Tag: Books

What I learned about writing – Don’t Be Obsessed, Be Obsessedly Curious

Don’t Be Obsessed, Be Obsessedly Curious: The Balanced Art of Writing a Compelling Play

Playwriting is a thrilling dance between creativity and discipline. It’s a craft that demands passion, yet many aspiring playwrights believe they must be obsessively consumed by their work to succeed. But here’s the truth: you don’t need to be obsessive to write a great play. Instead, what you need is curiosity, patience, and a toolkit of strategies to bring your vision to life. Let’s explore why obsession isn’t the answer—and how to write a play that lingers in the hearts of audiences long after the curtain falls.

The Myth of the “Obsessed Artist”

Pop culture loves the image of the tormented artist locked in a studio for months, surviving on coffee and sheer willpower. But this myth is a red herring. While dedication is key, obsession—borderline compulsion, neglecting self-care, or losing balance—can lead to burnout, poor writing, and even health issues.

Consider this: Great plays are born from sustainable creativity, not self-destruction. Playwrights like Lynn Nottage and David Mamet thrived by setting boundaries, sleeping, and nourishing their minds with diverse experiences. The goal isn’t to “die for your art” but to live for it in a way that fuels your creativity without stealing your joy.

5 Strategies to Write a Compelling Play (Without Going Crazy)

1. Start with a Core Question, Not a Plot

Every great play is driven by an emotional or philosophical “what if?” Ask yourself:

  • What story haunts me?
  • What truth am I desperate to explore?
    Your answer might be as simple as, “What if a single mother lost her job and had to choose between her kids and a dream?” That question becomes the heartbeat of your play. Build your plot and characters to answer it—or, better yet, to challenge it.

2. Craft Nuanced Characters, Not Stereotypes

Audiences don’t want perfect heroes or villains. They want characters who feel human: flawed, vulnerable, and complicated.

  • Give each character a hidden motive. (Example: A grieving father might lash out, but his rage masks guilt.)
  • Avoid monologues that “explain” everything—let their actions and subtext do the work.

3. Fuel the Fire with Conflict and Stakes

Conflict isn’t just a punchy line—it’s the engine of drama. Ask:

  • What do my characters want?
  • What’s stopping them?
  • What do they stand to lose?

Think of Glengarry Glen Ross by David Mamet: The fight for a car sales job isn’t just about money—it’s about dignity. Raise the stakes by making the cost of failure personal.

4. Dialogue That Bites: Less Is More

Play dialogue should echo real speech—but with purpose.

  • Trim the filler: Delete “ums” and “you know.”
  • Subtext is your friend: Let characters say one thing but mean another. (This is how Shakespeare’s Ophelia truly speaks.)
  • Conflict in soundbites: Short, sharp lines pack more punch than long speeches.

Need help? Try the “Rewrite as a Screenplay” method: If your lines would feel at home on a Zoom call, they’re not dramatic enough.

5. Edit Ruthlessly and Collaborate Relentlessly

First drafts are drafts for a reason. Let them simmer, then revise with a surgeon’s precision.

  • Cut scenes that don’t serve the core question.
  • Work with others: Read your play aloud to beta readers, actors, or writers’ groups. Fresh ears catch what you miss.

Remember: Even August Wilson revised his plays 20+ times. Perfection isn’t a starting point—it’s a destination.

The Secret Sauce: Curiosity Over Compulsion

The key to writing a compelling play isn’t marathon sessions fueled by espresso but consistency and exploration. Take walks, read poetry, or attend stranger’s conversations. Inspiration isn’t just about being a “crazy artist”—it’s about living with open eyes and ears.

And when you feel stuck? Pace yourself. A daily 30-minute writing habit can build a masterpiece faster than a week-long caffeine-fueled sprint followed by burnout.

Final Thought: Write to Be Free, Not Trapped

A play is a mirror held up to life. It doesn’t have to be born of obsessive frenzy—just honest curiosity. The stage is for stories that matter, not for self-imposed suffering. So write from your deepest joys, fears, and questions. And remember: Your best work will come when you’re energised to tell it—not exhausted by the process.

Now go. Let the world see what makes you uniquely human. The audience is waiting. 🎭

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 206/207

Days 206 and 207 – From a Broken Keyboard to a Global Conspiracy

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From a Broken Keyboard to a Global Conspiracy: How to Flesh Out Your Thriller’s Plot

Every great thriller starts with a relatable spark. Yours begins with a brilliant, highly grounded premise: an ordinary, overworked everyman is stuck in a dreary office at 1:00 AM, dealing with cheap corporate equipment. Out of sheer frustration with a broken keyboard—and management’s refusal to replace it—he mashes a strange key combination.

Suddenly, he triggers something he was never meant to find.

As the quiet hum of the night office is broken by footsteps he assumes belong to security, his life shifts from mundane corporate misery to a high-stakes nightmare. If you want to turn this fantastic premise into a gripping, fast-paced narrative featuring a faceless organisation, unreliable allies, and a race to expose the truth, you need a solid narrative roadmap.

Here is a comprehensive guide on how to flesh out your storyline from the first keystroke to the final, high-risk broadcast.

Act I: The Catalyst (The 1 a.m. Discovery)

To make the conspiracy hit hard, the beginning must establish the protagonist’s mundane reality. Show, don’t just tell, how soul-crushing his job is.

  • The Setup: Establish the late hour. The office is a graveyard of half-eaten takeout and flickering fluorescent lights. He’s dealing with a mechanical artifact—a keyboard where the Spacebar sticks and the Enter key requires a hammer blow.
  • The Accident: In a fit of sleep-deprived rage, he slams a specific, unnatural sequence of keys (perhaps an old legacy shortcut bypassed by IT decades ago). Instead of an error screen, a terminal window opens, bypassing corporate firewalls entirely.
  • The Intruder: He finds data he shouldn’t—off-the-books ledgers, surveillance logs, or algorithmic predictions of human behaviour. Suddenly, he hears footsteps. He hides beneath his cubicle, expecting a night-shift security guard with a flashlight. Instead, he watches expensive, scuff-free Italian leather shoes walk past his desk. These people aren’t security; they are clean-up crew operatives or corporate fixers, and they know someone accessed the terminal.

Act II: Expanding the Circle (The Impossible Situation)

An ordinary man on the run can be thrilling, but adding a partner-in-crime elevates the tension through interpersonal dynamics and shared jeopardy.

  • The Unlikely Accomplice: Introduce a colleague. Maybe it’s the cynical night-shift data analyst who stayed late, or an ambitious junior compliance officer who is equally sick of the system. They accidentally get dragged into the mess when the protagonist tries to escape or confide in someone.
  • The Impossible Situation: Now, they aren’t just hiding; they are chained to a ticking clock. The faceless organisation locks down the building’s digital and physical infrastructure. Keycards stop working, elevators freeze, and the digital trail proves they accessed the files. They are trapped in a concrete-and-glass labyrinth where the hunters control every door.
  • Anatomy of the Faceless Organisation: Give this shadow entity weight. They shouldn’t be cartoon villains; they should feel like an omnipresent corporate leviathan. They mask their malice behind HR jargon, automated compliance threats, and terrifying efficiency. To them, the protagonists aren’t enemies—they are simply data anomalies that need to be deleted.

Act III: The Mirage of Allies (Trust No One)

As the walls close in, our protagonists need help—or so they think. This is where you subvert reader expectations.

  • The “Saviours”: Introduce characters who claim they want to help. Perhaps it’s a sympathetic middle-manager from a different department who “knows how the system works,” or an external cybersecurity consultant who mysteriously arrives to offer an escape route.
  • The Betrayal: Build the trust, drop breadcrumbs of doubt, and then pull the rug out. Maybe the “friendly manager” slips up by referencing a detail only the killers would know, or the cybersecurity expert leads them right into a trap.
  • The Psychological Toll: This realisation breaks the protagonists’ morale. They realise that within the ecosystem of this massive corporation, anyone could be compromised, monitored, or bought off. They are completely on their own.

Act IV: The Climax and Resolution (To the Right People)

Surviving the night is only half the battle. If they simply walk out the front door, the organisation will silence them legally, financially, or permanently. They have to go on the offensive.

  • The Arsenal: What did they discover on that broken keyboard? It’s not just dirty secrets; it’s verifiable digital leverage—encryption keys, financial transfers, or blueprints of a wider conspiracy.
  • Choosing the Target: Who are “the right people”?
    • Option A (The Media): A disgraced investigative journalist desperate for a comeback, or an independent whistleblower platform. The risk? Traditional media outlets can be bought, pressured, or legally gagged before the story drops.
    • Option B (A Shadow Group): An underground collective of hacktivists or a rival corporate faction who operates in the gray areas of the law. The risk? These allies might have a dark agenda of their own, forcing our heroes to make a deal with the devil.
  • The Final Transmission: Build to a cinematic climax where the protagonists must breach a secure location (or survive one final onslaught) long enough to hit “Send” or broadcast the files live.

Tips for Writing This Thriller

  1. Use Sensory Details: Lean into the claustrophobia of the office at night—the hum of the vending machine, the blinking red light of a security camera, the cold sweat of panic.
  2. Pacing is Everything: Alternate quiet, suspenseful moments of hiding with frantic, breathless bursts of action.
  3. Keep the Stakes Grounded: Remind the reader why these two ordinary people care. They aren’t secret agents; they just want to survive, clear their names, and expose a system that treats human lives as collateral damage.

By grounding your story in the universal frustration of a broken office tool and scaling it up into a high-stakes corporate conspiracy, you’ll hook readers from page one and keep them guessing until the very final keystroke.

…

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 206/207

Days 206 and 207 – From a Broken Keyboard to a Global Conspiracy

…

From a Broken Keyboard to a Global Conspiracy: How to Flesh Out Your Thriller’s Plot

Every great thriller starts with a relatable spark. Yours begins with a brilliant, highly grounded premise: an ordinary, overworked everyman is stuck in a dreary office at 1:00 AM, dealing with cheap corporate equipment. Out of sheer frustration with a broken keyboard—and management’s refusal to replace it—he mashes a strange key combination.

Suddenly, he triggers something he was never meant to find.

As the quiet hum of the night office is broken by footsteps he assumes belong to security, his life shifts from mundane corporate misery to a high-stakes nightmare. If you want to turn this fantastic premise into a gripping, fast-paced narrative featuring a faceless organisation, unreliable allies, and a race to expose the truth, you need a solid narrative roadmap.

Here is a comprehensive guide on how to flesh out your storyline from the first keystroke to the final, high-risk broadcast.

Act I: The Catalyst (The 1 a.m. Discovery)

To make the conspiracy hit hard, the beginning must establish the protagonist’s mundane reality. Show, don’t just tell, how soul-crushing his job is.

  • The Setup: Establish the late hour. The office is a graveyard of half-eaten takeout and flickering fluorescent lights. He’s dealing with a mechanical artifact—a keyboard where the Spacebar sticks and the Enter key requires a hammer blow.
  • The Accident: In a fit of sleep-deprived rage, he slams a specific, unnatural sequence of keys (perhaps an old legacy shortcut bypassed by IT decades ago). Instead of an error screen, a terminal window opens, bypassing corporate firewalls entirely.
  • The Intruder: He finds data he shouldn’t—off-the-books ledgers, surveillance logs, or algorithmic predictions of human behaviour. Suddenly, he hears footsteps. He hides beneath his cubicle, expecting a night-shift security guard with a flashlight. Instead, he watches expensive, scuff-free Italian leather shoes walk past his desk. These people aren’t security; they are clean-up crew operatives or corporate fixers, and they know someone accessed the terminal.

Act II: Expanding the Circle (The Impossible Situation)

An ordinary man on the run can be thrilling, but adding a partner-in-crime elevates the tension through interpersonal dynamics and shared jeopardy.

  • The Unlikely Accomplice: Introduce a colleague. Maybe it’s the cynical night-shift data analyst who stayed late, or an ambitious junior compliance officer who is equally sick of the system. They accidentally get dragged into the mess when the protagonist tries to escape or confide in someone.
  • The Impossible Situation: Now, they aren’t just hiding; they are chained to a ticking clock. The faceless organisation locks down the building’s digital and physical infrastructure. Keycards stop working, elevators freeze, and the digital trail proves they accessed the files. They are trapped in a concrete-and-glass labyrinth where the hunters control every door.
  • Anatomy of the Faceless Organisation: Give this shadow entity weight. They shouldn’t be cartoon villains; they should feel like an omnipresent corporate leviathan. They mask their malice behind HR jargon, automated compliance threats, and terrifying efficiency. To them, the protagonists aren’t enemies—they are simply data anomalies that need to be deleted.

Act III: The Mirage of Allies (Trust No One)

As the walls close in, our protagonists need help—or so they think. This is where you subvert reader expectations.

  • The “Saviours”: Introduce characters who claim they want to help. Perhaps it’s a sympathetic middle-manager from a different department who “knows how the system works,” or an external cybersecurity consultant who mysteriously arrives to offer an escape route.
  • The Betrayal: Build the trust, drop breadcrumbs of doubt, and then pull the rug out. Maybe the “friendly manager” slips up by referencing a detail only the killers would know, or the cybersecurity expert leads them right into a trap.
  • The Psychological Toll: This realisation breaks the protagonists’ morale. They realise that within the ecosystem of this massive corporation, anyone could be compromised, monitored, or bought off. They are completely on their own.

Act IV: The Climax and Resolution (To the Right People)

Surviving the night is only half the battle. If they simply walk out the front door, the organisation will silence them legally, financially, or permanently. They have to go on the offensive.

  • The Arsenal: What did they discover on that broken keyboard? It’s not just dirty secrets; it’s verifiable digital leverage—encryption keys, financial transfers, or blueprints of a wider conspiracy.
  • Choosing the Target: Who are “the right people”?
    • Option A (The Media): A disgraced investigative journalist desperate for a comeback, or an independent whistleblower platform. The risk? Traditional media outlets can be bought, pressured, or legally gagged before the story drops.
    • Option B (A Shadow Group): An underground collective of hacktivists or a rival corporate faction who operates in the gray areas of the law. The risk? These allies might have a dark agenda of their own, forcing our heroes to make a deal with the devil.
  • The Final Transmission: Build to a cinematic climax where the protagonists must breach a secure location (or survive one final onslaught) long enough to hit “Send” or broadcast the files live.

Tips for Writing This Thriller

  1. Use Sensory Details: Lean into the claustrophobia of the office at night—the hum of the vending machine, the blinking red light of a security camera, the cold sweat of panic.
  2. Pacing is Everything: Alternate quiet, suspenseful moments of hiding with frantic, breathless bursts of action.
  3. Keep the Stakes Grounded: Remind the reader why these two ordinary people care. They aren’t secret agents; they just want to survive, clear their names, and expose a system that treats human lives as collateral damage.

By grounding your story in the universal frustration of a broken office tool and scaling it up into a high-stakes corporate conspiracy, you’ll hook readers from page one and keep them guessing until the very final keystroke.

…

What I learned about writing – Authors to study from the past

Mastering the Craft: Must-Read Authors from the 1940s and Beyond to Elevate Your Writing

When it comes to mastering the art of writing—whether it’s crafting intricate plots, developing multidimensional characters, or diving into profound themes—there are countless literary giants whose works serve as masterclasses in storytelling. Starting from the 1940s and moving backwards in time, these authors offer timeless lessons in style, structure, and substance. Here’s a curated list of authors and their works that can transform your approach to writing.

1. William Golding (1954) – Lord of the Flies

Lesson: Human Nature and Allegory
Golding’s Lord of the Flies is a masterclass in allegorical storytelling and psychological depth. By placing a group of boys on a deserted island, he peels back the veneer of civilisation to reveal primal instincts. For writers, Golding teaches how to use a microcosmic setting to explore universal themes like power, fear, and morality. His sparse yet brutal prose shows how simplicity can amplify tension and symbolism.

2. Evelyn Waugh (1945) – Brideshead Revisited

Lesson: Structure and Societal Critique
Waugh’s semi-autobiographical novel combines lush prose with a fragmented, reflective narrative. Brideshead Revisited is a lesson in balancing character development with thematic depth. Writers can learn how to weave personal introspection with societal critique (e.g., the decline of British aristocracy) and how to structure a narrative around memory and emotional resonance.

3. Graham Greene (1940s–1950s) – The Power and the Glory (1940), The Quiet American (1955)

Lesson: Moral Ambiguity and Pacing
Greene’s novels, set against politically turbulent backdrops, explore moral ambiguity with razor-sharp precision. In The Power and the Glory, he uses a flawed priest to ask, “What makes a man good?” Writers can study Greene’s lean, taut prose, his ability to build tension through understatement, and how to embed philosophical questions into action-driven plots.

4. John Steinbeck (1939–1952) – The Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden

Lesson: Social Justice and Emotional Resonance
Steinbeck’s unflinching portrayal of the human condition, from the Joad family’s plight in The Grapes of Wrath to the complex family dynamics in East of Eden, teaches the power of empathy in storytelling. His ability to balance epic scope with intimate moments is a guide to creating narratives that are both socially relevant and emotionally gripping.

5. F. Scott Fitzgerald (1925) – The Great Gatsby

Lesson: Symbolism and Narrative Voice
Though published in the 1920s, Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby remains a touchstone for writers. Nick Carraway’s reflective narration and Gatsby’s glittering, tragic world showcase how symbolism (e.g., the green light, the Valley of Ashes) can anchor themes of aspiration and decay. His lyrical prose reminds us that language itself can be a character in the story.

6. Ernest Hemingway (1940s–1950s) – Across the River and into the Trees (1950)

Lesson: The Iceberg Theory
Hemingway’s famous “theory of omission” (hide the deeper meaning beneath the surface) is best learned by studying his sparse, understated prose. His 1950s works, while less celebrated, demonstrate how much can be said with minimal words. A lesson in restraint: show, don’t tell.

7. George Orwell (1949) – 1984

Lesson: Dystopian Storytelling and Warning Narratives
Orwell’s 1984 endures as a chilling exploration of authoritarianism and language manipulation. For writers, it’s a blueprint for constructing cautionary tales: how to create a world that feels grounded in reality, yet pushes the boundaries of imagination to provoke thought.

8. Virginia Woolf (1920s–1930s) – To the Lighthouse, Mrs. Dalloway

Lesson: Stream of Consciousness and Subjective Time
Woolf’s modernist experiments with time and perspective teach writers how to capture the inner lives of characters. Her fluid narratives, like the fragmented days of Mrs. Dalloway, show how to blur the lines between external action and internal emotion.

9. Truman Capote (1960) – In Cold Blood

Lesson: Narrative Non-Fiction
Though published in the 1960s, Capote’s blend of journalism and novelistic technique in In Cold Blood redefined true crime. It’s a masterclass in pacing, interview-driven storytelling, and how to humanise even the most heinous characters.

10. Harper Lee (1960) – To Kill a Mockingbird

Lesson: Moral Courage in Character Development
Lee’s iconic novel, published in the early 1960s, is a case study in using a child’s perspective to critique systemic racism. Atticus Finch’s quiet moral authority and Scout’s growth illustrate how to embed ethical dilemmas into character arcs without sermonizing.

Conclusion: The Timeless Classroom of Literature

From Golding’s haunting allegories to Hemingway’s clipped prose, these authors offer a rich tapestry of techniques to inspire modern writers. Whether you’re drawn to the moral complexity of Greene, the symbolic depth of Fitzgerald, or the socio-political acuity of Orwell, reading backward from the 1940s is a journey into the heart of what makes storytelling enduring. So, dive in—your next story’s secret might be hidden in the pages of their masterpieces.

Final Tip: As you explore these works, don’t just read—annotate, imitate, and experiment. The best writing lessons come when you let these authors’ voices influence your own unique style. Happy writing!

365 Days of writing, 2026 – Beyond the second novel

The ultimate blueprint

…

The Ultimate Blueprint: Simple Guidelines for Planning and Writing a Series of Novels

Stepping into the world of novel series writing is both exhilarating and terrifying. Whether you are dreaming of an epic fantasy saga like Harry Potter, a sprawling space opera, or a gripping multi-book mystery series, the sheer scale of the project can easily overwhelm even the most disciplined writers.

How do you keep your plot straight across three, five, or ten books? How do you keep readers hooked from the final page of Book 1 without resorting to cheap tricks?

As a copywriter and content strategist, I look at book series through the dual lens of creative storytelling and audience retention. Just like a successful content marketing funnel, a great book series needs structural integrity, consistent branding (or tone), and a compelling journey that keeps the “consumer” coming back for more.

Here are some simple, actionable guidelines to help you plan and write a successful series of novels from conception to publication.

1. Define the Scope: Trilogy, Open-Ended, or Arc-Based?

Before you write a single word of Chapter 1, you need to know the architectural style of your series. Not all series are created equal. Broadly speaking, they fall into three categories:

  • The Finite Trilogy/Saga: Think The Lord of the Rings or The Hunger Games. There is one overarching plot, a clear beginning, middle, and end, and the series concludes when the main conflict is resolved.
  • The Episodic/Open-Ended Series: Think classic detective fiction like Sherlock Holmes or Lee Child’s Jack Reacher. The protagonist remains the same, but each book features a standalone mystery or adventure.
  • The Arc-Based Series: Think most modern urban fantasy or television shows. There is a “case of the week” or book-specific conflict, but a massive, overarching plot unfolds slowly in the background over multiple books.

Pro Tip: If this is your first series, start with a trilogy or a tight arc-based series. Open-ended series can easily suffer from “plot fatigue,” while trilogies force you to respect pacing and finality.

2. Establish the Core Promise (And Honour It)

Every genre has unwritten rules and reader expectations. If you are writing a romance series, the reader expects a happily-ever-after (HEA) or at least a happy-for-now (HFN). If you are writing a thriller, they expect high stakes and resolution.

When planning a series, define your Core Promise:

  • What emotional or psychological journey are you taking the reader on?
  • What makes this world and these characters unique?

Deliver a satisfying conclusion to each individual book while advancing the larger narrative promise across the series. If a reader finishes Book 1 and feels like nothing happened because it was “just setup” for Book 2, you’ve broken the contract of trust.

3. Map the Macro and the Micro (Outlining)

You can sometimes “pantser” (write by the seat of your pants) a standalone novel, but doing so for a series is a recipe for massive continuity errors, plot holes, and writer’s block.

You need a two-tier outlining strategy:

  • The Macro Outline (The Series Arc): Map out the major beats of the entire series before you start. Where does the protagonist start in Book 1? What is the midpoint of the entire series (usually in Book 2 of a trilogy)? How does it end in the final book? Knowing your destination prevents you from writing yourself into a corner.
  • The Micro Outline (The Individual Book): Once the macro arc is set, zoom in and outline the specific book you are currently writing. Ensure it has its own distinct three-act structure, rising action, climax, and resolution.

4. Design Characters with Built-In Runway

Your protagonist needs room to grow. If your main character starts Book 1 as an all-knowing, all-powerful master of their universe, where do they go by Book 3? Nowhere.

  • Give them flaws: Flaws create internal conflict, which is just as important as external conflict.
  • Plan the character arc: Map out how the character’s worldview will shift from book to book.
  • Don’t neglect the supporting cast: Introduce recurring side characters who can carry subplots, offer contrasting viewpoints, or act as foils for your protagonist.

5. Build a Living, Breathing Bible (Continuity Tracking)

Nothing pulls a reader out of a story faster than a character having blue eyes in Book 1 and brown eyes in Book 3, or a magical rule changing on a whim.

Create a Series Bible—a digital document (using tools like Notion, Scrivener, or even a simple Google Doc) where you track:

  • Character Profiles: Names, physical descriptions, quirks, key relationships, and character arcs.
  • World-Building Rules: Geography, history, magic systems, technology, or societal rules.
  • The Timeline: A chronological master-list of when events happen in your universe.

Update this bible religiously as you write. Future-you will thank present-you.

6. Balance Cliffhangers and Resolution

One of the trickiest parts of writing a series is figuring out how to end each individual book.

  • Avoid the “Abrupt Stop”: Do not simply cut the story off mid-sentence on page 300 and call it a cliffhanger. That frustrates readers.
  • Resolve the Main Conflict of the Book: The immediate threat of this specific novel must be dealt with. The villain of Book 1 should be defeated (or the immediate mystery solved).
  • Introduce the Next Catalyst: Once the dust settles, introduce a new revelation, a twist, or a threat that points directly toward Book 2. The reader should feel a sense of closure plus a massive spike of curiosity about what happens next.

7. Consider Your Release Strategy (For Indie and Hybrid Authors)

If you are self-publishing or working with independent presses, your release strategy matters immensely for series success.

Unlike traditional publishing, where books often come out years apart, modern readers consume content rapidly.

  • Write ahead: Ideally, write the first two or three books (or even the whole series) before publishing the first one.
  • Rapid release: Launching books close together (e.g., 1–3 months apart) allows you to capture algorithmic momentum, keep advertising profitable, and hook readers who hate waiting for sequels.

Final Thoughts: Consistency is King

Writing a series of novels is a marathon, not a sprint. The secret ingredient isn’t raw talent—it’s consistency. By setting clear structural goals, keeping meticulous notes in your series bible, and respecting the pacing of both individual books and the overarching narrative, you’ll build a cohesive, immersive world that readers won’t want to leave.

Now, open up that blank document, map out your macro-arc, and start writing the first chapter of your multi-book masterpiece!

Are you planning a book series right now? What genre are you tackling, and what’s your biggest challenge? Let’s chat in the comments below!

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – Beyond the second novel

The ultimate blueprint

…

The Ultimate Blueprint: Simple Guidelines for Planning and Writing a Series of Novels

Stepping into the world of novel series writing is both exhilarating and terrifying. Whether you are dreaming of an epic fantasy saga like Harry Potter, a sprawling space opera, or a gripping multi-book mystery series, the sheer scale of the project can easily overwhelm even the most disciplined writers.

How do you keep your plot straight across three, five, or ten books? How do you keep readers hooked from the final page of Book 1 without resorting to cheap tricks?

As a copywriter and content strategist, I look at book series through the dual lens of creative storytelling and audience retention. Just like a successful content marketing funnel, a great book series needs structural integrity, consistent branding (or tone), and a compelling journey that keeps the “consumer” coming back for more.

Here are some simple, actionable guidelines to help you plan and write a successful series of novels from conception to publication.

1. Define the Scope: Trilogy, Open-Ended, or Arc-Based?

Before you write a single word of Chapter 1, you need to know the architectural style of your series. Not all series are created equal. Broadly speaking, they fall into three categories:

  • The Finite Trilogy/Saga: Think The Lord of the Rings or The Hunger Games. There is one overarching plot, a clear beginning, middle, and end, and the series concludes when the main conflict is resolved.
  • The Episodic/Open-Ended Series: Think classic detective fiction like Sherlock Holmes or Lee Child’s Jack Reacher. The protagonist remains the same, but each book features a standalone mystery or adventure.
  • The Arc-Based Series: Think most modern urban fantasy or television shows. There is a “case of the week” or book-specific conflict, but a massive, overarching plot unfolds slowly in the background over multiple books.

Pro Tip: If this is your first series, start with a trilogy or a tight arc-based series. Open-ended series can easily suffer from “plot fatigue,” while trilogies force you to respect pacing and finality.

2. Establish the Core Promise (And Honour It)

Every genre has unwritten rules and reader expectations. If you are writing a romance series, the reader expects a happily-ever-after (HEA) or at least a happy-for-now (HFN). If you are writing a thriller, they expect high stakes and resolution.

When planning a series, define your Core Promise:

  • What emotional or psychological journey are you taking the reader on?
  • What makes this world and these characters unique?

Deliver a satisfying conclusion to each individual book while advancing the larger narrative promise across the series. If a reader finishes Book 1 and feels like nothing happened because it was “just setup” for Book 2, you’ve broken the contract of trust.

3. Map the Macro and the Micro (Outlining)

You can sometimes “pantser” (write by the seat of your pants) a standalone novel, but doing so for a series is a recipe for massive continuity errors, plot holes, and writer’s block.

You need a two-tier outlining strategy:

  • The Macro Outline (The Series Arc): Map out the major beats of the entire series before you start. Where does the protagonist start in Book 1? What is the midpoint of the entire series (usually in Book 2 of a trilogy)? How does it end in the final book? Knowing your destination prevents you from writing yourself into a corner.
  • The Micro Outline (The Individual Book): Once the macro arc is set, zoom in and outline the specific book you are currently writing. Ensure it has its own distinct three-act structure, rising action, climax, and resolution.

4. Design Characters with Built-In Runway

Your protagonist needs room to grow. If your main character starts Book 1 as an all-knowing, all-powerful master of their universe, where do they go by Book 3? Nowhere.

  • Give them flaws: Flaws create internal conflict, which is just as important as external conflict.
  • Plan the character arc: Map out how the character’s worldview will shift from book to book.
  • Don’t neglect the supporting cast: Introduce recurring side characters who can carry subplots, offer contrasting viewpoints, or act as foils for your protagonist.

5. Build a Living, Breathing Bible (Continuity Tracking)

Nothing pulls a reader out of a story faster than a character having blue eyes in Book 1 and brown eyes in Book 3, or a magical rule changing on a whim.

Create a Series Bible—a digital document (using tools like Notion, Scrivener, or even a simple Google Doc) where you track:

  • Character Profiles: Names, physical descriptions, quirks, key relationships, and character arcs.
  • World-Building Rules: Geography, history, magic systems, technology, or societal rules.
  • The Timeline: A chronological master-list of when events happen in your universe.

Update this bible religiously as you write. Future-you will thank present-you.

6. Balance Cliffhangers and Resolution

One of the trickiest parts of writing a series is figuring out how to end each individual book.

  • Avoid the “Abrupt Stop”: Do not simply cut the story off mid-sentence on page 300 and call it a cliffhanger. That frustrates readers.
  • Resolve the Main Conflict of the Book: The immediate threat of this specific novel must be dealt with. The villain of Book 1 should be defeated (or the immediate mystery solved).
  • Introduce the Next Catalyst: Once the dust settles, introduce a new revelation, a twist, or a threat that points directly toward Book 2. The reader should feel a sense of closure plus a massive spike of curiosity about what happens next.

7. Consider Your Release Strategy (For Indie and Hybrid Authors)

If you are self-publishing or working with independent presses, your release strategy matters immensely for series success.

Unlike traditional publishing, where books often come out years apart, modern readers consume content rapidly.

  • Write ahead: Ideally, write the first two or three books (or even the whole series) before publishing the first one.
  • Rapid release: Launching books close together (e.g., 1–3 months apart) allows you to capture algorithmic momentum, keep advertising profitable, and hook readers who hate waiting for sequels.

Final Thoughts: Consistency is King

Writing a series of novels is a marathon, not a sprint. The secret ingredient isn’t raw talent—it’s consistency. By setting clear structural goals, keeping meticulous notes in your series bible, and respecting the pacing of both individual books and the overarching narrative, you’ll build a cohesive, immersive world that readers won’t want to leave.

Now, open up that blank document, map out your macro-arc, and start writing the first chapter of your multi-book masterpiece!

Are you planning a book series right now? What genre are you tackling, and what’s your biggest challenge? Let’s chat in the comments below!

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Harry Walthenson, Private Detective – the second case – A case of finding the “Flying Dutchman”

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What starts as a search for a missing husband soon develops into an unbelievable story of treachery, lies, and incredible riches.

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It was meant to remain buried long enough for the dust to settle on what was once an unpalatable truth, when enough time had passed, and those who had been willing to wait could reap the rewards.

The problem was, no one knew where that treasure was hidden or the location of the logbook that held the secret.

At stake, billions of dollars’ worth of stolen Nazi loot brought to the United States in an anonymous tramp steamer and hidden in a specially constructed vault under a specifically owned plot of land on the once docklands of New York.

It may have remained hidden and unknown to only a few, if it had not been for a mere obscure detail being overheard …

… by our intrepid, newly minted private detective, Harry Walthenson …

… and it would have remained buried.

Now, through a series of unrelated events, or are they, that well-kept secret is out there, and Harry will not stop until the whole truth is uncovered.

Even if it almost costs him his life.  Again.

What I learned about writing – Patterns, images and words

Breaking Free from Conventional Patterns: A Guide to Classicist, Modernist, and Personalised Visual Storytelling

As creatives, we’re often influenced by the styles and trends of our time. When it comes to visual storytelling, two dominant patterns have emerged: classicism and modernism. While these styles have their roots in art and architecture, they also extend to the world of design, writing, and even social media. But what happens when we want to break free from these conventional patterns and forge our own path? In this post, we’ll explore the characteristics of classicist and modernist patterns, discuss the pros and cons of using them, and provide guidance on creating your own unique visual language.

Classicism: Timeless Elegance

Classicism is characterised by:

  • Symmetry and balance
  • Ornate details and embellishments
  • Traditional typography and serif fonts
  • Earthy colours and muted tones
  • References to historical and cultural icons

Classical patterns evoke a sense of tradition, sophistication, and timelessness. They’re often associated with luxury brands, high-end products, and institutions that value heritage and prestige. If you’re aiming to create a sense of authority, trust, and stability, classicist patterns might be the way to go.

Modernism: Bold Innovation

Modernist patterns, on the other hand, are marked by:

  • Clean lines and minimalism
  • Geometric shapes and abstract forms
  • Sans-serif fonts and bold typography
  • Bright colours and bold contrasts
  • Emphasis on functionality and simplicity

Modernist patterns embody the spirit of innovation, progress, and experimentation. They’re commonly used in tech, design, and creative industries that prioritize forward thinking and cutting-edge ideas. If you want to convey a sense of dynamism, creativity, and forward momentum, modernist patterns might be your best bet.

The Risks of Conventional Patterns

While both classicist and modernist patterns have their advantages, relying too heavily on them can lead to:

  • Lack of originality and uniqueness
  • Overuse and clichés
  • Inability to stand out in a crowded market
  • Limited creative freedom and expression

Creating Your Own Patterns: The Power of Personalisation

So, what if you want to break free from these conventional patterns and create something truly unique? The good news is that you can! By combining elements from different styles, experimenting with new forms and shapes, and incorporating personal touches, you can develop a visual language that reflects your brand’s personality and values.

Here are some tips for creating your own patterns:

  1. Experiment with hybrids: Mix and match elements from classicism and modernism to create a style that’s both timeless and innovative.
  2. Draw from personal experiences: Incorporate patterns and motifs that reflect your personal story, interests, or cultural background.
  3. Play with typography: Use custom fonts, handwritten scripts, or unconventional typography to add a touch of personality to your designs.
  4. Incorporate natural elements: Use organic shapes, textures, and colours to bring a sense of warmth and authenticity to your visual storytelling.
  5. Keep it simple: Don’t be afraid to strip away unnecessary elements and focus on simplicity and clarity.

Conclusion

In the world of visual storytelling, patterns and styles can be both a blessing and a curse. While classicist and modernist patterns have their advantages, they can also limit our creative potential and lead to clichés. By embracing the power of personalisation and experimentation, we can break free from conventional patterns and create a visual language that’s truly unique and reflective of our brand’s personality. So, don’t be afraid to take risks, try new things, and forge your own path. The possibilities are endless, and the results can be truly remarkable.

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 205

Day 205 – Short or long titles

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The Great Title Debate: Why Both Short & Long Titles Work (And How to Choose)

We’ve all heard the golden rule of content creation: Keep it short and punchy.

From Ernest Hemingway to modern-day Twitter, brevity is traditionally praised as the ultimate form of wit. Short titles are clean, easy to read on mobile screens, and instantly digestible.

Yet, if you look at the top-ranking articles on Google, viral YouTube videos, and bestselling books, you’ll notice a fascinating paradox: Extremely long titles are just as popular.

Think about it. Would you rather click on “Productivity Tips” or “10 Scientifically Proven Productivity Tips That Will Transform Your Morning Routine Before 8 AM”?

While both work, they serve entirely different psychological triggers. If short and simple titles are so great, why do long titles dominate just as much? And more importantly, which one should you use?

Let’s dive into the psychology of titles and explore the exact guidelines you need to write headlines that convert.

The Case for Short Titles (Why Simple Wins)

Short titles have stood the test of time because of how human brains process information.

  • Cognitive Load is Low: Readers are lazy (or rather, busy). A short title requires zero effort to scan and comprehend.
  • Mobile-Friendly: With over 60% of web traffic coming from mobile devices, short titles don’t get awkwardly cut off by screen boundaries.
  • The Power of Mystery: Short titles often act as curiosity gaps. Think of iconic book titles like Dune, Outliers, or Eats, Shoots & Leaves. They force the reader to ask, “What is this actually about?”

Best used for: Branded content, creative storytelling, news headlines, and audiences who already trust your authority.

The Case for Long Titles (Why Detail Dominates)

If short titles are so efficient, why do long, multi-clause titles consistently rank well on Google and pull massive click-through rates (CTR) on platforms like YouTube?

Here is the secret: Long titles are actually mini-pitches.

  1. Search Engine Optimisation (SEO): Google loves context. A longer title allows you to pack in primary keywords, secondary keywords, and intent-driven modifiers without looking like you’re keyword-stuffing.
  2. Explicit Value Proposition: Long titles remove all ambiguity. The reader instantly knows what they are getting, how much they are getting (e.g., “10 ways”), and why it matters to them.
  3. Targeting Niche Intent: Someone searching for “Marketing” is a broad, hard-to-please user. Someone searching for “B2B SaaS Content Marketing Strategy for Early-Stage Startups” has high intent. A long title catches that specific, highly valuable fish.

Best used for: How-to guides, SEO-driven blog posts, educational content, and YouTube tutorials.

Guidelines: How to Choose (and Write) Short vs. Long Titles

You don’t have to guess which length to use. Follow these copywriting guidelines to determine the right length for your next piece of content—and how to execute it properly.

Guideline 1: Match Title Length to Search Intent

  • Informational/How-To: Lean toward long titles. Users want to know they’ve found the exact answer to their specific problem.
    • Example: “How to Fix a Leaking Faucet” vs. “Step-by-Step Guide: How to Fix a Leaking Single-Handled Kitchen Faucet in 15 Minutes”
  • Navigational/Branded: Lean toward short titles. The user is already looking for a specific brand or concept.
    • Example: “Nike Air Max Review”

Guideline 2: Balance SEO with Readability

For SEO, Google generally displays the first 50–60 characters of a title tag (roughly 600 pixels).

  • If you write a long title, put the most important keyword and hook at the very beginning.
  • Use the second half of the title for emotional triggers, modifiers (like “2024 Guide”), or brackets.
  • Formula: [Primary Keyword]: [Compelling Benefit] + [Modifier]

Guideline 3: Use Subheadlines to Bridge the Gap

You don’t have to cram everything into the main title. Use a two-part title structure (Headline + Subheadline) to get the best of both worlds:

  • Main Title (Short & Punchy): Grabs attention.
  • Subtitle (Long & Descriptive): Delivers context.
  • Example:
    • Headline: The Power of Habit
    • Subheadline: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business

Guideline 4: A/B Test Your Titles

Audiences are unpredictable. What works for a B2B SaaS blog might fail for a lifestyle magazine. Whenever possible, run A/B tests on your headlines using tools like MonsterInsights, Optimizely, or built-in email marketing subject line testers. You might find that your audience prefers a punchy 5-word title over a descriptive 12-word title—or vice versa.

The Verdict

So, which is better: short or long?

The truth is, there is no universal “better”—only “more appropriate.”

Short titles win on aesthetics, branding, and punchy curiosity. Long titles win on clarity, search engine optimisation, and explicit value.

Instead of obsessing over character counts, focus on clarity, relevance, and meeting the user’s intent. If a short title says it best, use it. If you need a longer title to explain the immense value hidden inside your content, don’t be afraid to spell it out.

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The story behind the story – Echoes from the Past

The novel ‘Echoes from the Past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The Birthday’.

My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.

Thus, the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.

So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.

So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.

I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.

And like all rewrites, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation.  I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample.  I was going to give them the re-worked short story.  Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’

Originally, it was not set anywhere in particular.

But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself.  We were there for New Year’s, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.

One evening, we were out late and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow; it was cold and wet, and apartment buildings were shimmering in the street light, and I thought, “This is the place where my main character will live”.

It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected.  I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.

I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went, so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.

Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller Centre is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy man with few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party.  I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble.  No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.

Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule and begins a relationship?

But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.

And, of course, I wanted a happy ending.

Except for the bad guys.

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Get it here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

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