Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach

[Ep 224] At the close of a brilliant blue-sky summer-warm April afternoon, a heavy thunderstorm swept across my state, pelting us with hail and hurtling branches across yards. We stared in awe at Zeus-explosive lightning strikes that flashed and boomed, backlighting trees that swayed like storm-tossed ship masts, nearly snapping. After a series of mighty cracks, the power went out and stayed out for eight hours. Cell service, too. During the strangest season of a lifetime, when staying informed and connected relies on a functioning Internet, we were completely cut off from the world for...we didn’t know how long. The storm felt even more ominous in total darkness. Wind gusts smacked limbs against the roof in haunting thumps and scrapes, like zombies clawing the shingles. We lit candles and sat in our family room, hoping the sliding glass door wouldn’t blow in and spew shards of glass across the room. We settled in but couldn’t rest. On high alert, we remained poised to head to the basement if we heard tornado sirens go off. My husband grabbed a headlamp he uses when camping and handed it to my son, who needed to finish studying for a pre-calc test. I remembered some blizzards of my youth, when the power would go out on the farm for a few days—once for an entire week—and we’d use kerosene lamps for light and the wood stove for heat. I’d feel a sense of awe and fear and excitement that, for a stretch of time—and who knew for how long—life suspended in an awkward space of uncertainty where we were forced to rethink the days and invent solutions to complete basic tasks. Eventually the power would return to the farm. We’d flip on lights and the TV. Country roads would be cleared and the school bus would show up at my driveway. Back to normal. I thought of that blizzard while staring out our sliding glass door. After about an hour, the fiercest elements of the storm subsided, though rain continued to pour down, overflowing gutters clogged by debris. In the quiet, dark house, we felt our way along the walls to our bedrooms, listening for each other’s voices. My husband set an alarm to wake up every few hours throughout the night to empty the brim-full sump pump, which wasn’t able to do its job without electricity. Early the next morning, our power returned. We flipped on lights and reset our clocks and the WiFi router. The sump pump turned on and emptied the tanks. Back to normal. Except...it’s not normal. This isn’t a blizzard, and the bus didn’t show up for students in our neighborhood. My son took his pre-calc test at the kitchen table and uploaded it to a website for his math instructor to grade. Back to our abnormal normal, I guess, or whatever we’ve created within this shelter-at-home pandemic reality, its own silent storm. I started six or seven different ideas for this post, but they all fell flat; they seemed inappropriate in one way or another. Hopeful, encouraging input seemed like it would make light of readers who are fearful or frustrated. So I held off, wanting to respect that not everyone is ready to map out a social media strategy or draft a short story. Fun ideas celebrating the creativity of quarantined humans across the planet seemed to make light of the intensity and suffering so many are facing. I had collected links to amusing and ambitious projects but stopped, unable to share. I knew friends who were sick or caring for the sick, and it seemed tone deaf to send that out. But the other extreme also seemed like a strange choice; highlighting suffering seemed too heavy and melancholy for readers who might be seeking an emotional escape. Sometimes I want to just laugh a little; sometimes I want to avoid the weight of the news. Suggestions for being productive? That felt, I don’t know...exhausting...too hard to attempt or sustain. I watch all these people hopping on Instagram Live offering their recommendations to be a voice of leadership duri...

[Ep 224] At the close of a brilliant blue-sky summer-warm April afternoon, a heavy thunderstorm swept across my state, pelting us with hail and hurtling branches across yards. We stared in awe at Zeus-explosive lightning strikes that flashed and boomed, backlighting trees that swayed like storm-tossed ship masts, nearly snapping. After a series of mighty cracks, the power went out and stayed out for eight hours. Cell service, too. During the strangest season of a lifetime, when staying informed and connected relies on a functioning Internet, we were completely cut off from the world for...we didn’t know how long. The storm felt even more ominous in total darkness. Wind gusts smacked limbs against the roof in haunting thumps and scrapes, like zombies clawing the shingles. We lit candles and sat in our family room, hoping the sliding glass door wouldn’t blow in and spew shards of glass across the room. We settled in but couldn’t rest. On high alert, we remained poised to head to the basement if we heard tornado sirens go off. My husband grabbed a headlamp he uses when camping and handed it to my son, who needed to finish studying for a pre-calc test. I remembered some blizzards of my youth, when the power would go out on the farm for a few days—once for an entire week—and we’d use kerosene lamps for light and the wood stove for heat. I’d feel a sense of awe and fear and excitement that, for a stretch of time—and who knew for how long—life suspended in an awkward space of uncertainty where we were forced to rethink the days and invent solutions to complete basic tasks. Eventually the power would return to the farm. We’d flip on lights and the TV. Country roads would be cleared and the school bus would show up at my driveway. Back to normal. I thought of that blizzard while staring out our sliding glass door. After about an hour, the fiercest elements of the storm subsided, though rain continued to pour down, overflowing gutters clogged by debris. In the quiet, dark house, we felt our way along the walls to our bedrooms, listening for each other’s voices. My husband set an alarm to wake up every few hours throughout the night to empty the brim-full sump pump, which wasn’t able to do its job without electricity. Early the next morning, our power returned. We flipped on lights and reset our clocks and the WiFi router. The sump pump turned on and emptied the tanks. Back to normal. Except...it’s not normal. This isn’t a blizzard, and the bus didn’t show up for students in our neighborhood. My son took his pre-calc test at the kitchen table and uploaded it to a website for his math instructor to grade. Back to our abnormal normal, I guess, or whatever we’ve created within this shelter-at-home pandemic reality, its own silent storm. I started six or seven different ideas for this post, but they all fell flat; they seemed inappropriate in one way or another. Hopeful, encouraging input seemed like it would make light of readers who are fearful or frustrated. So I held off, wanting to respect that not everyone is ready to map out a social media strategy or draft a short story. Fun ideas celebrating the creativity of quarantined humans across the planet seemed to make light of the intensity and suffering so many are facing. I had collected links to amusing and ambitious projects but stopped, unable to share. I knew friends who were sick or caring for the sick, and it seemed tone deaf to send that out. But the other extreme also seemed like a strange choice; highlighting suffering seemed too heavy and melancholy for readers who might be seeking an emotional escape. Sometimes I want to just laugh a little; sometimes I want to avoid the weight of the news. Suggestions for being productive? That felt, I don’t know...exhausting...too hard to attempt or sustain. I watch all these people hopping on Instagram Live offering their recommendations to be a voice of leadership duri...

[Ep 223] As I write this, a pandemic is spreading across the planet. I surely hope you and those you love are spared any sickness during this worldwide crisis. I’m stating this in part to document my day in the midst of these extraordinary circumstances. This is something we can do as writers: Document the days. Keep a Journal If You Can Record your story as it’s unfolding; capture and preserve—in real time, in your voice—what will become source material for future historians or for your own memoir. Dr. Shane Landrum wrote, in a series of tweets: Advice from a historian in the Boston area: Start keeping a journal today, ideally a hand written one if that’s within your ability. Write about what you’re seeing in the news, how yr friends are responding, what is closed in yr neighborhood or city or state or country. Save it...Sometimes you know you’re living through an event that will be in the history books very large...personal stories don’t make it into the history books unless people are writing them down in the first place. Keep a journal if you can.1 His Twitter thread prompted people to suggest typing up and printing out their observations and others to recommend indelible ink on archival paper. But you can find other, creative ways to document the days. Audio or Video Diaries If you’re a writer who is also a first responder, health care worker, or supply chain contributor delivering food and goods to stores—or stocking and supplying the stores—you may not have time to write. On a break, record a one- to three-minute audio or video diary on your phone. Tell us about the fatigue, the tasks, the challenges, the people. Share it, or save it. But document the days. If you’re not in some of those critical roles—and I’m sure I missed entire groups of people—you are likely at home tending to your work, perhaps educating your child or overseeing her work. You, too, can use a video or audio diary to document the days. Share Some Now, Save Some for Later Some of it, you’ll save for later: for a future project, for family, for historians. Some of it, though, you can share right now, to offer hope and accurately report on your world. Publish on social media, or through your blog, or through a podcast like this. Publish and distribute your most urgent messages however and wherever you can most easily get the word out to the people who need it most. Use Dr. Landrum’s hashtag, if you like, to communally chronicle your experiences with others across the globe: #pandemicjournal2 However you choose to document your days, I urge you to do this. Writers Document the Details We are in a unique position, as writers, to know how to weave sensory detail into our observations that will recreate it for readers later; we understand that the story keeps going and if we document it today, we’ll grab texture and tension and we can scene-build, and if we don’t, we will have forgotten when the world moves on from toilet paper hoarding to new challenges, as it already has. It’s easy to forget the messaging and actions of early stages when the next one happens a mere hours later. Our role as writers in these uncertain times is to be among those who capture the stories. Tell Your Story You tell yours from your corner of the world, and I’ll tell mine. One day, they’ll fit together to help people understand how one thing led to another in the high-level reporting alongside the everyday events: the confusion, the indecision; the toilet paper hoarding and the jokes that ensued; the frantic trips to Walmart and Target and grocery stores, not knowing how to prepare for such a time as this. We’ve had questions: will we go on lockdown or will life go on as usual? We will be able to share how that changed day by day, moment by moment, question by question. Document the Questions The questions, so many questions… O Me! O Life! Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

[Ep 223] As I write this, a pandemic is spreading across the planet. I surely hope you and those you love are spared any sickness during this worldwide crisis. I’m stating this in part to document my day in the midst of these extraordinary circumstances. This is something we can do as writers: Document the days. Keep a Journal If You Can Record your story as it’s unfolding; capture and preserve—in real time, in your voice—what will become source material for future historians or for your own memoir. Dr. Shane Landrum wrote, in a series of tweets: Advice from a historian in the Boston area: Start keeping a journal today, ideally a hand written one if that’s within your ability. Write about what you’re seeing in the news, how yr friends are responding, what is closed in yr neighborhood or city or state or country. Save it...Sometimes you know you’re living through an event that will be in the history books very large...personal stories don’t make it into the history books unless people are writing them down in the first place. Keep a journal if you can.1 His Twitter thread prompted people to suggest typing up and printing out their observations and others to recommend indelible ink on archival paper. But you can find other, creative ways to document the days. Audio or Video Diaries If you’re a writer who is also a first responder, health care worker, or supply chain contributor delivering food and goods to stores—or stocking and supplying the stores—you may not have time to write. On a break, record a one- to three-minute audio or video diary on your phone. Tell us about the fatigue, the tasks, the challenges, the people. Share it, or save it. But document the days. If you’re not in some of those critical roles—and I’m sure I missed entire groups of people—you are likely at home tending to your work, perhaps educating your child or overseeing her work. You, too, can use a video or audio diary to document the days. Share Some Now, Save Some for Later Some of it, you’ll save for later: for a future project, for family, for historians. Some of it, though, you can share right now, to offer hope and accurately report on your world. Publish on social media, or through your blog, or through a podcast like this. Publish and distribute your most urgent messages however and wherever you can most easily get the word out to the people who need it most. Use Dr. Landrum’s hashtag, if you like, to communally chronicle your experiences with others across the globe: #pandemicjournal2 However you choose to document your days, I urge you to do this. Writers Document the Details We are in a unique position, as writers, to know how to weave sensory detail into our observations that will recreate it for readers later; we understand that the story keeps going and if we document it today, we’ll grab texture and tension and we can scene-build, and if we don’t, we will have forgotten when the world moves on from toilet paper hoarding to new challenges, as it already has. It’s easy to forget the messaging and actions of early stages when the next one happens a mere hours later. Our role as writers in these uncertain times is to be among those who capture the stories. Tell Your Story You tell yours from your corner of the world, and I’ll tell mine. One day, they’ll fit together to help people understand how one thing led to another in the high-level reporting alongside the everyday events: the confusion, the indecision; the toilet paper hoarding and the jokes that ensued; the frantic trips to Walmart and Target and grocery stores, not knowing how to prepare for such a time as this. We’ve had questions: will we go on lockdown or will life go on as usual? We will be able to share how that changed day by day, moment by moment, question by question. Document the Questions The questions, so many questions… O Me! O Life! Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

[Ep 222] My most effective year teaching high school composition was the one I began with poetry. From day one, I introduced literary devices through poems, inviting students to spot metaphor and simile, hyperbole and imagery, rhythm, rhyme, and repetition. With a focus on a single poem, we could zero in on just a few observations and they could use those as inspiration, even models, for their assignments. Later, armed with a range of literary tools and techniques, the students confidently integrated those into their prose. Their essays—even their research papers—showed they better understood how to lasso language to express their ideas. What’s more, they also readily spotted themes and ideas in the longer works we studied. They had more to say about the pieces we read. It’s as if poetry opened their minds to new ways of seeing the world, and in some cases, poets opened their minds to new ways of seeing themselves: students seemed to borrow words and phrases to express feelings and frustrations, disappointments and dreams. Poetry's Profound Truths I believe poetry opened them up to become more thoughtful, creative writers—perhaps even more thoughtful, creative human beings. And I believe it can open us up to become more thoughtful, creative writers and human beings. When The New York Times news desk gathers for their morning meeting, they start by reading a poem. Marc Lacey explains that this new ritual is “aimed at inspiring us and boosting our creativity before we embark on another long day of editing the news.”1 He says this new practice is leaving members more thoughtful, more contemplative. “I can tell by the faraway look in my colleagues’ eyes as we hear profound truths communicated sparsely and majestically.”2 His story sent me to a shelf in my living room in search of an anthology I might use to reboot this practice in my own creative life. Yes, despite the fruitful results from that high school composition class—and despite being steeped in poetry back when I served on the editorial team at Tweetspeak Poetry—I have fallen out of the habit of reading a poem each day. Wordsworth's "The Rainbow' I plucked The Oxford Book of English Verse from the shelf, a collection I’d picked up at a used library sale. It flopped open to a Wordsworth poem: The Rainbow My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die ! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.3 A few of Wordsworth’s choices are easily spotted in this short poem: the deliberate repetition of “So” in a series of three. Unintentional repetition can distract a reader, but writers who use repetition with intent can assist the reader’s understanding. Here, Wordsworth uses it to indicate the beginning, middle, and end of his life: “So was it...So is it...So be it.” Of course, we see rhyming throughout: behold/old, began/man, be/piety. While rhyming is the norm in poetry, it reminds me to listen for and play with its potential in prose; where might I test subtle sounds to add music to my words, even blog posts and podcasts? A poet of the Romantic era, Wordsworth responded to nature as teacher, as guide, as inspiration. He expresses a desire to never lose his childlike sense of wonder. Creativity, Curiosity, Wonder His poem—and his mindset—has potential to awaken our creativity alongside curiosity and wonder. He leaves me hopeful that we need not feel trapped and deadened by disheartening news. Our hearts can still leap. As a wordsmith, editor Marc Lacey knows poetry’s potential to inspire our minds to use language in imaginative and inventive ways. But he also seems to grasp the need for us to see the world differently and, perhaps, to believe our hearts can still leap. The Magic of Poetry Morrigan McCarthy, a photo editor and former poetry major,

[Ep 222] My most effective year teaching high school composition was the one I began with poetry. From day one, I introduced literary devices through poems, inviting students to spot metaphor and simile, hyperbole and imagery, rhythm, rhyme, and repetition. With a focus on a single poem, we could zero in on just a few observations and they could use those as inspiration, even models, for their assignments. Later, armed with a range of literary tools and techniques, the students confidently integrated those into their prose. Their essays—even their research papers—showed they better understood how to lasso language to express their ideas. What’s more, they also readily spotted themes and ideas in the longer works we studied. They had more to say about the pieces we read. It’s as if poetry opened their minds to new ways of seeing the world, and in some cases, poets opened their minds to new ways of seeing themselves: students seemed to borrow words and phrases to express feelings and frustrations, disappointments and dreams. Poetry's Profound Truths I believe poetry opened them up to become more thoughtful, creative writers—perhaps even more thoughtful, creative human beings. And I believe it can open us up to become more thoughtful, creative writers and human beings. When The New York Times news desk gathers for their morning meeting, they start by reading a poem. Marc Lacey explains that this new ritual is “aimed at inspiring us and boosting our creativity before we embark on another long day of editing the news.”1 He says this new practice is leaving members more thoughtful, more contemplative. “I can tell by the faraway look in my colleagues’ eyes as we hear profound truths communicated sparsely and majestically.”2 His story sent me to a shelf in my living room in search of an anthology I might use to reboot this practice in my own creative life. Yes, despite the fruitful results from that high school composition class—and despite being steeped in poetry back when I served on the editorial team at Tweetspeak Poetry—I have fallen out of the habit of reading a poem each day. Wordsworth's "The Rainbow' I plucked The Oxford Book of English Verse from the shelf, a collection I’d picked up at a used library sale. It flopped open to a Wordsworth poem: The Rainbow My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die ! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.3 A few of Wordsworth’s choices are easily spotted in this short poem: the deliberate repetition of “So” in a series of three. Unintentional repetition can distract a reader, but writers who use repetition with intent can assist the reader’s understanding. Here, Wordsworth uses it to indicate the beginning, middle, and end of his life: “So was it...So is it...So be it.” Of course, we see rhyming throughout: behold/old, began/man, be/piety. While rhyming is the norm in poetry, it reminds me to listen for and play with its potential in prose; where might I test subtle sounds to add music to my words, even blog posts and podcasts? A poet of the Romantic era, Wordsworth responded to nature as teacher, as guide, as inspiration. He expresses a desire to never lose his childlike sense of wonder. Creativity, Curiosity, Wonder His poem—and his mindset—has potential to awaken our creativity alongside curiosity and wonder. He leaves me hopeful that we need not feel trapped and deadened by disheartening news. Our hearts can still leap. As a wordsmith, editor Marc Lacey knows poetry’s potential to inspire our minds to use language in imaginative and inventive ways. But he also seems to grasp the need for us to see the world differently and, perhaps, to believe our hearts can still leap. The Magic of Poetry Morrigan McCarthy, a photo editor and former poetry major,

[Ep 221] If you’re trying to land an agent and eventually a contract with a publisher, you can’t get around it: you need to craft a compelling proposal to pitch your nonfiction book. This may be the first time you’ve heard about this and you’re reeling from the thought that you can’t just send your manuscript directly to a publisher or agent. I’ll fill you in. Let’s look at what a book proposal is and why you need one to pursue traditional publishing. A Book Proposal Is a Business Document Simply put: a book proposal is a business document used industry-wide to persuade publishers to partner with you to publish your book. It’s a business document, yes. It’s a document that industry gatekeepers like agents, editors, and publishers use to discuss your concept, consider your author brand and platform, study your sample chapters, and make their final decision whether or not to partner with you on this project. As you can see, there’s a lot riding on this one document. And business documents can feel foreign to creative writers who are unaccustomed to the business world and business documents. That’s why it’s nice to have some input and guidance. Some people think they can pitch their idea to an agent without a proposal, and they think the agent will love the idea and proceed to sign this writer and work with the writer to craft the proposal. But that’s not quite how it works. Because even an agent will expect you to produce for them a proposal that they’ll use to decide whether or not to sign you. Let’s say you queried an agent or you met an agent, they ask for your proposal, you send it, and they like what they see. They chat with you and decide to offer to represent you. They use the proposal to make their decision whether or not to move forward. At that point, they’ll help you refine—and in some cases revise—your original proposal. At the very least, they’ll supply you with their agency’s template and have you drop your proposal content into their format with the brand at the top. And they’ll use that version of the proposal to shop it around. But the process starts with a query or conversation with an agent in hopes that they request your proposal. So you need to craft the best proposal possible for your project even to land an agent and certainly to land a publishing contract. The Proposal Forces Clarity But don’t view the book proposal as a burden. And don’t be overwhelmed at the thought of writing one. Instead, see it as a chance to gain clarity and build confidence as you craft this document, because the process of developing a book proposal forces you to think through all aspects of your book and yourself as its author. You’ll identify your target audience, determine the purpose and scope of this project, and generate a plan for how to help market the book. The book proposal will serve you well. What's in the Proposal Itself The document itself is super basic in the way it looks. I advise clients to keep the design simple, with minimal flourishes and no fancy fonts—in fact, I recommend using universally recognized fonts so the agent or acquisitions editor who opens the file can view it without needing to access a custom font. Inside the document, the proposal covers a variety of elements that provide information about you and the book, like: an overview of the project a marketing plan comps (competitive or comparative titles) a Table of Contents (or TOC) platform stats an annotated Table of Contents (chapter summaries) sample chapters The template I use with clients includes these elements and others that are generally expected no matter who you’re querying. I’ve built it based on my own experience as an author crafting my own proposals, but I’ve added changes to reflect industry shifts over the years. I adapted and modified my template to help a writer think through all aspects of the book,

[Ep 221] If you’re trying to land an agent and eventually a contract with a publisher, you can’t get around it: you need to craft a compelling proposal to pitch your nonfiction book. This may be the first time you’ve heard about this and you’re reeling from the thought that you can’t just send your manuscript directly to a publisher or agent. I’ll fill you in. Let’s look at what a book proposal is and why you need one to pursue traditional publishing. A Book Proposal Is a Business Document Simply put: a book proposal is a business document used industry-wide to persuade publishers to partner with you to publish your book. It’s a business document, yes. It’s a document that industry gatekeepers like agents, editors, and publishers use to discuss your concept, consider your author brand and platform, study your sample chapters, and make their final decision whether or not to partner with you on this project. As you can see, there’s a lot riding on this one document. And business documents can feel foreign to creative writers who are unaccustomed to the business world and business documents. That’s why it’s nice to have some input and guidance. Some people think they can pitch their idea to an agent without a proposal, and they think the agent will love the idea and proceed to sign this writer and work with the writer to craft the proposal. But that’s not quite how it works. Because even an agent will expect you to produce for them a proposal that they’ll use to decide whether or not to sign you. Let’s say you queried an agent or you met an agent, they ask for your proposal, you send it, and they like what they see. They chat with you and decide to offer to represent you. They use the proposal to make their decision whether or not to move forward. At that point, they’ll help you refine—and in some cases revise—your original proposal. At the very least, they’ll supply you with their agency’s template and have you drop your proposal content into their format with the brand at the top. And they’ll use that version of the proposal to shop it around. But the process starts with a query or conversation with an agent in hopes that they request your proposal. So you need to craft the best proposal possible for your project even to land an agent and certainly to land a publishing contract. The Proposal Forces Clarity But don’t view the book proposal as a burden. And don’t be overwhelmed at the thought of writing one. Instead, see it as a chance to gain clarity and build confidence as you craft this document, because the process of developing a book proposal forces you to think through all aspects of your book and yourself as its author. You’ll identify your target audience, determine the purpose and scope of this project, and generate a plan for how to help market the book. The book proposal will serve you well. What's in the Proposal Itself The document itself is super basic in the way it looks. I advise clients to keep the design simple, with minimal flourishes and no fancy fonts—in fact, I recommend using universally recognized fonts so the agent or acquisitions editor who opens the file can view it without needing to access a custom font. Inside the document, the proposal covers a variety of elements that provide information about you and the book, like: an overview of the project a marketing plan comps (competitive or comparative titles) a Table of Contents (or TOC) platform stats an annotated Table of Contents (chapter summaries) sample chapters The template I use with clients includes these elements and others that are generally expected no matter who you’re querying. I’ve built it based on my own experience as an author crafting my own proposals, but I’ve added changes to reflect industry shifts over the years. I adapted and modified my template to help a writer think through all aspects of the book,

[Ep 220] A writer reached out to me with news that she's writing a nonfiction book and wants to be published. “What’s the process?” she asked. I'm happy to explain. I'll cover the main steps to becoming a traditionally published author without going into minute detail. This will give you—and her—a broad overview. Pre-Process Stage: Educate Yourself Before taking the first step toward publishing, start learning everything possible about the industry. Educate yourself. Learn industry terminology, roles, documents, processes, and proposals. Learn about self-publishing, as well, in case that ends up being an even better approach for you and your book. To begin understanding how the publishing world works: Watch conference videos on YouTube Attend writing conferences Read books and articles Listen to relevant podcasts Subscribe to website feeds to study trends and announcements Follow gatekeepers and decision-makers on social media The more you know about the book publishing process, people, jargon, and expectations, the more confident you’ll be heading into each conversation at each stage of the journey. As you gain knowledge, you’ll discover opportunities, challenges and frustrations, and hopefully you'll make informed decisions about the best publishers, agents, and marketing approaches for you and your project. The Long Road to Publishing Let me warn you, though: publishing is not for the faint of heart. They say from the moment of signing a book contract to the day of the book’s release is on average two years. That doesn’t include all the steps leading up to the signing of that contract, so it can stretch out even longer. You need patience, vision, grit, perseverance. The act of defining a book concept takes time. To sign with an agent and land a contract can take an even longer time. To then develop the book proposal and eventually write every word of a manuscript will require a tremendous output of time, effort, creativity, and courage. A writer may want to give up at several points. So take it in stages, because getting a book published is a marathon, not a sprint. How to Get a Nonfiction Book Published Now, what are the main steps to traditional publishing? Here’s a high-level look at how it works. Step 1: Build a Platform Learn what a platform is (see “Educate Yourself” above) and why it’s important. Then learn all the ways you can build one. Begin to step into spaces where you can connect with target readers, bringing them content related to the general topic of your book concept. During this step, readers meet you and connect you to that topic. Along the way, you solidify your author brand and build a platform you can use to encourage, inform, and entertain people. And one day you'll be able to tell them about the book that’s in the works. Building a platform takes time—the sooner you begin, the better, because publishers will not consider authors who don't have a platform. Continue to build it as you move into Step 2, so your platform continues to deepen and expand. Bringing a substantial platform to the conversation with a book publisher makes you a more desirable author for them to sign. Step 2: Create a Book Proposal You'll need a book proposal. Publishers use these business documents to decide if they want to partner with the author to publish the proposed book. A typical proposal includes many elements such as your platform stats, the book’s table of contents, chapter summaries, and three polished sample chapters. Because the proposal includes platform information, you’ll want to tackle Step 1 as soon as possible and continue with those platform-building efforts throughout the process. Publishers want to see that you connect with readers and can get the word out to them. You may want to have the sample chapters edited (or at least proofread) to be sure they go out in the best shape possible when an agent or editor ask...

[Ep 220] A writer reached out to me with news that she's writing a nonfiction book and wants to be published. “What’s the process?” she asked. I'm happy to explain. I'll cover the main steps to becoming a traditionally published author without going into minute detail. This will give you—and her—a broad overview. Pre-Process Stage: Educate Yourself Before taking the first step toward publishing, start learning everything possible about the industry. Educate yourself. Learn industry terminology, roles, documents, processes, and proposals. Learn about self-publishing, as well, in case that ends up being an even better approach for you and your book. To begin understanding how the publishing world works: Watch conference videos on YouTube Attend writing conferences Read books and articles Listen to relevant podcasts Subscribe to website feeds to study trends and announcements Follow gatekeepers and decision-makers on social media The more you know about the book publishing process, people, jargon, and expectations, the more confident you’ll be heading into each conversation at each stage of the journey. As you gain knowledge, you’ll discover opportunities, challenges and frustrations, and hopefully you'll make informed decisions about the best publishers, agents, and marketing approaches for you and your project. The Long Road to Publishing Let me warn you, though: publishing is not for the faint of heart. They say from the moment of signing a book contract to the day of the book’s release is on average two years. That doesn’t include all the steps leading up to the signing of that contract, so it can stretch out even longer. You need patience, vision, grit, perseverance. The act of defining a book concept takes time. To sign with an agent and land a contract can take an even longer time. To then develop the book proposal and eventually write every word of a manuscript will require a tremendous output of time, effort, creativity, and courage. A writer may want to give up at several points. So take it in stages, because getting a book published is a marathon, not a sprint. How to Get a Nonfiction Book Published Now, what are the main steps to traditional publishing? Here’s a high-level look at how it works. Step 1: Build a Platform Learn what a platform is (see “Educate Yourself” above) and why it’s important. Then learn all the ways you can build one. Begin to step into spaces where you can connect with target readers, bringing them content related to the general topic of your book concept. During this step, readers meet you and connect you to that topic. Along the way, you solidify your author brand and build a platform you can use to encourage, inform, and entertain people. And one day you'll be able to tell them about the book that’s in the works. Building a platform takes time—the sooner you begin, the better, because publishers will not consider authors who don't have a platform. Continue to build it as you move into Step 2, so your platform continues to deepen and expand. Bringing a substantial platform to the conversation with a book publisher makes you a more desirable author for them to sign. Step 2: Create a Book Proposal You'll need a book proposal. Publishers use these business documents to decide if they want to partner with the author to publish the proposed book. A typical proposal includes many elements such as your platform stats, the book’s table of contents, chapter summaries, and three polished sample chapters. Because the proposal includes platform information, you’ll want to tackle Step 1 as soon as possible and continue with those platform-building efforts throughout the process. Publishers want to see that you connect with readers and can get the word out to them. You may want to have the sample chapters edited (or at least proofread) to be sure they go out in the best shape possible when an agent or editor ask...