How To Write Good
Guidelines For Online Fiction Writers
Fiction writers of Substack, listen up:
I get it. We’re all sick to death of the how-to-grow content, and I know that. It never feels like it applies. And honestly? It probably doesn’t. So I’m not going to insult you with that. Instead, I’m going to give you the world’s shortest primer on the key to growing a fiction presence online.
Ready? Here it is: write good.
…
…what? That’s not enough?
Okay, fine, let’s do this.
First off, a bit about me and what the heck I’m doing on this platform with my fiction in the first place.
I came to Substack in February 2022 to write nonfiction, and that was it. I had been writing fiction privately for ages, but at the time I started on Substack I had only ever had one piece of short fiction published in a webzine. A cool entry for my writing resume, but had zero effect on my career in any quantitative way. Cut to May 2023, after Notes had been launched, and I decided to jump on the Substack fiction train. Little did I know that things were gonna take off in a massive way.
Ever since I was a child, I’ve wanted to be a writer. But I always said I never wanted to be famous, and I don’t. I want to be beloved. Meaning, I want my work to mean something to someone, even if that’s a very small group of people. If I make a difference, then it’s worth it.
Now, six months later after starting Talebones, I have a steadily growing readership. But what’s more important to me is that I have a devoted readership, a number of folks who enjoy my work and come back to read, theorize, and go deeper every time I post. This is, to me, the culmination of a lifelong dream, no matter what else happens with my platform. The numbers are nice, but they don’t tell the whole story.
I don’t want crowds of new people finding me every week. I want the same folks to come back again and again. That, to me, is a huge compliment.
So. If you’re a fiction writer on Substack, and you’re wondering how to “grow”, I’m not the right person to help you. Because there are plenty of growth strategies I’m not trying.
But if what you want is dedication, I may be able to give you at least a tiny leg-up.
A few quick disclaimers before we begin:
These are guidelines, not rules. There are no guarantees in this game.
I’m going to be blunt with these. I’m not trying to hurt anyone’s feelings, but if you want truth, that’s what I’m giving you.
No amount of advice is going to help you if you’re not willing to put in the work to improve. After you read this, the rest is up to you.
Ready?
Here we go.
Seven Guidelines for Creating Dedicated Fiction Readers
1. Readers like to read good writing.
I recognize this is already going to be unpopular, but hear me out. There is all the room in the world for writers to practice, and share their unpolished writing exercises publicly, especially if they want feedback. I have no problem with that. But if you want to build a dedicated readership of fans, you need to entertain them, not put them to work. And entertaining writing is good writing. Not fancy writing, not high-falutin’ writing, but good writing. Well thought-out. Considered. Compelling to read. As error-free as you can possibly get it. If you’re not interested in giving your readers good writing, why should they be expected to stick around? And that leads us to…
2. Think of your readers.
As writers we can often fall into the trap of assuming that there’s a magic formula for attracting readers like moths to a flame and that once we’ve caught them, they’ll stay. But that is false. What do readers owe you? Nothing. Zero. Goose-egg. Readers are allowed to be picky. Their time is valuable. So it’s vital that we think of them and their attention as we write, and be generous with them if we expect the generosity of their readership. Pacing is huge, as well as making sure your work has flow. Don’t clutter up your fiction posts with unnecessary housekeeping or unrelated bits and bobs. Your readers want to immerse themselves; don’t ruin their experience! Also, much hand-wringing is done about post length and where to put calls-to-action and all that junk, but none of that matters if it’s clear that you’re not writing with your readers in mind and putting that quality into your work. You can write and post a story that’s 10,000 words long, if it’s well done, flows nicely, and your readers see themselves in it. Equally, you can write a 50-word story that no one will care about because it was clear you didn’t put any real storytelling umph behind it. Oh, and on the topic of whether something has umph…
3. Cool ideas aren’t enough.
Yeah, sorry to break it to you. Cool ideas are cool, but they’re a dime a dozen. Everyone has cool or interesting ideas that could make a fantastic book or short story. Literally everyone. Just because you have a cool idea, doesn’t make it a good story. What makes it good is the time you take to sit down and turn that idea into something truly compelling. It’s the population of characters running around with that idea, chasing their desires through the snow and bumping up against obstacles and turning the landscape into a whole world of possibilities. That’s what makes a cool idea into something truly magical. And this orbits around the ability to…
4. Understand story structure.
Want the world’s quickest masterclass on what makes a good story? Here it is: a character is chasing something they want (motivation) and is pursued by something they don’t know they need (theme). Hilarity ensues. The story ends when they either get the thing they need, or they don’t. Bare-bones, that’s how good stories are born. Story structure matters, and studying it is never a waste of time. What does your protagonist want? Make sure they really want it, and the story will practically tell itself. Motivation is such a huge bulk of storytelling that tales feel toothless (and worse, boring) without it. But what does your protagonist actually need? That’s your story’s theme. That’s the narrative question. That’s your story’s thesis. Nothing…and I mean NOTHING…in your story should be there if it doesn’t serve that narrative question. I know this is harsh, but no reader cares about your elaborate worldbuilding or your character’s favorite color unless it matters to the story, the thing people are reading for, the themes. The way you answer these narrative questions is more important than you think…
5. Themes build fans.
The way you answer the narrative questions in your story will be determined—whether you like it or not—by your worldview. If you care about certain things (redemption, hope, family, revenge, justice, etc) they will come out in your writing. And they will likely be very consistent, too. Mine are. My stories all tend to center around certain themes, because I have particular worldviews. And the people who are the most dedicated to my stories are often folks who agree, on some level, with my conclusions. If you’re a horror writer who loves gory unhappy endings, that’s completely fine, but recognize that you’re not going to get anywhere chasing readers who love happy, sappy endings. If you love to make sure that everyone in your story gets a redemption arc, then recognize that the folks who value justice above everything else might not follow you into that unless you work really hard to make it work. Know your audience, stay consistent, and the right readers will find you and stick with you. But, to make sure they find you…
6. Make the good stuff visible.
This is the ONE annoying pragmatic brass-tack thing on this list, but it’s a particular bug-bear of mine. You can’t complain about a lack of reader growth while your newsletter is a navigational nightmare! There are plenty of resources on this site showing folks how to organize, so I won’t go into that here, but for the love of little green apples, fiction writers, if you want folks to read and love your work, make it easy to find the good stuff. Be clear about what you’re working on and, ideally, keep ongoing projects to a minimum so readers don’t get confused. Organize your serials into Indexes or Tables of Contents. Categorize your shorts. Provide navigation buttons (“next chapter”). Keep your fiction free of platform-specific clutter. This isn’t insulting or hand-holding, this is just common sense. Be inviting. Set the table. It’s YOUR job to make it easy to hang out, if that’s what you want readers to do. Make the mood. And to that end, lastly…
7. Watch out for bitterness.
Look, I get it: creative types are often shunted to the side, treated like weirdos. We’re used to being the odd ones out. We’re used to getting rejected and used and all that jazz. I’m with ya. I’ve been there. But a lot of us are running around this platform with a chip on our shoulder the size of El Capitan. Complaining about numbers, being pushy with self-promotion instead of having fun with it, comparing ourselves to others, getting pissy about feedback, and whining about how misused (or ignored) we feel by the platform higher-ups gets us exactly nowhere, and makes the whole lot of us look bad. The people who see you doing that are the same people you want to read your work. Is that worth it? I don’t think so. There are other places for that bitterness to go. Focus, instead, on genuinely pouring yourself into your writing for the sake of the readers you want to have. Appreciate the readership you’ve got, because every new email address is a new hand outstretched, inviting you into an inbox. That’s huge. And when those ugly feelings appear—as they do, I know—grab gratitude with both hands and make it your lifeline. I promise you, it will make all the difference in the world.
Conclusion
You’ve already given me enough of your time, so I won’t belabor this conclusion. Only this, my friends: fiction on Substack has the potential to be a huge thing. A really, really powerful thing. In some ways, it already is. The world needs our stories. Readers are hungry for authentic work, for words that inspire.
Fiction can save lives, I truly believe that.
But to make that happen, the writers who are interested in publishing here in a serious way need to make sure their work is truly publishable.
Stay open. Stay teachable. Stop complaining (I’m serious).
Focus on flexibility. Grab gratitude.
And above all else: write good.
Written by S.E. Reid