That’s why I love using prompts. These are my favorite prompts for developing riveting characters and a compelling plot.

The question creates a void that fills up with meaning. You might be surprised by how much of that inner wisdom from the third eye comes into focus when you just ask. I realize I’ve brought this up already, but it’s such a big deal that there’s more to expand on.

You’re probably familiar with the role of a theme in a story. For our purposes, it’s the unspoken philosophical message that lurks behind everything you actually say.

But what fascinates me about the word “theme” is not its definition but its etymology. The Latin word thema is derived from tithenai, which is not a noun but a verb. In fact, it goes back to the verb of all verbs; it means “to make or to do.” So etymologically speaking, your theme isn’t a thing; it’s the creative process itself.

The meaning of life is a verb, not a noun.

That’s how I want you to think of your theme (meaning) throughout this book. Theme is a process, not a thing. It’s not a fact but more a doorway that leads into a long passageway of doors, tunnels, and windows. It can’t be explained; it must be explored.

Thus, for the purposes of this method of writing, you’re going to turn the theme inside out and state it as your big question. It’s the biggest question you’ve kept locked up inside, even if it’s unanswerable. (Especially if it’s unanswerable.) Usually, we have nowhere to put unanswerable questions, but now we do. They belong here.

I’m talking about questions like the following:

What are we to do with this one precious life? Why are people so irrational when it comes to sex, money, and food? Where does loneliness come from?

Or write down your own personal questions and work them out on the page:

Do I belong in this job? Will I ever fall in love again? Why do I keep hitting rock bottom?

Where Big Questions are concerned, the more mystifying the better. Every time you ask a question that you can’t answer with your current level of thinking, you have to be quieter and listen deeper to find the answer. Obviously, if you could respond to your Big Questions with a snap of your fingers, you wouldn’t be pushing yourself into the unknown. In fact, it’s better when you ask an unanswerable question because you won’t find any definitive answer. Instead, you start to pick up clues and metaphors.

Let’s take an example from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. You’re probably familiar with the plot. A stingy old man is visited by ghosts who represent his past, present, and future, and he’s forced to question the value of his life. Is it the money he so fiercely wants to protect or his connection to other human beings? That could be a thematic question, but it’s answerable and not particularly challenging. Anybody would say “human connections,” whether they believe it or not.

Try for something more baffling, something like this: “What is the real value of a person’s life?” It might seem broad, but it cuts to the heart of the problem and, at the same time, encompasses all the story has to say. Furthermore, it can only be answered through stories if you do the question justice. I could settle for vague abstractions to answer that question. For instance, I could say, “All you need is love,” but such answers are unsatisfying.

After you write down your Big Question it breaks down into all sorts of little ones. Little Questions serve a more specific purpose. They reach into the unknowable by imagining multiple possibilities, scenarios, and human circumstances. They don’t attempt to answer the Big Question; they simply explore. Let them loose on your story, or even the writing process itself. They sound like this: Who are the characters that will come out of my Big Question? What are they going to do? How will I get started? When will I find time to write? How can I put this emotion into words? What’s the right metaphor, image, or scene?

For the best results, never ask Little Questions that you don’t want the answers to. For instance, don’t ask, “Why isn’t this working?” Exploring that question would give you a laundry list of negativity. Instead, ask, “How can I make this work?” That question magnetizes more productive answers at conscious and subconscious levels. Whereas the Big Question is like an inside-out mantra that welcomes the story as a whole, the Little Questions are what get the job done.

Then it’s time to practice the craft of piercing emotions. People talk about what moves them. Let’s get fascinated with the psychology of your characters. Especially the mean ones.

A while ago, I wrote down this quote from a free webinar with Tony Robbins:

The strength of the hero is completely shaped by the quality of the villain.

This is one of the things we love most about fiction: not only is our protagonist navigating obstacles, but we, as readers, better understand them. We fall in love because of what they’re up against, the human complexity that forces them to grow. We’ve dealt with crazy people before. We’ve been the crazy people sometimes. It’s emotional.

However, when we start to really understand the psychology of the people they’re up against, something shifts. We become less reactive, more curious.

I think that’s why Game of Thrones was so popular. The diversity in the dark psychology of the villains, and the curiosity it generated. It reflected our own frustrations with the demonic behavior in our own world. It wasn’t just the drama and cliff-hangers; it was a front-row seat to the patterns of dark psychology. Usually, we’re just dealt the consequences and left wondering what happened.

When I work with clients, we roll up our sleeves and dig into the motivations of the antagonists. Often, that leads us into the dark triad.

Although it would be to “other” these dark traits, psychology isn’t binary—it’s a spectrum. In fiction, we need to understand our villains’ motivations and push them hard so we can see how the protagonists navigate difficult situations.

So let’s take a look at the dark triad: Machiavellianism, narcissism, and psychopathy.

Machiavellianism

Machiavellianism is usually seen as cold manipulation, indifference to ethics, and a calculated focus on self-interest. But at its core, it’s an inability to trust other people and the world at large. The belief is simple: if I don’t control the game, I’ll be controlled by it. Being vulnerable leads to loss, humiliation, or powerlessness. Everything becomes a competition or a zero-sum game. If you’ve ever had control issues or gotten caught up in strategy to the point where you lose sight of what really matters, you’ve touched upon this energy.

Machiavellian villains are popular in political dramas, crime fiction, psychological thrillers, and high-stakes fantasy. You’ll see it clearly in Game of Thrones with
Tywin Lannister and Petyr Baelish, who survive by always staying three moves ahead.

More examples: Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars, Severus Snape in Harry Potter, President Snow in The Hunger Games, Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada.

Psychopathy

From the outside, psychopathy seems impulsive, senseless, and cruel. The traits of psychopathy characterize the most insane villains like Hannibal Lecter. No guilt, no fear, no internal resistance. Something essential seems to be missing in a psychopath that inhibits most people from causing harm. Yet, psychology is a spectrum.

Often, psychopathy traces back to early environments shaped by chaos or neglect, where emotional disconnection became adaptive. Over time, that disconnection hardens into numbness. Other people feel distant. Abstract. What’s left is numbness, and often a need for extreme stimulation in order to feel anything at all.

Psychopathic villains appear in Sci-Fi (crazy, almost robotic behavior), psychological thrillers, horror, crime, and dark fantasy. An example from Game of Thrones is Ramsay Bolton, whose cruelty shows no restraint.

More Examples: The Joker from DC Comics, Peter Bateman from American Psycho, Claire Underwood in House of Cards.

Narcissism

Narcissism is a common reference these days. I probably don’t have to convince anyone that these traits happen on a spectrum. It’s often described as pride, selfishness and a lack of empathy. The paradox is that it comes from fragility and insecurity. There’s an addictive need for narcissistic supply and external validation. Without that reflection, the fear isn’t just of being flawed, but of being nothing at all, worthless, insignificant, and invisible. Just beyond their grandiosity sits an endless void that they can’t afford to fall into.

Narcissistic villains are common in romance, fantasy, and power-driven and melodramas where identity, status, and perception are at stake. In Game of Thrones, you see this clearly in Cersei Lannister, whose need for power and recognition is deeply tied to her sense of self. She was a fascinating villain.

More examples: Jay Gatsby, Tom Buchanan, and Daisy Buchanan in The Great Gatsby. Loki in The Marvel Universe. Agamemnon in The Iliad. Rebecca de Winter in Rebecca.

Once we understand the patterns behind the dark triad in their extremes, it’s almost liberating. We no longer have to be pushed and pulled around by them, unconsciously. Instead, we can recognize them and give them distance. And in that space, there’s freedom. Not because the darkness disappears, but because we’re no longer caught inside it. That’s the beautiful cathartic quality of fiction. We understand life and transcend it at the same time.

The challenge is that once we get into the day-to-day work of writing, that sense of connection with your story can fade.

That is, unless you have a system to get you back into the flow.

I like to use prompts. Prompts that are directly connected to your work-in-progress work so well as flow triggers because they remove the two biggest blocks to momentum: uncertainty and self-judgment.

Sometimes the grind of writing is simply just decision fatigue. You’re worn out from figuring out where you’re at, what you’re doing, and whether it’s good enough.

I’ve designed these prompts to get you back to the emotional center that drives the story. Answer these questions, and you’ll feel reconnected to the meaning that drives the story.

1. What are your character’s values? (What do they represent in the book?)

2. What does your character want more than anything?

3. What are they most afraid of?

4. What is the worst thing that could happen to them? (Push this further than feels comfortable.)

5. What will they learn or understand after going through that worst-case scenario?

6. How does this change them?

Once you’ve responded to the questions, turn that material into concrete scenes. Use the insights to challenge your characters by creating obstacles, dialogues, and new situations.

Finally, a gentle reminder: there’s no use banging your head against a wall. Your brain is a physical organ, and it needs care to do its best work. If you’re tired or depleted, no amount of writing hacks will carry you forward. Start with rest, water, and a little patience with yourself.

Part of the reason is identity. Before you become successful at writing and publishing books, it’s uncomfortable to put on the identity of a writer.

I hear this question all the time: Who am I to write a book?

Therefore, if you’re struggling to finish your book, it’s not about a lack of talent or discipline. It doesn’t have anything to do with your chances at a successful future.

It’s really about one problem with very deep psychological roots: uncertainty and the illusion of control.

Before I go deeper into the details, I would love to personalize your path. If you take a minute to answer the questions, I will send you free calendar pages to help you prioritize your writing routine and reach your goals.

Short Sweet Survey: ​Your Personal Path to Success as a Writer

In The Other Side of Change, cognitive scientist Maya Shankar talks about how our brains overestimate how bad things are going to be if they don’t work out, and we also overestimate how good things are going to be if they do work out.

This very natural neurological habit keeps us on a constant emotional rollercoaster.

Let me give you an example.

We think…

Rejection = I’m a loser who never should have tried.

Publishing a successful book = I will wake up rich and famous every day, and anyone who underestimated me will have to beg for forgiveness.

When the reality is…

Rejection hurts, and it can knock you for a bit, but the reality is that it’s the only way to build strength and confidence. 100% of successful authors have to build strength and confidence over time, whether through rejection, disappointment, or criticism.

Publishing a successful book is an exciting, positive shift in your life. It’s a delicious accomplishment to think about as you sip your coffee first thing in the morning. However, there will still be work to do and problems to solve even after you’re an author.

The real issue is navigating uncertainty. But when it comes to writing a book, that’s where all the magic happens.

“As a change is happening to us, it is also creating lasting change within us.” - Maya Shankar

We need to lean into the change to make it happen. By leaning into the process, we find everything we need. But that’s still scary.

Here’s the psychological trick.

I call it strategic procrastination. It means giving your future self one hour, a few times a week, before your current responsibilities take over.

I invented this strategy for myself when I was a high-school English teacher, and I wanted to be an author and entrepreneur. I would get swamped with tests and papers that I needed to correct and get back to students, and I was also a toddler mom. I had a lot on my plate.

But I knew that unless I strategically procrastinated my current job for the job I dreamt about, my life would never change. Taking my attention away from my current responsibilities felt risky, but I had to see what could happen. Then I learned how to solve all the problems that came up.

Now every day I wake up loving my work. It was hard to even imagine that before.

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” - Maya Angelou

Sure, the butterfly analogy may be overused, but it’s really helpful when you get into the guts of it. Not everybody knows that inside a chrysalis, enzymes break down the eyes, limbs, and organs of the caterpillar in a way that looks like decomposition. It’s like a zombie caterpillar for a little while. But unlike decomposition, there’s a simultaneous restructuring. The nutrients of the old body are recycled and restructured into what it’s becoming.

It’s the same thing with strategic procrastination. It’s uncomfortable, and you may look and act a little like a zombie sometimes, but it’s necessary. Leaning into the change is the only way to make it happen.

Here’s a journaling exercise that can be an unparalleled wake-up call if you feel your way into it. First, imagine yourself moving forward with your book. We’re going to do some time travel down two separate roads, and here are some questions that will guide us:

• What will your life look like in a week if you start writing? Where will you be working? What will you be dreaming about? How will you feel?

• In a month, what do you want your progress to look like? Why? How will that feel?

• How will your life look in a year or so when you’re finished with this book? How will that feel?

• A decade from now, what could your life become if you stay committed to this work? How will that feel?

Now switch channels and consider these questions:

• What will you be doing in a week instead of writing? What stands in your way? Why?

• A month from now, what does your life look like if you decide to give up?

• In a year, how does it feel not to be an author? Why does it matter to you?

Articulating your emotions on the topic, not just now but well into the future, can help you set priorities that will serve you in the long run. After you’ve written your answers, save them so you can return to them as needed.

That’s the baffling conundrum we all come up against when we sit down in front of a draft. A professional editor always has the readers in mind, asking, “How can we make this a better experience for them?”

The inner critic is focused on the writer; she’s worried and self-conscious. Developing your editing skills can fend off that inner critic by taking your attention away from yourself and onto the communication at hand.

Here are key traits to focus on as an editor:

1. Bold, unique statements that catch attention.

2. Clarity. Why are we reading? In fiction, where and when are essential too.

3. Fear and desire. What grips the reader’s emotions?

The beauty of saving the editing process for after the messy draft is that it gives you the freedom to be too crazy, too sentimental, too dramatic, too bitchy, too abstract, or too metaphorical in the first draft. Sometimes your best editor is yourself two weeks later.

I love my inner editor. She makes cuts and moves things around in an extremely productive way. I’m no longer drowning in a miasma of words. My inner critic, on the other hand, contributes to the miasma. She doesn’t know what she wants; she just knows this isn’t good enough and probably never will be.

On the other hand, so much of perfectionism is about self-preservation. The curse of perfectionism is that it robs you of creativity, adventure, and connection. It keeps you trapped inside your comfort zone and stops you from taking risks. You’re hemmed in by the limits of what you can already execute flawlessly. There’s no room to test or explore.

Given all of the opportunities available in self-publishing, there’s never been a bigger detriment to success than perfectionism. The authors who are succeeding are able to put themselves out there, experiment, and learn from experience.

By avoiding risk, we stay safe, and by getting things exactly right, we avoid pain. Some creative risks will move us into unpredictable territory, but they preserve the part of your voice that can’t be manufactured. In the age of AI, that’s pure gold.

It works if you’re drafting cleanly from start to finish, but most books aren’t written that way. They’re reworked, reshaped, and rebuilt chapter by chapter. When you’re cutting, rearranging, and rewriting, word count doesn’t measure progress. It measures activity. And those are not the same thing. That’s why you can hit your goals and still feel lost, unsure if you’re actually getting anywhere.

Often, our vision is clearer in the beginning, so you can use your sense of direction when you’re midway through, down in the weeds. The best way to keep moving is to set measurable goals and build momentum. I find that printing my outline and marking my progress helps me get a handle on the big picture.

To lift myself out of creative quagmires, I’ve developed a tracking system I love. Even though chapters may be moved, cut, or added, my outline becomes an adjustable list that lets me measure my progress. I track each chapter’s status with a system of letters I scribble into the margins of my printed outline. It looks like this:

Z = Zero: Nothing but the idea.

N = Notes: I’ve collected some phrases, sentences, or paragraphs.

D = Draft: Notes are fleshed out and put in order.

M = Middle: The middle stages of the draft as I continue to polish. It can hang out here for a while.

A = Almost: I added this one for my own gratification because the middle stage takes so long.

F = Finished: I’ve done my dirt, and it’s time to send it to the real editor.

It goes to show you that every chapter and every book has multiple stages. Nobody just pounds it out. It takes brainstorming, drafting, and long walks to ponder your next move.

Instead of asking you to “fix” your work, it’s better get curious and explorative. These prompts are designed to provoke a visceral response so you stop overthinking. They will bring you back to places in your mental theater that you’d all but forgotten. Writing becomes surprising and exciting again.

If you’re writing fiction, you can ask these questions of any character. Their answers naturally generate conflict, reversals, and plot movement because they’re rooted in universal human emotions. Choose one or two that draw you in:

1. What decisions have had the biggest impact on your life?

2. What are you proud of but rarely talk about?

3. What’s an object from your childhood that you’ve always kept? Why?

4. What’s one thing you knew as a child that you shouldn’t have known?

5. What are your values, and what memories are they rooted in?

6. What’s a point of no return that marked the beginning of a big change?

7. When have you asked yourself, “How did I get here?”

8. When have you felt powerless?

9. What was the most difficult goal you’ve ever achieved?

10. Who has inspired you in a way that changed your life?

11. Who disappointed you in a way that changed your life?

12. Who was a person that you cut out of your life and why?

13. What place holds a version of yourself that no longer exists?

14. What’s one place that you never want to forget?

15. When have you experienced real danger?

16. What have you tried to protect at any cost?

17. What’s a long-held truth that you’ve never said aloud?

When you’re free writing answers, don’t try to sound too smart or polished. Let the flow of emotion shut down your inner critic. Get specific and immerse yourself in the memories. This will make your prose rich and textured. Hopefully, you’ll find some time this weekend to have fun again.

The short answer to this question is the hook. So, the next obvious question is what makes a great hook?

A great hook doesn’t favor one genre over another. It works because it gives the reader an immediate sense of why this story matters. It’s like an emotional handshake with a firm grip. The hook doesn’t need to explain the book. Instead, it compresses meaning and gives readers an immediate glimpse of the central tension. Here’s a basic formula to get you started:

A great hook = Protagonist + Stakes + Open Loop

When it comes to fiction, on of the most important factors to look for is high stakes. The stakes give readers an idea of what the protagonist is up against or what they have to lose. A lot of bestselling novels deal with life or death stakes, either directly of or indirectly. An open loop is an element in the hook that makes the reader curious to know more. Getting to the heart of your book in a single sentence is no easy task, so I’ve provided plenty of examples to get you inspired.

Examples of Great Hooks in Multiple Genres:

Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton - Scientists clone dinosaur DNA in order to build a theme park where families can visit the fascinating creatures in total safety, until something goes wrong.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins - In the nation of Panem, every year one boy and one girl from each of the 12 districts are forced to participate in a reality TV show where children fight to the death.

The Lucky One by Nicholas Sparks - U.S. Marine Sergeant Logan Thibault returns from his third tour of duty in Iraq, with the one thing he credits with for keeping him alive: a photo of a woman he doesn’t know but longs to meet.

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown - Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon gets a phone call in the dead of the night to learn that the curator of the Louvre has been murdered inside the museum with his corpse covered in baffling symbols.

Beloved by Toni Morrison - Ohio, 1873: Sethe’s new home is haunted by the ghost of her baby, who died nameless and whose tombstone is engraved with a single word: Beloved.

The Astonishing Color of After by Emily X.R. Pan - Leigh Chen Sanders is absolutely certain about one thing: When her mother died by suicide, she turned into a bird.

The Invisible Life of Addie Laurue - France, 1714: In a moment of desperation, a young woman makes a Faustian bargain to live forever - and is cursed to be forgotten by everyone she meets.

These examples feel intimidating, but they don’t need to be. High-concept hooks aren’t about brilliance; they’re about clarity. Once you understand what your story is truly about, you’re ready to give it a try.

If you want to learn more about writing novels that find their audience, check out my interview with thriller novelist Miranda Rijks: Write Novels That Sell 10K Copies.

Connecting with readers isn’t about chasing trends or guessing what will sell. It’s about understanding the emotional core of your story and learning how to express it clearly. When you do that, the right readers recognize themselves in what you’ve written.

And it’s not how books are built.

When you give yourself permission to play with an idea before jumping into the actual writing, the entire process becomes smoother and faster.

Mind-mapping apps are so much fun. Instead of feeling stuck and tearing your hair out, you can play. They allow you to be free and creative. You can branch out, rearrange, zoom out, zoom in, and follow unexpected connections.

Mind Maps work beautifully for:

• Shaping a book idea before outlining

• Developing characters or character arcs

• Breaking down chapters

• Exploring themes and concepts

I created a YouTube video where I show you how:

Mind Mapping Apps Are the Fastest Way to Develop Book Ideas

There’s never been a better time to build your career as an author. There are more paths to success than ever before, and far fewer gatekeepers deciding who gets to write. There are also more free tools to help you along the way, if you take the work seriously. You don’t need everything figured out. You just need a place to start playing with your ideas and letting them grow.

Catharsis has been one of my favorite words. In a story, the emotions arising from someone else’s experience can possess you and bring you to tears.

We cry through tragic love stories during a hard breakup. We read about bootstrapping innovators when we’re going through a career transition. We watch Star Wars and other imperial dystopias when we want to understand how to survive in a world gone mad.

We feel something and yet witness at the same time. It’s a combination of subjectivity and objectivity that helps us understand what we’re going through. When we’re drawn into a story, we feel what’s being expressed, and yet we can step outside the story and see the beauty of it at the same time.

It’s not just escapism, it’s a pressure release valve.

We need stories for exactly this purpose. We need to watch them, read them, and write them. So if you’re in the writing phase of this spectrum, don’t quit. If you can cathart authentic emotion onto the page, it will allow your readers to cathart when they experience what you’ve created.

One of the best habits you can develop is to express yourself rather than freeze up during stressful times. Here are some writing prompts to get you going:

Character prompts for oppressive situations:

1. What are your characters not allowed to do, think, or feel?

2. What are the stakes or consequences if they do think or feel those things?

3. What are their secrets? What are they planning?

Character prompts for the reluctant hero:

1. Write a diary entry from someone who is a part of a resistance movement not because of their belief in the ideology but because they’re tired, broke, lonely, or trying to protect someone they love.

2. What’s one small act of defiance they might engage in as a first step?

3. What big climactic event might this lead to?

Character prompts for dystopian love stories:

1. What does this society gain by keeping people emotionally isolated? How does the environment quash love?

2. Why are the protagonists attracted to one another, and what does their love represent?

3. Why are the lovers in danger?

Obviously, escapism for the delight of pure escapism is always on the table as well. In that case, I have fun plot prompts for any and all fictional situations. Grab those here. They can help you sketch out a scene or chapter.

If you’ve been carrying heavy emotions, write your way through them. You don’t have to come up with a tidy answer; just tell it like it is. Honesty. When you write these stories, you’re not escaping reality; you’re translating it into something we can survive. And helps us all feel less alone.

That’s my metaphor, and I’m sticking to it.

This is how publishing used to work. You write the whole book and hunt someone down to edit it, and then write the whole book all over again, after being demoralized by the changes required to make it great.

But there’s a better way.

Some people call it plotting (as opposed to pantsing). I think of it as understanding the architecture and the meaning of a successfully executed book. Understanding how the tropes, the twists, and all the plot points work together allows you to craft your message so readers experience it fully.

You have to start somewhere, and I love helping people zoom out and see the big picture before they get stuck in the weeds. In fact, even if you’re not starting and you get stuck halfway through your manuscript, pulling out this plot table and working on the structure as a whole is one of the most productive things you can do.

I created a chart that helps you summarize your plot with simplicity and elegance. It also pushes you to make the major plot points as engaging as possible.

Free Worksheet: The Rapid Novel Blueprint Plot Table

When I’m helping a client to prepare a new idea, I’ll often map out the stories of movies in the same genre on this plot table. I just scribble in the major turns while I’m watching. It’s fun and it keeps me engaged.

Here’s an example using The Titanic. I map it out in the video below.

YouTube: Plot Table Example: Titanic (movie)

Planning can be simple. There’s no need for overwhelm. It can help you clarify your manuscript in a way that makes your plot stronger, and your book easier to write.

I have some ideas…

Let’s start with clarity. This is my favorite New Year’s Ritual for my writing goals. All you need is a single sheet of notebook paper, a pen, and 10 minutes. Here’s what you do...

YouTube: 10 Minutes to 10x the Success of Your Writing Goals in 2026​

But we also need clarity on what to write. There are a lot of different plot models for your novel, but as we’re looking out at the expanse of a new year, let’s keep it simple and familiar. I have some prompts based on The Hero’s Journey that will get your story going. No overwhelm, no confusion.

YouTube: 6 Keys from The Hero’s Journey that Clarify Your Plot

If you want to prioritize your book and create a consistent writing routine throughout the year. You know what helps me? Renewing my goals with a clean slate every month. To do that, I created this:

Free Workbook: Calendar Pages for Your Writing Goals

New Year’s is always such a hopeful season for our writing dreams. These are some of my favorite practices that have kept me moving forward. I hope they help you as much as they’ve helped me!

If you’re looking for a clear, gentle structure to reflect on your year, these questions might be a good place to start:

1. Where am I at right now? (How am I feeling? What’s important to me?)

2. What accomplishments am I most proud of this year?

3. What lessons have I learned? (How do I feel about them?)

4. What do I want to accomplish in the next 6 months, 1 year, and 3 years? (Why is it exciting?)

2026 is right around the corner, and after some reflection and relaxation, I love diving deep and getting specific about New Year’s Writing Goals. I created a whole workbook around it. I’ll have that ready to go on December 26th.

In the meantime, whenever the holidays get too hectic, grab a cup of something warm, a notebook, and a little space to breathe. These questions are great company.

Let me give you the quick answer upfront. Two words: habit and flow. There are many things we get done every day because we have a habit of doing them. We’re hardly conscious that we’re doing them. This has to do with flow. The self-consciousness we had when we’re first learning a new task falls away as a result of flow, and it takes a fraction of the energy it did before. Driving a car is a great example. At first, it requires a dozen small tasks to be remembered, but with practice, flow takes over, and you hardly realize everything that goes into it.

Anyone who has been successful has developed a regular writing habit. It’s that simple. If you haven’t been able to make your writing habit work in the past, these steps will show you how.

1. Create a Trigger

Establishing a new habit requires a strategic approach, and a crucial element in this process is creating a trigger. The habit trigger is an easy cue that leads you into your routine. I write first thing in the morning, so my trigger is a cup of coffee. Your trigger could be tied to a specific time of day, a location, or an existing habit. You might pick up your pen after you brush your teeth, or put on a quick YouTube video that gets you motivated. The goal is to choose a cue that naturally occurs in your daily life and can act as a prompt for writing.

To enhance the effectiveness of your habit trigger, make it obvious and attention-grabbing. Consider incorporating visual cues into your environment or setting reminders on your phone to ensure the trigger stands out. Starting small with manageable goals is better than overworking. Stress inhibits habit formation.

2. Make it Easy

When we say something is “habit-forming,” it means it doesn’t take a ton of willpower to do it repeatedly. Quite the opposite. It has an addictive quality to it. And yet, when we want to form a new habit, especially a new writing habit, we often set extremely high expectations for ourselves. This makes it hard to regularly come back to.

The writing prompts we talked about in the first section reduce friction. One thing I think gets in the way of finishing a book is unrealistic expectations. It’s just a rough draft. We’re sketching out ideas to build momentum and then refining them over time. Don’t underestimate the necessity of planning your book. It makes everything easier.

Consistent progress is essential. Break down your goals into achievable milestones to prevent overwhelm and frustration. Focusing on consistency rather than perfection allows for a more forgiving mindset, recognizing that occasional setbacks are a natural part of the process.

3. Relish the Rewards

When you get the hang of reducing friction, soon enough strong writing sessions will be something you crave. You’ll crave the rewards of the growth. Even when life is hectic, you carve out the time for writing. You’ll long for the neurochemical cocktail of creative flow. No matter how much you do, be proud. Most people don’t get around to writing your books. Reward yourself for sticking to it!

Habits form when you crave something at a visceral level: time to yourself where you can dream and sift through ideas and sketch out scenes. Yummmm. This is why it’s so important not to force yourself to churn words, but rather play your way into productivity. Make sure you’re creating an experience you’ll continue to crave.

It’s probably not the one you’re thinking of. Ha!

I’ll give you a hint: It hasn’t gone out of print in over a century and it’s had hundreds (if not thousands) of film and theater adaptations that run every single year.

Time’s up!

The book I consider to be the most successful self-published book in modern history is A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

Here’s the story behind the story: By the 1840s, Dickens had been extremely successful with books such as Oliver Twist and Nicolas Nickleby, and after that, everybody wanted a piece of him. He signed multiple contracts with multiple publishers and kept getting more offers that made the deals he’d already signed look paltry. He couldn’t stop saying yes, and he couldn’t catch up with all the contracts he’d already signed. He ended up working outrageous hours and started producing flops.

By the fall of 1843 Dickens was exhausted and broke. In addition to all the old publishing contracts, he’d yessed his way into a new family home with a lot of expensive imported accoutrements, not to mention a fifth (unanticipated) pregnancy. For all his literary prowess, he hadn’t mastered the word “no.” He needed to resurrect himself.

Luckily, an idea haunted him that he couldn’t shake: a Christmas ghost story. He believed in the book so fervently that he partnered with the up-and-coming illustrator Jim Leech and paid for the first print run himself. Self-publishing in the 1800s was more complicated than it is today, and he went all out. He also invested in a leather binding and gilt-edged pages.

His first edition—six thousand copies—sold out. At that point, one of his publishers picked up the book and issued three more sold-out printings the following year, outside of the Christmas season. This was a real turning point in Dickens’s career, after which he went on to produce David Copperfield, A Tale of Two Cities, and Great Expectations. You can check out the story for yourself in the 2017 film The Man Who Invented Christmas and the 2008 biography of the same title.

The reason I love this holiday tale (behind the holiday tale) is that it underscores one of the most essential truths of modern publishing. You choose yourself. You are the greatest advocate for your own work. No amount of notoriety can replace this maxim. Charles Dickens was no spring chicken when he self-published his own book—he was at the midpoint in his career. Thank God he didn’t give up when he didn’t receive external support. He still had some his best work ahead of him.

Now, everything is so much easier. Not only can you connect with your audience in a way that was never possible before, but you can grow your audience simply by spreading your message. It’s a beautiful time to go after your dreams. Don’t be afraid to be the hero of your own publishing story and the author of your own life.