s extremely difficult to contextualize the impact without that first-hand experience.

We hear about things like this all the time, from subtle racism in sports, to subtle sexism in the workplace, and we’re often blind to such, simply because it’s always been that way. Definitely, growing up in regional Victoria, I experienced a lot of racist attitudes, which would be exchanged as common language, and would not be challenged in any way. These were just regular jokes and remarks, shared among regular folk, that you would hear every other day.

Yet, at the same time, my instinct is that Australia isn’t a racist country, but when you think back to all the things that you’ve heard and seen on this, across all of your years in school, in sports, out in public, maybe it is a bigger problem than you realize, and maybe there is a stronger undercurrent of racism than we actually want to acknowledge or accept.

Ultimately, the experience, which was confronting for me, as it quickly snowballed into a key topic of discussion among Auslit circles for a day or so, showed me that this is not an area that I should be commenting on, as I simply don’t have the understanding to hold an informed opinion on why such an approach might be necessary. So it’s better for me to shut up and try to understand what I can, as opposed to making assumptions.

But it was a good prompt for more self evaluation, in seeking to understand more about others’ perspectives.

establish the rules of your world

I hated the most recent Star Wars films. Not ‘Rogue One’ or ‘Solo’, those were fine, while I really liked ‘The Force Awakens.’ But ‘The Last Jedi’ is, in my opinion, one of the worst films of all time, based on what Rian Johnson had to work with, and what he created as a result.

It’s also the perfect example of the need for definitive rules in world-building, and establishing parameters for your story. It doesn’t matter if it’s a fantasy novel or sci fi, or whatever else, you need to have rules, otherwise there are no stakes.

Because if anything is possible, then nothing really matters.

‘The Last Jedi’ exemplifies this, because it breaks several major rules that have been long established in the Star Wars universe, most notably in regards to Jedi powers which don’t exist. 

Luke Skywalker can’t astral project himself across the galaxy. If Jedi are able to do that, why would they ever need to appear in person, and put themselves at risk? Why would they need holographic communications devices if they can somehow do even better, projecting themselves in even higher resolution, simply by meditating? 

Jedi can’t see, via some unknown form of connection, what another person is seeing. Because again, they surely would have used this by now, it would have surely been linked to the strength of their personal connections, and we’d have seen it happen in another context.

Princess Leia can’t fly through space.

Of course, people will argue that none of what happens in Star Wars is real, so they can write in anything they want. But this is the point I’m making – you need to establish the rules of your world, otherwise nothing matters, and all sense of emotional connection in the story is lost. 

Characters randomly coming back from the dead, things happening that are totally out of character, failing to establish a logical progression to explain a significant shift. These will all kill your story’s credibility, and lose your audience as a result. 

Things can’t just happen, and it’s up to you, as the writer, to establish the rules, and/or place the breadcrumbs to facilitate key happenings

self publishing

Another avenue to consider for writing, and one that’s now become a far more viable option, is self-publishing, and using platforms like Amazon to get your work out there, and into the hands of a reading audience.

And it’s easy to do. I self-published a novel a couple of years back, just to see how difficult it was, what the opportunities may be, etc.

It is pretty simple, and with new elements like AI image generators, creating a good-looking cover, and/or promotional content, is also easier than ever, giving you even more opportunity to create a book product that you can then sell and make money from.

The actual creation process (in terms of the book product, not the writing of the novel itself) is easy. But the real challenge with self-publishing lies in effective promotion, and raising awareness of your work.

Promotion and marketing is difficult in any context, and for most authors, who spend years alone in quiet rooms, plugging away at their novel, it’s pretty intimidating to go from that setting to speaking in front of a radio mic, or a room full of people.

It’s hard to do well, and can be a nerve-wracking experience. But you have to do it, in order to get people aware that you’ve actually written a book. Because if they don’t know, they can’t buy it, right?

Social media has made this a little easier, in that you can run social media ads, targeted to the right readers, while you can also build your own social media presence to help promote your work. But this is also both expensive and time-consuming. And again, it runs counter to the personality type of most writers.

Do you really want to be posting an Instagram Story every day, in order to maintain awareness, when you’d rather be writing?

This is why traditional publishing is a better route, for those that are able to take it, because publishing houses have their own PR teams and media connections that will get that coverage for you. Then you just have to show up and speak. When you’re self-publishing, the chances of you getting anywhere near that coverage is nil, and without that initial step of actual awareness, you’re not going to generate enough sales to make any money from your self-published work.

Which is the prime challenge. Self-publishing is not just creation, it’s promotion, and you need to come up with a plan for how you’re going to get people – many people – aware that you’ve published a new book.

That’s not easy, and without a few thousand dollars in marketing budget, it’s probably not going to be the savior approach that some suggest.

You also have to write something that resonates with an audience, and like traditional publishing shifts, literary fiction is not a big seller for Amazon readers.

On Amazon, for example, romance, fantasy, mystery/thriller, and science fiction sell the best, along with self-help, while ‘romantasy’ is a rising focus. If you’re writing in these genres, then you may have a better opportunity for discovery, and I would recommend checking in with the top sellers, and learning from their success, in order to better inform your approach.

But that also means refining your personal style and approach to align with what works, which may not be how you want to go about it. In which case, you better get happy with selling a few copies to your friends and family, and not much else.

There’s also been much talk about the ‘creator economy,’ and the opportunities of social media and video platforms, which enable anybody to explore their passions and generate income from their work. The only note I would advise on this is that while you do now have more platforms through which to find an audience, 96% of all online creators earn less than $100k per year.

Most people are not making money online, or they’re not making enough to live on, and if you’re dreaming of becoming a full-time writer, the opportunities of self-publishing may not be enough to sustain that goal.

Though it depends on your approach, it depends on your targeting, how flexible you’re willing to be, how good you are at what you do, and how many people you can get to talk about your books.

Maybe, if you reach the right influencers who say the right, positive things about your books, you’ll make some big sales, and you can use that as a platform for larger success.

But then again, self-publishing platforms are also increasingly being flooded with AI-generated content, which is diluting reader trust, and will impact overall sales.

Basically, what I’m saying is that self-publishing, as a process, is easy, but self-promotion, for most writers, is very hard, and getting attention in an increasingly crowded pool of content is challenging.

So if you are going to self-publish, you need to put a lot of focus on your promotional plan, and maybe start by cultivating a targeted social media following, that’s interested in the genre you write in, before you consider publishing.

adverbs

If there was one single note of craft advice I could highlight to all writers, it would be this:

‘Avoid abstracts. No silly adverbs like sleepily, irritably, sadly, please.’

This is from Chuck Palahniuk, the author of Fight Club. And while I don’t intend for this to be an endorsement of all of Palahniuk’s writing (I love Fight Club, Survivor and Invisible Monsters, not so much his later stuff), it’s one of the best tips for writers in leaning into the ‘show don’t tell’ mindset.

Because a lot of people have trouble understanding what ‘show don’t tell’ actually means. This rule forces you to apply it. 

So, rather than saying ‘he moved quickly,’ you’re going to have to come up with a description to add color to that term.

‘He moved like a snake lunging towards its prey.’ Depending on the movement, this would be a more specific, more visceral, and more engaging description that better captures the actual action or scene.

I hate reading bad adverbs. Quickly, rapidly, speedily. Harshly, roughly, leisurely. All of these can be written better, and can help to build the story through creative, mentally engaging, descriptive means.

Adverbs are lazy. I mean, not all of them, and you are going to have to use some. Also, simplicity often works best. But it is worth reviewing any adverbs that you’ve included, and to think about what you’re describing.

I’m willing to bet that in a lot of cases, you’ll come up with a better option.

kids fiction

Are we taking the right approach in teaching kids to read, and fostering a literary and reading culture among children?

According to the stats, kids books continue to sell well, and there are a broad range of popular titles and celebrity-assigned kids’ book series that appeal to both parents and children alike. And it makes sense that kids books would sell, because parents are keen to encourage healthy behaviors like reading, so they’re more than willing to buy books to encourage kids to read.

But, at the same time, most of these titles would hardly qualify as reading, nor teaching kids an appreciation of books.

The ‘Dog Man’ series is a set of very basic comic strips in book form, and while the books average about 250 pages each, they only include about 4k words across those pages. The ‘Treehouse’ series is a joke book written by adults for kids, while Ahn Do’s kids books are simplified cliches. Many of these titles aren’t creative nor educational, yet they sell a heap, because they’re cool, and kids feel good saying that they read books, which then gains the approval of adults.

But are they really learning to read? Is this really beneficial?

I don’t know, it feels like we’re missing the point, and that the authors are often capitalizing on market trends, as opposed to contributing to broader literary education.

But then again, the counterargument would be that any reading is a positive, and kids wouldn’t bother reading at all if they didn’t have simple books like this that they can latch onto. And maybe, the very act of sitting down with a book is a positive step for literary culture in itself. But it just feels like there should be more responsibility among kids book authors to encourage increasingly complex literary trends, as opposed to making up fart jokes and pretending that they’re champions of education.

I don’t know, there’s no simple answer I guess, but we seem to be too accepting of these types of books as guides for our youngsters, when they’re likely not benefiting anyone other than the publishers of such.

Maybe I’m missing some critical link between these simple books and expanded comprehension in book form, but it seems to me like we should be more wary of what content we’re providing to our kids.

novel influence

We vastly underrate the value of stories, and the contributions that they make to society.

Creative writing, like all arts, is often seen as an expendable funding element, and among the first option when it comes to, say, funding cuts by government bodies.

“Why should our taxes pay for this guy to sit at home and make up stories?”

I know the arguments, and anyone in any creative industry has felt the impacts of such in action. But this perspective doesn’t account for the transformative power of storytelling, and the ways in which writing, painting, music, and every other form of creative pursuit can influence the way that we live.

Put simply, novels are the closest that you will ever get to experiencing the world through somebody else’s eyes.

On the surface, that may not seem like a major thing, but in all of human history, it’s stories that have changed minds, more than anything else, be it in books, movies, short videos on YouTube, etc.

This is why literature is inherently political, because in the telling of stories from varied perspectives, we highlight how people live, and how they experience the world. And that can then sway opinions on social topics, though at the same time, I don’t believe that art should be overtly political in this respect, with a specific aim of reinforcing a political point, or underlining a topical stance.

Artists have a responsibility to the work itself, and nothing else. You could argue that they also have a responsibility to their readers, in ensuring that they remain true to the world that they’ve created, but I would say that this is part and parcel of the first consideration, that in order to create a resonant art work, you need to remain committed to its creation, and stay true to the parameters within which it exists.

That’s where the truth comes from, in being honest about your characters and the situations that they inhabit, exploring the true nature of the work, then presenting that to an audience. It doesn’t have to be ‘good guys versus bad guys,’ it doesn’t have to showcase a specific perspective. An artist should remain attached to the vision of the work, and explore that with a commitment to sharing the characters’ perspective, no matter what direction that may lead.

By presenting things as they are, whether it’s in fiction, non-fiction, in painting, or anything else, you’re then allowing the reader to engage with another perspective. And from that, they can decide how they feel about it.

And that choice is powerful. Depicting rich aristocrats, for example, doesn’t need to be caricatures and clichés, which is the most obvious choice for a general audience, because an honest depiction of who they are, and how they live, will then inevitably also lead to sharing how they view the world, and why they do what they do.

And the reader can judge that for themself.

This is how art changes minds, and highlights society as it exists.

Even in science fiction, remaining true to the parameters of the world that you’ve created will inevitably lead to parallels that mirror real world thinking. The ‘why’ of the story is the driving force, and we read books to get a better sense of why characters do the things that they do, which is influenced by where they come from, what they’ve seen, and how they’ve been treated.

This is how we learn more about the world around us through books, and in my opinion, no other medium is as immersive in sharing somebody else’s perspective as a novel.

The stories may be made up, but the human center of the best fiction is what will always connect us to it.

lit crit

One key piece of advice that my mentor Christos Tsiolkas gave me before the publication of my first novel was this:

‘Don’t ever reply to critics’

Christos said that people are going to say what they say, and definitely, some of it is going to annoy you. But there’s no good outcome if you respond, there’s nothing you can say that hasn’t been said in the novel itself, and you’re best to just let the work have a life of its own, and be happy with what you’ve produced.

I wonder if this still applies in the modern literary landscape, where audience engagement on social media is now such a big consideration, and where publishers actually want authors to have an active presence, and be more than their work.

Because these days, who the author is matters. Where the writer came from, their life and inspirations, what they stand for, what they represent, all of these things matter more than they used to. Topicality will get you more press coverage, or at least more opportunities for interviews and discussion, while taking a definitive stance is a big part of social media resonance more broadly, due to discussion stemming from your opinions, in agreement or not, which can prompt algorithmic boosts. The modern media landscape is much more politically driven, and if you can play into that, you’ll get more coverage and awareness.

So maybe, you should respond to critics, or at least the ones who question who you are, using that as an opportunity to communicate your own stances and opinions. That could actually be a positive, but it is interesting to consider the shift in this respect.

For a lot of my favorite authors, I would have no idea who they are, beyond their work. Amy Hempel is my favorite writer, and I can’t say that I know anything much about her personal life, except that she likes dogs. Cormac McCarthy lived a fairly quiet life, though there are questionable elements of his personal history. But I have no clue what his political stances might be. I assume had he published Blood Meridian in 2025, we’d know much more about him, and that may have even tainted his legacy (if, of course, Blood Meridian would even make it to print these days).

It’s interesting to consider the shift in the way that the media handles people who come to public attention, from writers to actors and everybody else, and how we now know so much more about who they are, and what they care about, than we did in the past.

Is that a better way to approach creative talent? Do we need to know more beyond their work?

In some ways, yes. It’s good to know, for example, that J.K. Rowling has some disagreeable stances, though that does also make me a little more hesitant about supporting her work. 

Is that the way that it should be, that external factors sway how we feel about their output?

Ideally, we should probably seek to judge all creative output on its merits alone, and how well the artist has expressed their vision. That would be the most pure assessment of art. 

But that would also mean overlooking certain things in favor of the end result, ignoring ugly truths in favor of beautiful creations.

And that’s the way of the past, in the pre-internet era, in which predators could go unchecked for years because of their talent, and it was easier to obscure such from the public.

That’s not a good outcome either, but judging artists on anything other than the work itself also feels unfair, and could mean overlooking merit.

But in the social media era, this is more important than ever.

But if having the “wrong” opinions could kill your career, that also means that we may well be missing out on some of the best, most impactful work.

Either way, it’s another consideration in your broader literary journey, and how you maximize your opportunities.

horror fiction

I’ve been reading a bit of horror fiction of late, which I was guided towards via BookTok trends on TikTok.

TikTok is now one of the biggest influences of book sales, with trending titles getting big sales boosts, simply by catching on with the right creators. 

So maybe there’s something to it, and my thought process was that maybe I could learn what people are reading, and maybe that might resonate with my own work.

I also came to horror fiction via Jeff VenderMeer’s ‘Annihilation,’ which is a book that I love. Annihilation, the novel, is very different from the movie that Alex Garland made back in 2018, and the book has a whole lot more depth and structural resonance, based on literary devices, not on CGI creatures. 

I also love the way that it was crafted. VanderMeer says the idea came to him in a dream, and it definitely has that raw, unhinged creative feel to it, while also being tied back to a traditional Hero’s Journey model. 

So I decided to read horror fiction, based on recommendations on TikTok and the results have been…

Well, not great.

A lot of horror stories don’t work for me because they focus on the freaky elements, and not on the story and logic behind what’s happening. You see this in horror movies as well, some weird thing happens, and rather than offering explanation and resolution, you get ‘demon possession.’ The devil possessed them so anything can happen, which is really annoying for anybody that’s looking for a complete story, and a logic within the setting of the narrative.

If demon possession covers everything from heads exploding to people flying, then where’s the tension? And if there are no constraints, then where’s the consequence? I just can’t go with it when you explain away everything as ‘unexplainable,’ because it’s too open-ended to have any emotional pay off.

And so many horror novels are just badly written. They focus on the horror elements, the gore and violence, and everything else is just cliche. The bad guys are clearly bad, because they do bad things, then they get eaten by the monster and you don’t feel anything much about it. The good people are kind and caring and infallible. To me, that’s not how you write a compelling narrative.

But it is interesting to consider from a broader literary industry perspective, with respect to what’s selling at present.

Do you know which chain is the biggest book seller in Australia right now? It’s Big W, and Big W’s book section is primarily focused on cliche-ridden pulp fiction, with limited depth and far too familiar stories.

But that’s what readers are buying, and maybe, then, that’s what writers should be looking to write, if they want to actually sell their work. 

What BookTok recommendations have shown me is that cliches still work, and basic story structures still resonate. And maybe, given changes in reading habits, these are the only readers buying enough to sustain authors at present. 

writing and motivation

Why do you write?

This is a question that I’ve been going over in my mind in recent months as I assess where my fiction projects are at.

For context, while my first novel, which was released in 2007, sold reasonably well for a lit fic debut, and won several awards, my second, released 11 years later, did not fare as strongly, which may well be the death knell for my literary career – because if you can’t show publishers that you can generate ongoing sales, ideally to an established audience, then they have less reason to reinvest in your next project.

That’s basically where I’m at. The market has changed a lot since my debut, and the reasons why people buy and read books has also shifted, with a significant portion of book marketing now focused on the author’s story, alongside the work itself. This, of course, has always been an element, but in the age of social media, author identity is a bigger consideration, and if you’re not doing all that you can to establish an audience, based on who you are as well as what you write, you’re once again diminishing your marketing value, and thus, your prospects of being published.

But I remain confident in my work. My writing is of a publishable standard, and I’ve completed several new manuscripts. I just can’t get anyone to read them. Like at all.

Which then begs the question – why write? Why do you set out on a literary project, and what are you aiming to get from your efforts?

If it’s fame and money, then lit fic is not for you, and money has never been a major element of why I write (luckily).

Ideally, you want readers, you want to connect with an audience, and a general lack of interest in reading has definitely become more pronounced, among people that I know at least.

It used to be that people would read on the train home, or they’d squeeze in a couple of chapters, propped up on a pillow in bed, before switching out the light. Now, we have phones to soak up all those gaps in attention, which makes it harder to get anyone to commit to reading long-form fiction.

People still read, with crime fiction and thrillers, as well as books from established authors still selling reasonably well. But it feels like it’s a harder pitch to get people to commit to 250+ pages than it’s ever been, which increases the barriers to success.

So if you can’t make money, and readers aren’t overly excited to check out your new stuff, is it worth writing at all?

I don’t know, and I’ve been grappling with the concept, as I continue to work on different fiction projects and ideas over time.

It seems that we now simultaneously have more pathways into publishing than ever before, with the internet and self-publishing so prominent and readily available, while we also have fewer actual readers to reach.

Then again, you don’t need a huge audience to make it worthwhile (dependent on your aims), and maybe then, self-publishing is the way to go, just to keep things going, just to keep it moving, while ideally also helping you to build an audience and establish your own market.

Maybe that’s the path I should take – but even then, it doesn’t feel like that’s really what I want, that’s not the reason that I want to write.

So what is it? What makes you want to come up with a story and map it out and write it down and put all the pieces together and have it all complete?

For me, completion is, at least in part, the goal. I have a concept that I want to explore, I develop the characters, and I’m interested to learn more about their lives and experiences, while also refining my writing and creating a dynamic, moving story. I love doing that, I love writing and re-writing, then leaving it for a few months before checking back in, to read your own words with fresh eyes. That still excites me – and maybe that’s enough, maybe I don’t need outside recognition or acknowledgment as much as I just need that creative outlet, for my own sanity as much as anything else.

But it still feels like a bit of a let down. I spend all that time crafting something complete, something that comes together, that builds page-by-page. And no one will ever read it.

Is that enough? I’m still coming to terms with that, and considering my stance, but right now, despite my latest work, in my view, being far more advanced than my past efforts, it’s just sitting on my hard drive, gathering digital dust.

So is it worth starting something new, when no one’s interested in what you have?
For me, as a learning and development exercise, there is still value in the next project. And market trends shift, things come back around. Maybe another opportunity is coming.

Till then, I’ll keep working, and see where the next story takes me.