Last post, I talked to non-writers who may want to befriend, bamboozle, or perhaps bed a writer. Now I am speaking to the rest of my little group: the gremlins who chew on our enclosures if we can’t find a good plot.

Yes, we have etiquette rules as well. Being good and kind is important, but sometimes it gets lost along the way when we’re so excited about what we’re doing. Let’s discuss.

Readers think in page numbers, not word counts.

Here’s a little thing that I, myself, am pretty bad at remembering, but it does matter.

Writers know how long a given word count is in terms of time to read or produce. We’re often curious about how long our favorite books are by this specific metric, and we track our progress via word count.

Readers don’t think this way because they don’t have a clear concept of what word counts really mean. They think in page counts, because that is how they experience books.

The problem is that page counts are not actually that reliable of a metric, and they aren’t always trackable for writers. We know how long the page count is on the manuscript itself, but that’s based on whatever program we use and whatever the font is. It doesn’t track one-for-one with the page count in the finished project, especially because books have different sizes.

I can’t tell people how many pages a book is until I hit publish or bother to count the pages in the KDP file. Given that I’ve published multiple books around the same page length, I can guesstimate to an extent, but this isn’t always helpful either.

One valuable way I’ve learned to get around this is another metric readers can understand: reading time. If I say, “this book takes around four hours to read,” that’s understandable, even if it’s not as comprehensible to readers as page count.

Keep this in mind when you’re discussing your projects outside of writer circles. While you’re working on the project, you can say whatever the Microsoft Word/Google Docs page count is and remind readers that isn’t necessarily the same page count that will be in the finished project. Still, it gives your listeners an idea of how far along you are, given that they’ve likely worked with Microsoft documents before.

Remember that being a writer doesn’t make you better or smarter than anyone else.

I said what I said. Writing well is a skill, just like any other skill. Yes, it is a useful skill, and it does require significant effort and intellect, but it is not an arbiter of general intelligence or human value.

There are many wonderful, brilliant, exceptional, and highly accomplished individuals I know who cannot write well. As I mentioned in my other post, many well-spoken people completely fall apart when you ask them to write something because it’s a different skill.

This is not to mention the many other forms of intelligence that are out there. In fact, I value my emotional intelligence far more than my eloquence because it has more practical value.

Understanding how to influence people, how to frame conversations, how to read body language, and how to deescalate situations serves me very well in every facet of life – and it also enhances my writing. But just knowing how to string words together did not imbue me with that power; I had to cultivate it through therapy and practice.

Your writing skill is just a tiny example of how humans can be smart and interesting. There is no hierarchy of useful skills because any skill can be valuable in the right context.

Get off your high horse, honey. Don’t want you to fall.

Do not dominate conversations with monologues about your books.

A significant proportion of the human population is absolutely shit at talking to others for one simple reason: they don’t really care about what anyone else says. They are waiting impatiently for their chance to chime in and take over with what they wanted to talk about.

Writers, of course, have a ready-made Domination Topic that they can muse for hours on without even feeling the time slip by. This is such an interesting and important subject to you, so why wouldn’t it be for your listeners?

Well, it’s not. I have trouble listening to other writers yammer about their projects because I have no idea what they are talking about most of the time.

The thing is that your book feels alive to you because you are busy making it. You understand all the facets, the plot, the characters, etc, and can refer back to them at any time.

Your listeners are coming in cold, and it’s almost impossible to fully explain the plot of a book to someone without taking multiple hours – and jumping in between points when you remember something else important. I often struggle to explain the plots of books I have recently read, even though I was playing close attention, because summarizing such a large chunk of material is quite difficult in real time.

People will care about your books when you complete them and they can experience it for themselves. Listening to someone summarize their book is like following a vacation monologue: boring as hell.

Am I saying that you should not ever talk about your books? Of course not. But I encourage you to keep it vague and simple, especially during the active writing process (when you should not really be talking about it at all lest you lose motivation).

Always remember that conversations should be a two way street: you give a little, they give a little. Consider how many sentences you are saying, just as you would in dialogue, and keep it to four sentences or less.

Respect your contractors.

The number one most disarming statement you can make to any professional, from any field, is this:

“You’re the expert here. I trust your judgment.”

Every single time I have used this phrase, I have gotten drastically better work – often at a discount.

But I’m not saying it to manipulate anyone; I really do trust their judgment. I have learned that as a layperson, I do not have the skills or experience to make good decisions. This was revealed through working with my exceptional cover artist, Katarina.

Now, I adore Katarina. She does amazing work and is a true gem of a human being. However, there is a distinct difference between how these three covers came out, and it comes down to my own attitude.

She’s not the problem here. I am.

Don’t get me wrong; they are all good. But the cover for Absent All Light is miles away better, in my opinion.

The reason isn’t that Katarina magically got better at her job between What Is Cannot Be Unwritten and Absent All Light. She has always been an exceptional artist.

The reason is that for the last cover, I stepped back and stopped being controlling.

For Funeral of Hopes and What Is Cannot Be Unwritten, I gave her mockups and a lot of references. I thought this was helpful; I really was just trying to guide her so that she didn’t put in a bunch of work for something I did not like. In reality, it probably annoyed the shit out of her because she couldn’t put her own spin on it.

She was constrained by what I told her to do, so the work didn’t come out with as much heart. It feels stilted and static, whereas the cover for Absent All Light feels dynamic, visceral, and intense.

That is my fault, and I will always defend Katarina against anyone who complains about the cover art. But you can genuinely see how much better she felt about the work when I went, “I don’t really know what I want. Here are some references, here’s the general plot. I trust your judgment and know you’ll do a great job.”

When the series is over, I will likely ask Katarina to redo these two covers, just to refresh them and better align with the later parts of the series. That’s not a slam on her work; in fact, it’s because I trust her so much. I know she can do even better work if I stop white-knuckling the creative process.

And then she gets paid more. That’s always good, right?

So if you are working with an artist, an editor, a beta reader, whoever: let them do their job. You hired them for a reason. You saw their reviews. You decided they were worth your money. Trust them instead of controlling them.

People who like you as a person do not necessarily like your books.

Your writing doesn’t even have to be bad for your friends or family to just … not like them. They may not like your genre, they may not like your writing style, they may not be big readers. And that’s okay.

My mom does not like my books. At all. She has told me this to my face, multiple times. She isn’t a fan of literary fantasy and doesn’t like the gross themes in my books. The sex scenes make her feel icky. Her favorite fiction books are popcorn romance or cozy mysteries, and she gravitates toward academic nonfiction in her field.

There is nothing I can do to change this. Her opinion on the fantasy genre was established before I was even born, and my work isn’t going to rewire her brain to suddenly like the kind of work I do.

Does it hurt a little bit? Yes. It does.

Is it going to change the way I write? Hell no, it won’t. No one’s opinion would ever make me abandon my vision or contort myself for their approval – not even my own mother’s.

I have very strong intrinsic motivation, which is why I can excel in self-publishing. I am also able to separate someone liking me as a person and someone liking my work.

Many of my friends have never read anything I have written: not my blog, not my newsletter, not even my free novella. And that is fine, because that’s not the reason we are friends. I surround myself with people who have shared interests but very different lifestyles because I like to learn how others think, and I find that associating with those too like me causes an echo chamber.

In fact, most of my close friends are STEM people whose eyes glaze over when I talk about writing, or whose reading preferences lean toward highly graphic gay smut. Whatever, I don’t judge.

As I have discussed in multiple posts before, separating yourself from your writing is one of the best things you can do for your self-esteem. Writing is something you do – and, for someone like me, a lifestyle – but it has no bearing on your value as a human being. Nor does it determine whether people will like you as a friend.

You can be a trash writer but a great human, or a trash human and a great writer. Many such cases of the latter. And, frankly, I’d prioritize being a great human over being a great writer any day.

Don’t get into pissing matches with other authors.

For some reason, and for some people, being an author seems to come preloaded with a big ego. I speculated on the reasons for this in my post about why some authors are mean, but the outcome is the same: everyone feels bad.

You see this all the time in Writing World; it’s practically a tradition at this point. See Mark Twain’s decades-long hate-fest for Jane Austin and you will completely understand. We continued that storied history today through petty genre roasts, bitching about trends, review-bombing other authors, or dick-measuring contests about sales metrics and awards.

While there is definitely bad writing in the world, everything becomes subjective at a certain skill level. You’re not winning any fans by being a little bitch to everyone around you, and you’re not convincing anyone of your authority.

You just look like a rude idiot. Who wants to read something by you, then?

There are books I hate. There are authors I despise. There are trends that make me want to rip my eyes out and swing them around like maces.

But I don’t say that directly to anyone’s face. In fact, I rarely leave reviews anymore. If I review a book, it’s through my newsletter, which has no direct contact with the author.

I recognize the immense value of reviews, but I also have to protect my own brand. Not every author is very sane or rational when it comes to getting an unpleasant review, as I have learned firsthand. Sharing a public opinion on a bad book is not worth the potential damage it could cause.

So, if you want to be conscientious, do not air these aggressive opinions in front of other authors. Don’t fight with them in comments, don’t leave nasty reviews, don’t publicly bash a fellow indie or small-potato author. Not only is it not polite, but it could have far deeper repercussions than you recognize.

Once you get to a certain level of infamy, people will dislike you. Let them.

Even authors with a small following are going to get detractors. I am apparently one of the rudest authors alive, if you trust this Goodreads list of (primarily female) authors.

Hmm. Wonder why most of them are women. Ah, well; not my problem. Kind of flattering to be included in a list of much more well-known authors, if you think about it. I’d love to know precisely what I did to piss this reader off, though. Maybe telling them to write a million words?

Anyway, part of etiquette is ignoring the haters. This is a natural consequence of putting yourself out there for thousands of people to see. Don’t get into pissing matches with authors or readers.

I do not respond to reviewers on places like Goodreads or Amazon. I don’t defend my work on social media, though I like to write breakdowns of why I made certain choices, like my fridging post. If someone doesn’t like my books, I shrug and move on.

And I don’t allow comments on my blog because this is my curated space. I’m not going to fight for my life in the comments section of a website I pay to host.

There are eight billion people on the planet. You can’t please all of them, nor should you attempt to. That’s how you get mealy-mouthed, bland writing so aghast about bad press that it says nothing.

Good writing is contentious, spicy, debatable. Good authors are not universally beloved. They – and their work – have sharp points that grind against some readers’ psyches while turning others into devotees.

This is okay – admirable, even. But it will backfire if you’re so desperate for all-encompassing praise that you get defensive, or if you are terrified of rejection.

So if someone hates you or calls you a rude author, don’t bother responding. It’s not worth the reputation loss.

You don’t have to answer questions you don’t want to.

I know, this sounds like such no-brainer advice, but you’d be surprised at how many people just … forget that a question isn’t a contract.

Someone can ask you whatever they want about your books. They could ask about themes, when you plan to publish, why you did a certain thing, whether there’s a sex scene. And you can choose not to answer it.

I am very protective of my writing process because that is what keeps me productive. When I am working on something, it only exists to me. Thankfully, most people in my life respect this boundary, or perhaps just don’t care enough to ask, which is a blessing in disguise.

You don’t have to be rude, and a good person won’t be offended by you declining to answer. Simply say you like to keep your work process private or that you’re still workshopping things.

Well, there we go. Of course, most of this applies to almost any field, but it’s still crucial to keep us writers humble and polite. Not only because this helps sell books, but it also ensures we can, you know, have friends and not make everyone hate us.

So go forth and influence people. Tip your freelancers, respect your readers, and, please … shut up about your books.