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We first connected with Mazey Eddings for her debut novel’s publication and featured her in our March/April 2022 Issue‘s Breaking In column. Now that her next publication hit shelves yesterday, we’re reconnecting with her for a quick Q&A.

What was the time frame for writing this latest book?

Time is such a blur, and publishing time is a different beast entirely, so I’m not 100 percent sure! I know the first hints of Well, Actually came to me in September 2022 as I was heading on tour for my sophomore novel Lizzie Blake’s Best Mistake. I jotted down a bunch of ideas about this second chance romance that starts with a viral callout, and then didn’t touch it again for quite some time until it was sold on proposal in August 2023. Because publishing contracts are weird, and my situation was somewhat unique in having multi-book contracts I was navigating plus severe writer’s block on one that was due, Well, Actually was supposed to be my eighth published book and come out in 2026/27. But my main characters, Eva and Rylie, were so loud and rompy and irreverent, and I wouldn’t let me work on anything else, and I got the greenlight to bump their story up in the cue, and I turned in the initial draft in April 2024, and it is my sixth published book.

Has your perspective on the publication process changed since your debut was published?

So much. I think I’ve come more to terms with how little is in my control when it comes to publishing. I’ve spent the last five years since my debut got picked up by my publisher, pushing and grinding and saying yes to anything and everything that came my way and spending so much time strategizing and agonizing on what I could do to make a book “successful” or a “break-out.” The reality is there is nothing I alone can do to really change the trajectory of one of my books. All I can focus on is creating a story that I genuinely love and hoping that it finds the readers that will love it too. Being hungry and pushing and asking for things in publishing is good and important, but I’ve learned not to feel so much despair when that pushing doesn’t yield the results I would hope for.

What was the biggest surprise while getting this book ready for publication?

How much more excited readers seem for it! As I’ve mentioned, this is my sixth book, so none of this process is new to me, but early readers seem to be responding differently to Well, Actually compared to my past books. I have no idea why things seem to be different this time around, though!

What do you feel you did really well with this novel?

I honored my characters’ voices, particularly my heroine. Eva is an extremely prickly and irreverent female main character, and her sass and crass are a protection mechanism, but I knew while drafting that she would be deemed “unlikeable” by many readers. I decided early on that if Eva didn’t care how she was perceived, then I wouldn’t be the one to water her down! My characters feel very real to me—and Eva is a particularly precious one—and I had so much fun discovering what she would do next, and I like to think that by being true to her character, she’ll feel real to readers as well.

Anything you would have done differently?

With this book? Not at the moment. The more time and space I get from each novel, the more I realize what I could have changed or tried, but I also am a firm believer that once a book is done, it’s important to allow it to just be. I think of my books as little time capsules for where I was as an author at different stages. There are things I would change and edit down or fine-tune if I were writing past stories now with more words under my belt (fingers?), but who am I to edit the purple prose of 25-year-old me? She needed to be gratuitous and sweeping and play with words as she did. 

Would you like to share some advice for our readers?

I think this is advice I shared with WD readers in the past, but protect your joy of writing at all costs. This job is brutal, creating art is brutal, so it is imperative that you fiercely defend and safeguard the joy it brings you.

What’s next for you?

I’m not sure how much I can say at this point, so I’ll leave it at an angsty, sapphic romance dedicated to Stevie Knicks and inspired by her singing “Silver Springs” at Lindsey Buckingham live in 1997. It releases August 2026.

Where can our audience find you online?

Newsletter: Mazey.substack.com
Instagram: Instagram.com/mazeyeddings
Threads: Threads.com/@mazeyeddings

The post Breaking Out: Mazey Eddings appeared first on Writer's Digest.

In this interview, Mariah discusses breaking writing rules in her debut short story collection, Extinction Capital of the World, her advice for other writers, and more.

Name: Mariah Rigg
Literary agent: Amy Bishop-Wycisk, Trellis Literary Management
Book title: Extinction Capital of the World
Publisher: Ecco
Release date: August 5, 2025
Genre/category: Literary Fiction/Short Stories
Elevator pitch: Magnetic, haunting, and tender, Extinction Capital of the World is a stunning portrait of Hawaiʻi—and a powerful meditation on family, queer love, and community amid imperialism and environmental collapse.

Bookshop | Amazon
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What prompted you to write this book?

Growing up, I didn’t see a lot of positive depictions—or really, a lot of depictions at all—of Hawaiʻi in popular media. The depictions of the Hawaiian Islands I did see often reinforced settler colonial structures of sugar and pineapple plantations, extractive tourism, and the American military industrial complex’s occupation of the islands. As a child, I didn’t understand the extent of the harm perpetuated by these stereotyped depictions of my home. It wasn’t until my teens that I began to recognize my own role as a settler of Hawaiʻi, and to interrogate how the stories of the Islands I saw in popular media were used to occupy both the narrative surrounding Hawaiʻi, and the literal islands themselves.

Some of the stories in Extinction Capital of the World are written from my anger toward the people who have and continue to bastardize and colonize the Hawaiian Islands. But most of the stories are written from a place of deep love. I feel like I’m always repeating this wisdom, but I had a mentor once tell me: You write to the places you’re not. For the past five years, I’ve been writing love letters to Hawaiʻi. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop.

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

I wrote the earliest story—“After Ivan,” a queer love story between an American and Soviet Olympic kayaker, set just before the 1989 fall of Berlin—in February of 2020. I was halfway through my first year in the MFA program at the University of Oregon and had no idea how to write a short story, let alone a collection. I thought maybe I could sell “After Ivan” by stretching it into a novel, but as I continued to write stories, I found a momentum building.

I never set out to write a linked collection. But as I revised stories for my MFA thesis, I realized that what I’d thought had been separate lives was really a universe. Much like my own childhood on Oʻahu, the characters in my Extinction Capital of the World are hopelessly intertwined—through blood, marriage, work, friendship, the ʻāina, and over and over again, through love and loss. Only a third of the stories I’ve written between 2020 and now are in the final book. I think I queried at least three different times, with different arrangements of stories and different titles, before signing with Amy Bishop-Wycisk in 2023.

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

So, so, so many! Writing a book and publishing a book feels like it requires two completely different parts of the brain—one’s creative and world-building, the other is a lot of admin. I’ve been lucky that my agent Amy Bishop-Wycisk, my editor Rachel Sargent, my publicist Nina Leopold, and my teams at Trellis and Ecco have been so patient and kind.

One of the most surprising and affirming things in this publication process is the number of truly amazing people I’ve gotten to meet. It’s so easy to fall into stress and anxiety when you’re working to get your book on shelves—will I get enough blurbs? Is my book in the hands of the “right” people? After the years of work I put into this book, is anyone even going to read or like it?

This past January, I was driving through Kentucky when my partner and I stopped into a record store to browse. If you’re ever in Louisville, you have to stop by Surface Noise. Part record store, part bookstore, part gallery, the place has rotating art exhibits, monthly readings, and shows. My partner is an extrovert, and he and the owner immediately hit it off. We found out that the owner is a poet—Brett Eugene Ralph, whose book Black Sabbatical, published by Sarabande, is an absolute banger—and that he’d studied at UMass Amherst with David Berman. Brett Eugene was thoughtful and funny, selling us Gabby Pahinui’s “Rabbit Island Music Festival” for a fraction of its value, and inviting us to do a reading at the store later in the year. I was pretty frantic about my book at the time, but what he said as I left the store helped me to reality check: “You’ve got to remember that we do all this”—he gestured and the records and books and prints in the store around him—“for the access it gives us to other artists. For the community we form.” And you know what? He’s so right.

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

This book was at least three other books before it became this one. The biggest change between the first draft and the book that will be on shelves is the addition of “Target Island,” which opens the collection, and the titular story, “Extinction Capital of the World,” which closes the book out. I wrote these two stories the winter before I queried for the last time and honestly wasn’t thinking about how they’d fit into my larger body of work as I drafted them. I just wanted to play with form and voice. When I returned to each of them in the spring of 2023, I began to see how they were connected and knew that they’d have to be in the collection.

As I’ve gotten more comfortable writing short stories, I’ve been more willing to mess with form and point of view and voice. I’m grateful that the first draft of this book wasn’t published, because even though I love the stories that were cut from the collection, a lot of them felt more “traditional,” which contributed to a sense of repetition and even stagnancy in the collection. I wouldn’t say this book is weird, but my hope as a writer (and person) is to keep getting weirder. Breaking “rules” in my writing gives me the courage to do the same in my life.

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

I hope people will stop telling me about their vacations to Hawaiʻi. Ha. But really, I do hope that this book helps people to reconsider their role as consumers and perpetrators of settler colonialism in Hawaiʻi, the North American continent, and beyond. As Haunani-Kay Trask famously said: “The First world nations must still learn what Pacific Islanders have known for millennia: Upon the survival of the Pacific depends the survival of the world.” Now more than ever is the time to educate ourselves on the infinite ways that our struggles are connected.

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

Don’t count yourself out before you’ve even begun. There are enough people out there who want to knock you down a peg, and you don’t have to be one of them. Apply for every single thing you can afford (and always ask for fee waivers!), even if it feels out of reach, because you might just get it. Write the story everyone tells you won’t work, because if you’re interested in it, odds are there are thousands of other people who will be interested in it, too. Rejection hurts, and I’m not sure it ever gets better, but “no” is a lot better than wishing you’d done more, that you’d had the courage to believe in yourself.

The post Mariah Rigg: I’m Grateful That the First Draft of This Book Wasn’t Published appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(5 Tips for Giving Your Character Powers.)

The primary level of secondary characters are those who are most important to the life of the sleuth, and therefore the plot. The best supporting role at the Oscars! The romantic interest, the villain, the possessive mother. We need to know a lot about them because we need to understand their motivation. Is the boyfriend worthy of her love, why does the villain want revenge? It really helps if we can picture them clearly and hear their voices too.

In my new book, Mrs. Endicott’s Splendid Adventure, my heroine is dumped by her husband and flees to the South of France with two women who have both been treated unjustly by society. We come to know a great deal about all three women by the end of the book as they interact with the heroine and with those around them.

Then at the level below that, we have characters with whom they will interact with in the French village. Characters important enough to the plot that we need to know who they are, some of their back story, and what drives them. Once a character betrays the heroine. We find out why, but we don’t know everything about him.

Below these are those who would be the extras in a movie: the baker in the village, the priest, the doctor. They are just cameo appearances and therefore we don’t need to go too deeply into describing them. We don’t need to know what motivates the baker to make bread. But we must take pains to make sure they are more than cardboard stereotypes: The Irish Cop. The wicked stepmother, the rough edged waitress with the heart of gold.

If you see each of them as an individual, your story will be fresher. Think Harry Potter and the secondary characters—the individual professors and students, Harry’s uncle and aunt. All real people that we feel we know well.

Click to continue.

So how do we create real people when we don’t want to give up too much of the page to describe them? Our first impression of a person is usually visual, although it could be auditory like an annoying laugh across the room or someone who can’t stop sneezing.

1. Try to find something about them that encapsulates them. Think of a party in a room where we know nobody. As we look around, some people catch our eye and stand out. That woman is wearing too much make-up and trying to look younger than she is. That elderly man has dyed his hair black and it doesn’t go with his too pale skin and eyebrows. That woman talks with her hands. Is she Italian? That too tall boy stoops because he’s self conscious.
2. They come to life through their dialogue, especially when they interact with the main character. When we first meet them, are they rude, curt, witty, flirtatious? Do they like to talk about themselves? Are they hesitant, shy, feeling out of place? Menacing, spooky? Their dialogue also helps to anchor the story in time and place. If the heroine has moved to a new environment, it is the characters she meets who will show us what that new place is all about, by the way they talk, act, move, dress.
3. They reveal themselves through their gestures, mannerisms, the way they walk. The woman sitting at the restaurant table scratching lines on the tablecloth with her fork is clearly tense. Why? Another man is gulping down his food. As a writer, take time to observe when you are stuck in an airport, or waiting for your food.
4. Names are important. Once you have the name, you know the character. Sometimes I will have called a character Robert for 50 pages and things are going slowly. Then out of the blue he’ll say “Why do you keep calling me Robert when my name is Richard?” And then the story just leaps ahead. 
5. Once you have introduced them, their character will be revealed not only by the way they speak and act but by the way the main character interacts with them or observes them. You will come to know them as she does.
6. With secondary characters, as with your main character, once you have created them it’s their story. Don’t try to force them to do things it’s not within their nature to do. Allow yourself to be surprised if they say or do something unexpected. In every book, at least one of my characters surprises me and goes on to play a role I hadn’t expected. Be open to that. It makes the story much richer and more real.
7. Hint: Only give up precious time and space to those who will further the story for us. We don’t need to know that the policeman holding up the traffic when the heroine is in a desperate hurry is tall, ginger haired with a little mustache. Not important.
8. Another Hint: Don’t introduce us to too many characters at once. You confuse the reader.
9. And a last hint: If you really want to understand a character, write a paragraph in their first person. You’ll be surprised at what they want to tell you.

My whole aim when I write about another time and place is to take the reader there, not tell them about it. And it’s the secondary characters who will make this world real.

Check out Rhys Bowen’s Mrs. Endicott’s Splendid Adventure here:

Bookshop | Amazon

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The post On Creating Secondary Characters appeared first on Writer's Digest.

In this interview, Rachel discusses how writing out a rant at her daughter’s swim meet led to her new horror novel, Tantrum, her hope for readers, and more.

Name: Rachel Eve Moultong
Literary agent: Kim Witherspoon, Inkwell
Book title: Tantrum
Publisher: Penguin Random House
Release date: August 5, 2025
Genre/category: Horror
Previous titles: Tinfoil Butterfly; The Insatiable Volt Sisters
Elevator pitch: What would you do if your baby girl was born with a full set of teeth and an untoward appetite? What would you do if she wanted to devour the world?

Bookshop | Amazon
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What prompted you to write this book?

When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I was surprised by the parts of pregnancy no one had ever warned me about. It seemed to me that there was a full-length-horror movie of details that had been left out. So, at the end of the 16-hour extravaganza called labor, when I finally got to hold my newborn in my arms, I found myself shouting directly into her sweet face, “It’s a baby! It’s a baby!” I didn’t fully understand until that moment that I’d felt sure I was carrying around a monster rather than a beautiful, strong baby girl. The relief was overwhelming.

Lucia, the protagonist’s baby in Tantrum, is the monstrous version of that baby.

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

The first draft of this book came to me pretty quickly. I wrote much of it by hand on the bleachers of my eldest daughter’s swim meets. And although it took another six months to shape it into something I was ready to show to anyone else, the idea and character voice remained the same.

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

My aforementioned daughter was briefly a part of a club swim team, which meant a tremendous amount of time spent in hot, chlorinated spaces waiting for her to swim for approximately 39 seconds. Weekends were spent on bleachers, which were particularly physically and emotionally painful—I’m being only a little dramatic. I would look around at the other parents and wonder why they all looked so happy to be there. It was miserable! At one of these meets, I sat in my camp chair on those bleachers and wrote an early draft of Tantrum by hand. It was more of a rant than a story at that time, but it came out almost all at once. A novel the length of a swim meet!

The next step was shaping the rant I’d written into a plot driven story. This was where I learned, once again, what a tremendous editor I have. Daphne Durham was able to see the first rambling draft and help me shape it into the full world it is today. She reminded me to focus on the narrative and not just the voice.

Always listen to your editor!

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

My hope is that the novel’s exploration of generational trauma and motherhood will make readers feel less alone in their experience. Becoming a parent often coincides with a genuine curiosity about how your parents parented you. Often this exploration opens untended wounds, and the opportunity to see yourself in a new light. I want to encourage women to dive into this exploration. To try to understand their own anger in order to pass something more examined down to the next generation.

Shame thrives in the dark. It gains power when the experience of it is not voiced. The examination of our own horrors, inherited or of our own making, leads to freedom.

I also hope Tantrum makes readers rage a little and laugh a lot.

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

Rejection doesn’t mean you are a bad writer or even that the rejected piece is bad. It only means that you need to keep writing until you find your authentic voice and with it your audience.

The post Rachel Eve Moultong: Always Listen to Your Editor appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(How Do I Develop a Character’s Voice?)

Banter is a specific subset of dialogue with a teasing or playful tone. It’s dialogue with an edge and sometimes, depending on the characters, it even has teeth.

As a rom-com author, I know my readers expect to find good banter when they open one of my books. But what makes for good banter? To explore what good banter needs to be successful, let’s look at five ways to ruin good banter.

How to Ruin Good Banter in 5 Easy Steps

1. Technical Issues

To write effective banter, it’s important to master the technical parts of dialogue first. Dialogue needs to clearly indicate who’s speaking so the reader doesn’t get confused. Too many dialogue tags, too few, or too many alternative words for “said” can all impact the effectiveness of dialogue.

As you read back through a section of dialogue, check first to make sure it’s clear who is speaking each line. Vary the dialogue tags, gestures (the actions or movements a character makes around a line), and lines that have neither. You can also change up where these indicators are located—at the start, end, or even in the middle of a line of dialogue.

The goal is for the technical setup to be so seamless that readers are never pulled out of the story to notice your hard work.

2. Imitation Conversation

Have you ever read a transcript for an interview? Even the most entertaining conversation loses its shine when recorded word for word. The second way to ruin witty banter is to make it too close to actual dialogue.

As Anne Lamott puts it in Bird by Bird, “You’re not reproducing actual speech—you’re translating the sound and rhythm of what a character says into words. You’re putting down on paper your sense of how the characters speak.” Banter needs to sound like an actual conversation, not be a literal conversation.

3. Bad Rhythm

Like dancing, dialogue doesn’t work without a good sense of rhythm. Banter is snappy and tends to have a faster pace than typical dialogue. But it also needs to be balanced out by various line lengths to avoid sounding stilted and boring.

The best way to test rhythm is to read it out loud. Listening will reveal where the interplay between the characters shines. It will help you see where to slow the pace by adding a dialogue tag or physical gesture—like a character taking a sip of water or fidgeting with something.

Bad rhythm is what stops the banter from bantering.

Click to continue.

4. Lack of Characterization or Uniqueness

The most common piece of advice I hear regarding dialogue is to make each character’s speech be something only they would say. Of course, this isn’t possible for every line of dialogue in a book. But a quick way to ruin banter is to have such generic lines that they could be said by any old character in any old book.

Sometimes when I’m in a groove, writing banter is easy, as though I’m eavesdropping on an actual fictional conversation. Other times, I simply write basic prose in the first draft, then push for more in edits.

Is there another way for a character to say that they’re tired? Is there an analogy or comparison they could use that relates to their job or interests? Does this character have an extensive vocabulary? Do they tend to speak in complete sentences or choppy fragments?

The better you know your characters, the easier it will be to write dialogue that sounds unique and uniquely like them.

5. Missing Subtext

One of the things that makes banter really sing is what the characters aren’t saying. It’s the unspoken current running beneath the words.

How does he really feel about her? What secret is she keeping? Why is he reacting so strongly at this moment?

This work requires not only knowing your characters but keeping in mind their motivations as well as the things they do and don’t really want to say. When writing conversations between Wyatt and Josie in my book If All Else Sails, I tried to remember at all times how they felt about each other, how they each wanted the other person to think they felt, and what they really wished they could say to each other.

While this is subtle work, I think of it like infusing the banter with the kind of depth that really brings it—and the characters—to life.

In her book, Wired for Story, Lisa Cron states that “when a story enthralls us, we are inside of it … and the last thing we’re focusing on is the mechanics of the thing.” Great dialogue—and especially great banter—is usually doing several things at once and doing them so well that readers don’t even notice.

The goal is to work so well at crafting your banter that readers don’t see the hard work—they’re too busy lost in the moment.

Check out Emma St. Clair’s If All Else Sails here:

Bookshop | Amazon

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The post Writing Witty Banter That Actually Works (by Looking at How to Ruin Good Banter in 5 Easy Steps) appeared first on Writer's Digest.

In this interview, Joy discusses the surprising humor in her new thriller, Jenny Cooper Has a Secret, her desire to see older characters across all genres, and more.

Name: Joy Fielding
Literary Agent: Tracy Fisher at WME
Book title: Jenny Cooper Has a Secret
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Release date: August 5, 2025
Genre: Psychological suspense
Previous titles: The Housekeeper; Cul-de-sac; All the Wrong Places; The Bad Daughter; She’s Not There; Someone Is Watching; Shadow Creek; Now You See Her; The Wild Zone: Still Life; Charley’s Web; Heartstopper; Mad River Road; Puppet; Lost; Whispers and Lies; Grand Avenue; The First Time; Missing Pieces; Don’t Cry Now; Tell Me No Secrets: See Jane Run; Good Intentions; The Deep End; Life Penalty; The Other Woman: Kiss Mommy Goodbye; Trance; The Transformation; The Best of Friends. Plus Home Invasion, a novella designed to encourage adult literacy.
Elevator pitch: A 92-year-old woman suffering from dementia claims to be a serial killer.

Bookshop | Amazon
[WD uses affiliate links.]

What prompted you to write this book?

As far as what prompted me to write this book, I’ve always enjoyed writing suspense, and I thought it would be an interesting twist on the genre—as well as high time—to have both the protagonist and the villain of the novel be women over the age of 70 (and one of them over 90!). Older women have been largely ignored in suspense fiction—all fiction, for that matter—and I thought it was time for our voices to be heard. I also just found the whole topic of memory and how it defines us to be a fascinating subject to explore.

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

It generally takes about two years from the time I conceive an idea until it ends up in print. It’s about a year from the time I get an idea until the book is finished, and then another year—sometimes longer—to go through the editing and other publishing-related issues. As to whether the idea for this book changed during this process, the answer is that while the basic idea didn’t change, the manuscript itself underwent a number of changes. I did some restructuring to heighten the suspense in the first half of the book, and I made a number of cuts to dialogue that were too repetitious. I also made a significant change regarding something that happens to a secondary character. But as I said, the basic idea remained the same.

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

Frankly, I’m always a little surprised when an editor feels some changes are necessary to my books, especially involving structure, because I usually don’t let an editor see the manuscript before I’m pretty sure it’s perfect. But writers have editors for a reason, and I’m always willing to listen to advice that will improve the book. In the case of Jenny Cooper Has a Secret, my original editor felt that while the first half of the book contained plenty of drama, it needed more suspense, which she stressed was not the same thing, so she asked me to move some things around and to try to amp up the suspense in the first half. This involved a lot more work than I’m used to—and frankly, don’t particularly like. Restructuring is very hard because when you change one little thing, it changes everything that came before and after. It’s a lot of work! After I made the changes, the editor still felt I could do more, but I disagreed, and thankfully, my current editor agreed with me. Jenny Cooper is more a psychological page-turner than hard-core thriller.

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

I believe it was Flannery O’Connor who once said that if the writer is never surprised, you can’t expect the reader to be surprised, so I look forward to the little surprises that come my way when I’m writing. I always know the beginning and the end of my novels and a few key things that have to happen along the way. I used to write a fairly detailed outline, and this is something I would still recommend to beginning authors. But the more books I write, the shorter my outlines get. As I said, I always know how my books will end, although I don’t always know precisely how. But in writing suspense, you have to know where you’re going to end up in order to build that suspense and everything has to be a little bigger than what came before. If you don’t know where you’re headed, you can’t do that, and you end up wandering all over the place, which just means an awful lot of rewriting. In Jenny Cooper, what surprised me was how funny the book turned out to be and how sympathetic the women were. I got very attached to these women, and actually found myself tearing up at one point. I didn’t expect that.

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

I hope that, above all, readers will just totally enjoy the book and find it impossible to put down. I also hope that readers will recognize themselves in the characters and care about their fates. I hope that they’ll realize that stories can still be written that are modern and new while featuring older protagonists.

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

If I could share one piece of advice with other writers, it would be this: When telling the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, bring on the three bears! In other words, get to the interesting part of the story.

The post Joy Fielding: I Always Know the Beginning and the End of My Novels appeared first on Writer's Digest.

That was the conundrum I found myself in when I started writing my latest thriller, The Deepest Fake.

(Live-writing My Thriller Novel.)

As a practicing physician, I’ve always felt confident fictionalizing medical topics, where my background lends an air of authority, deserved or not. But when The Deepest Fake plunged me into the world of artificial intelligence, I couldn’t rely on my day job anymore. Readers wouldn’t, and shouldn’t, give me the same benefit of the doubt. I’m, at best, tech literate adjacent.

Through researching and writing this book, I stumbled on some important lessons—many of them the hard way—about weaving AI and emerging technology into a story that feels authentic. The biggest takeaway? I didn’t have to be a neural network engineer to tell a convincing story about the human consequences of high-tech innovation.

Readers expect credibility, but in fiction, they don’t need a deep technical breakdown of the subject matter. In other words, they don’t have to see under the hood to enjoy the ride. Overexplaining science slows the pace and pulls readers out of the story. Instead of delving into cloud infrastructure, I opted to show the emotional fallout from a deepfake: the devastation, helplessness, and shame of a victim whose voice and image have been twisted beyond their control.

All genre fiction—whether it’s historical romance, legal thriller, or Nordic noir—requires some world-building. That challenge becomes even trickier with AI and technology, where it’s easy to overwhelm or confuse readers. What helped me most was using the characters to explain the science to one another, rather than rely on the narrator. Dialogue gave me the freedom to simplify, generalize, and take creative liberties.

For example, instead of paragraphs of prose explaining the complexities of AI versus artificial general intelligence—the kind that could truly think and reason—I let the characters unpack it in conversation. Paraphrased, it sounds like this:

“So Generative AI doesn’t really ‘think’ for itself?”
“Exactly. It stitches complex patterns together. As convincing as it is, it only simulates intelligence and creativity. True general intelligence—like you or me—actually understands and decides. Unlike AI, it has agency. And we’re not there yet. Thank God.”

After all, I wasn’t trying to teach computer science. I was exploring how big, abstract ideas can tear through ordinary lives.

Another common trap in writing about AI is chasing headlines. But advances in the field happen so quickly that today’s breakthroughs would probably feel passé before the book even hits the shelves. I found it better to treat tech news as inspiration rather than a blueprint—to let it spark “what if?” scenarios while making sure the plot still stands on its own.

For instance, when I first read about so-called “deathbots”—AI chatbots trained on a person’s digital footprint to simulate posthumous conversations—I was floored. The idea of interacting with a digital echo of a lost loved one, almost like having a Zoom call with the dead, was both fascinating and deeply unsettling. But rather than fixate on how the technology actually works, I found myself asking more personal questions: What if this tool unraveled someone’s life? What if it became the gateway to an even greater deception?

Another key lesson I learned is that while technology always marches—sometimes rockets—forward, the underlying themes remain unchanged. Deepfakes may one day give way to even more immersive deceptions, but the deeper questions (who controls the truth, who profits from lies) are perennial. Technology may provide the means, but it’s rarely the motive or the killer, though it does make for a convincing red herring.

Click to continue.

One other key takeaway: Technology can enhance a story’s atmosphere, much like setting does, but it can’t replace character or plot. Consider Jurassic Park: Those genetically re-engineered dinosaurs hooked us, but the story’s heart lay in its tension, stakes, and complex, believable characters. The same holds true for stories about AI. Without fully realized people, even the flashiest innovation falls flat.

In the end, what matters most is emotional resonance. A character willing to risk everything—their life, their identity, their integrity—will always be more memorable than the most sophisticated technology or gadgetry. That’s true even in the Bond franchise. What gave the AI real impact in my story was anchoring it in the characters’ emotions, struggles, and sometimes survival. That made it matter to me and, hopefully, to my readers.

As for where AI is headed, I’m as curious as I am cautious. The possibilities are thrilling, but the risks are just as real. And terrifying. I wanted to bring that tension into my story. To do that, I needed the right lens: a Cassandra, a protagonist who speaks the truth but isn’t believed by those around her. Through her voice, I could explore my own doubts, questions, and hopes.

What I’ve learned is this: When you root complex technology in genuine human stakes, it becomes not just plausible; it becomes meaningful. And that approach works far beyond AI. By focusing on the universal elements of story—trust, betrayal, identity, connection—you can write with confidence about any fast-changing field, even one outside your expertise.

Quick Tips for Writing Fiction Involving Emerging Tech

• Let dialogue do the heavy lifting. Use character conversations to explain complex ideas in natural, relatable ways.
• Don’t chase headlines. Let recent news inspire you, but don’t tether your plot to tech that might age out quickly.
• Focus on emotion. Highlight the personal consequences of the technology—where the stakes feel real.
• Keep it light but plausible. Do your research, but don’t overload the narrative with jargon.
• Lean on timeless themes. Whether your subject is AI, biotech, or law, the emotional core—trust, betrayal, fear, hope—will always resonate.

Check out Daniel Kalla’s The Deepest Fake here:

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The post How a Deepfake Thriller Taught Me to Write Realistic AI appeared first on Writer's Digest.

In this interview, Stuart discusses the grief at the center of her new literary novel, Ghost Fish, her advice for other writers, and more.

Name: Stuart Pennebaker
Literary agent: Christopher Combemale
Book title: Ghost Fish
Publisher: Little, Brown
Release date: August 5, 2025
Genre/category: Literary fiction
Elevator pitch: A young woman who’s recently moved to NYC finds herself haunted by her sister, who’s taken the form of a fish.

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What prompted you to write this book?

I never quite know how to answer this question. A lifetime of being utterly obsessed with books? A draft of a completely different novel that wasn’t quite working? A move to New York? A desire to write about loneliness that felt impossible to shake? Many boring (and not-boring) shifts at many different restaurants? A line from As I Lay Dying? A crush on a bartender that took me by surprise? Is that OK to say?

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

The novel was originally focused on the restaurant and Alison’s experience working there, but that changed when I realized why she had moved to the city in the first place, how desperately Alison needed to reckon with the grief of losing her family. I had the idea and finished the first draft relatively quickly, in the spring and summer of 2021, but had no idea how challenging I’d find the revision process. I am not a writer who outlines anything, so my first drafts are always very messy and in need of an immense amount of work. The cast of characters and central idea didn’t change so much but we’ve tried out many different sequences of events—beginnings are hard!—and I think the story now reflects more truly what I wanted to get across with Alison’s tendency to move inward and the people who are able to pull her into the realm of the living.

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

I learned that there is a difference between the story one scribbles in notebooks and on computer screens and the product of a book. Writing the first draft of this story was a surreal, heady, singular experience; the book took lots of revising and many very, very smart people to make. I’m so grateful for all the perfect angels that work in publishing: from my agent to my editor to the publicity and marketing team at Little, Brown, and Grace Han, the artist who designed the extraordinary cover. Ghost Fish is a group project; I was and continue to be delighted by how many amazing people were willing to be on its team.

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

I never in a million years could have guessed that my first book would be a ghost story. The sister-as-ghost-fish appeared out of what felt like nowhere, as ghosts tend to do.

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

I do think this story is a summer book. It’s slim, water-resistant, somewhat oceanic, and I hope it’s one people are able to consume in as few sittings as possible, ideally adjacent to a body of water. I recently devoured Deep Cuts by Holly Brickley in such a way that I was completely immersed and the world almost looked like a different color once I came up for air—I’d be ecstatic if I could create that feeling for another person.

My secret hope is that it makes anyone who feels alone less so, or at least less lonely in their aloneness.

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

Oh, I don’t know, I still sort of feel like I’m starting from scratch every time I sit down to write! I guess I wish someone had implored me not to overthink every little thing. You can’t make anything out of a draft that doesn’t exist. But now that I’m thinking about it, I’m sure someone did tell me this and I ignored it for the circus of neuroses inside of my head. Try to make a smart and generous writer friend or two, if you can. That certainly helps.

The post Stuart Pennebaker: On the Group Project of Publishing a Book appeared first on Writer's Digest.

I started my professional career 20 years ago on a group blog called Murderati. Group blogs were all the rage—we were pre-social media at that moment—and I was lucky enough to fall in with a group of writers who were exploring all facets of crime fiction. I was the tech-savvy one of the bunch, so I learned how to code and design the website in addition to being the Friday blogger. It was incredible fun, but also a tremendous amount of work.

(How Substack Helped Me Publish My Novel at 55.)

I grew up on Murderati. Late to the writing game (I started blogging in 2003 at age 34, three years before my first book was published), I knew very little about how the industry worked, and even less about what it took to have a career in writing. I learned the ropes experimenting with voice, analyzing writing trends, and otherwise baring my soul for the world every week. It taught me the discipline of meeting deadlines and how important it was to think about writing, even when I wasn’t creating. I ate up every ounce of advice and insight the other bloggers were sharing. I learned; we all did. Over the years, I published book after book, and yes, blog after blog.

33 books and 22 years later, I’ve learned a little bit about what it takes to have a career in publishing. I’d like to think I know how to write a compelling story. And I’ve never been able to break the habit of a weekly blog. Now it’s called Friday Reads, lives on Substack, and is an amalgamation of writing advice, book recommendations, and genial chit chat between me and my readers, many of whom, after all these years, are dear friends.

When Substack appeared on the scene, I jumped in with both feet. The current iteration of social media, with its brevity, incessant scrolling, and performative nature, can be challenging for me. Long-form writing has always been my forte. After all, I am a writer—not a producer, photographer, videographer, or actor—and Substack seemed like a great place to explore a deeper connection with my readers. I arrived a little earlier than most; I was writing on Medium and wasn’t happy with the changes that were in place, and I loved the simple, clean interface that Substack provided. I built the site with my most treasured essays, making it beautiful, functional, and easily readable, transferred my small but loyal weekly blog readership, and continued writing.

(An Honest Review of the Medium Publishing Platform.)

But Substack has a subscription model. And I’ve always wanted to write a book on writing. I’ve collected all the blogs I’ve ever written into a file that I’ve been trying to get off the ground for a long time, but it’s never worked. Publishing has changed so dramatically over the past 20-plus years that much of my older publishing and marketing advice is no longer relevant.

But the actual craft of book writing…well, that’s advice people always want to hear.

I was just starting to work on a new book—Last Seen. And it hit me—why not try live writing the process of writing the novel, from concept to publication day. Multiple birds with one stone. A – It would be great fun, B – It would give me a legitimate reason to put work behind a paywall, and C – I could focus on building my nonfiction book at the same time as writing the fictional one.

Click to continue.

I started by examining the lifecycle of a book. I wrote down all the steps it takes from concept to publication and realized that for me, a story moves through 22 distinct phases. I decided to document them all, allowing readers deep insight into my process and encouraging writers to follow along as they built their current work in progress. Admittedly, deconstructing my process is something I’ve been doing since I started blogging, but nothing like this. This was my book journal come to life, as intimate, realistic, and honest as I could possibly be.

I even taught myself how to outline so I could explore and express that part of the process for those of us who aren’t inveterate pantsers. I hate to admit it, but I actually think it helped the book in the long run (though I did go rogue at one point because the whole thing fell apart on me).

I’m now nearly to publication day, the end of this series, with only a few posts left. It has burgeoned into almost 75,000 words of craft advice, story development, progress reports, behind-the-scenes looks at the day-to-day writing life—what’s worked, what hasn’t, where I pulled my hair out, where I wept for joy—and everything in between. It’s a living, breathing memoir; a craft book; a year-long journal, all rolled into one. And, of course, I realized there are more than 22 steps; I’d missed a few along the way, so I also included a number of essays labeled Interim Steps, which are designed to encourage and illuminate. In these, I discuss ego, the psychology of writing, what to do when you get blocked, and how to develop new stories. They round out the book’s lifecycle.

Writing is hard. There’s no question about that. And the more you do, the longer you’re in this game, the harder it gets. There’s no secret handshake, no magic. It’s just diligent, steady work, grinding out the words, day by day. I thought it would be fun for people to see what it actually takes to write a novel. Judging by the response I’ve had, I was right.

Check out J.T. Ellison’s Last Seen here:

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The post Live-Writing My Thriller Novel appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(Find more Killer Writers conversations here.)

In this conversation, I chatted with Paul about the two questions writers ask most: How do you write a graphic novel, and how do you get it published?

“Paul, let’s start with the basics. A lot of people look at a graphic novel and think, ‘Isn’t this just a screenplay with pictures?’ But it’s not, is it?”

“No, it’s not. It may look like a storyboard at a glance, but a graphic novel is its own language. One of the biggest misconceptions is that it’s just a comic book with delusions of grandeur, or that it’s a screenplay in panels. The truth is, comics have their own grammar. It’s a medium, not a genre. That means it can contain fiction, nonfiction, memoir, fantasy, journalism, anything.”

“You’ve said that historically, many of the most compelling comics have come from creators who both write and draw their own work.”

“Exactly. There’s a long and rich tradition of cartoonists being auteurs: handling the script, the drawing, the pacing, the tone. Think of Garry Trudeau, Charles Schulz, or Art Spiegelman. When you do it all yourself, the work has a singular voice. But there’s also a long-standing industry model, especially with superhero comics, where the labor is divided: writer, penciler, inker, colorist, letterer. In that assembly-line model, everyone has a lane. So, if you’re a writer who doesn’t draw, you’re not disqualified, but you do need to understand how the parts work together.”

“Let’s talk mechanics. If I’m writing a script for a graphic novel, what should it actually look like?”

“I recommend that every page of your script corresponds to a finished page in the book. Page one of your script should contain the beats for page one of the final artwork. That helps everyone stay on the same page literally. You also need visual acuity. You’re not just writing dialogue. You’re directing. You should know what the characters look like, how they dress, what era they’re in. You have to describe each panel’s setting and action in vivid detail, even if you’re not the one drawing it. For example: ‘Panel 1: The General enters the saloon, pushing through swinging batwing doors, ten-gallon hat crooked, dust clinging to his coat. His boots echo on the wooden floor.’ That tells the artist what to draw and gives the mood. If you don’t include that, you’ll end up with a generic guy in a blazer walking into a sports bar.”

Check out Paul Karasik’s Paul Auster’s The New York Trilogy here:

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“That’s the opposite of screenwriting, where we’re trained not to direct on the page.”

“Exactly. In screenwriting, you’re not supposed to step on the director’s toes. In comics, you’re the director, unless you’re collaborating. Then you’re co-directing. Either way, your job is to get what’s in your head across clearly. Even if you don’t draw, you need to think like a visual storyteller.”

“So, let’s say I’ve written a script. I don’t draw. How do I find an illustrator?”

“First, you need to read. Lots. We’re living through a golden age of graphic novels. You can walk into any bookstore or library and see dozens of styles. Study the work that resembles your tone or subject matter. Is it cartoonish? Realistic? Fantasy-based? Memoir? Figure out the look you’re after, then find artists working in that lane. Then, go deeper. Who published that book? Who was the editor? Publishers are risk-averse by nature. They like what’s already worked. So, if you approach an editor who published a successful memoir-in-comics and your project is similar in tone or format, you have a stronger shot.”

“Should writers approach artists directly, or go through agents or publishers?”

“There are a few routes. You could try to partner with an artist up front. Many graphic novels are pitched that way, as a team. Or you could query a publisher with a script and a visual style reference and let them help pair you with an illustrator. Either way, you need to know what kind of book you’re making.”

“What should a writer include in a submission packet for an agent or editor?”

“Keep it simple and professional. Cover letter, synopsis, and sample pages. If you’re the artist too, send the first finished chapter and a clear outline of the rest of the book. If you’re just the writer, send a few sample script pages that demonstrate you understand the format, and include links or images of the kind of art you envision. You’re not locking yourself in, but you’re showing you’ve thought it through. Don’t overdo it. Agents and editors can usually tell within a few pages whether a project is viable. Sending them a 100-page proposal won’t help; it might hurt. Be clear, be professional, and don’t misspell anything. Seriously.”

“Is it better to query editors directly or to get an agent first?”

“Get an agent. A good agent is worth every penny. They already know who’s buying what. They can get your work to the right person faster than you can, and they’ll protect your rights. If your book gets foreign interest, film rights, or reprint deals, they’ll handle that too. You don’t want to spend your creative energy chasing contracts and payments. That’s their job.”

Click to continue.

“Any tips on how to find a literary agent who represents graphic novels?”

“Look at the acknowledgments section of graphic novels you admire. Authors often thank their agents. Or check Publishers Marketplace and see who’s repping whom. There are agents who specialize in graphic novels now, especially with the genre’s growth into schools, libraries, and mainstream bookstores.”

“When a writer and an artist collaborate, how is ownership usually split?”

“It varies, but in many cases, it’s a 50-50 partnership. That’s something to discuss up front, ideally with a contract. You’re co-creators. If one person walks, the book doesn’t get made. So respect and clarity matter.”

“And if a writer doesn’t have an artist in mind, should they still include visual references in their pitch?”

“Yes. You want to show the agent or editor that you understand how this story should feel. Include a scan or two from books that capture the tone or look you’re after. ‘This is the vibe I see for the visuals’ is often enough.”

“You’ve mentioned that your own books tend to find you.”

“That’s true. I don’t sit around trying to guess what the market wants. I do projects I’m compelled to do. Some are deeply personal, like The Ride Together, about growing up with my autistic brother. Others are conceptual, like How to Read Nancy, which is kind of a textbook in disguise. I follow the project, not the paycheck. It’s not a great business strategy. But I’ve never published a book I didn’t believe in.”

“Sounds like the auteur approach.”

“That’s one way to put it. Sometimes people get confused when I talk about my work, because it’s all over the map. But then I say, ‘I’ve been in The New Yorker,’ and suddenly it’s, ‘Oh! You must be legit.’ That name opens a lot of doors, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

“Any final advice for someone who wants to enter the world of graphic novels?”

“Yeah. Don’t do it unless you can’t not do it. This isn’t a get-rich field. It’s hard. You will face constant rejection. Every week, I send 10 to 12 cartoon submissions to The New Yorker. If I’m lucky, I’ll sell three or four a year. That’s it. Why do I keep sending them? Because I have to. It’s a compulsion. It’s who I am. So, if you’re doing this because you think it’s trendy or easy, don’t. But if you’re doing it because you have a story you have to tell, and this is the only way you can tell it, welcome to the club. We’re all figuring it out together.”

____________________________

Two-time Eisner Award winner, Paul Karasik, began his career as the Associate Editor of Art Spiegelman and Françoise Mouly’s RAW magazine. His work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, and The New Yorker. https://www.paulkarasikcomics.com/

The post A Conversation With Paul Karasik on The Graphic Truth: Writing, Pitching, and Publishing Graphic Novels (Killer Writers) appeared first on Writer's Digest.