Writing Is the Easy Part
I’ve written 26 books across three series, plus a standalone, since 2016. I like to write, and I think I do it somewhat decently. My mom seems to like them—although she says I spell the F-bomb too much.
I struggled with this post. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m up here writing it. I’m not a mentor. I’m not an expert. But what I am is someone who has slowly—and expensively—learned that writing skill alone isn’t enough to make you successful.
I like to tell my wife that I make shit up for a living.
That works great when you’re writing fiction.
Not so great when you’re trying to run a business.
When You Hit Publish, the Job Changes
When you hit publish, you are no longer just an author.
You’re a publisher.
It’s right there in the name: self… pub… lish… ing.
Whether you want it or not, you’re running a business.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned over the years is this:
Writing is the easy part.
Writing is the core of what we do. There is no business without the words we put on the page. Words are visible progress—the daily word count, the finished manuscript, the growing list of books with your name on them.
The rest—the backend bleed of the business—is death by a thousand paper cuts.
What do I mean by that?
It’s work.
It’s commitment.
It’s research.
And none of it is optional.
The Two Things Authors Almost Always Get Wrong
I host a podcast called Plot Recon, where thrillers get tactical. I talk to other thriller authors about writing and marketing. When I ask authors what they didn’t understand before publishing, I hear the same two answers over and over:
One: They didn’t understand categories.
Two: They didn’t understand their target audience.
Most authors start by writing the book they want to read and hope it will fit neatly into a category later.
That hope is expensive.
Why Categories Actually Matter
Categories aren’t just labels.
They do a lot of things, but three matter most:
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They help readers find you
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They help retailers understand you
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They help the algorithm decide whether to show your book to anyone at all
Let me give you a real example.
Does a scuba-diving detective who lives on a boat belong in Sea Adventures, Thriller, or Hardboiled?
If you don’t answer that before you publish, you’re not launching a book.
You’re tossing it into the ocean and hoping it swims to the right shelf.
And that scuba-diving detective?
That’s my book.
I have a sixteen-book series with that character.
“But My Book Fits Multiple Categories…”
I can hear you now:
“But Evan, my vampire space-opera thriller romance is so great it fits into all of those categories.”
You’d be right. It probably does.
But here’s the problem: as a reader who lives in the thriller genre, I don’t read vampire romances or space opera. I won’t see your book, and I won’t buy it—not because it’s bad, but because it’s not for me.
Before you shoot the messenger, I’m not saying don’t write what you want.
I’m not saying don’t write what you know.
I’m saying you have to understand the category so people can actually find you.
So let me ask the most important question of all:
Who do you want to find you?
It’s okay—you can say it out loud.
Your target audience.
They’re the people who live inside those categories, buy your book, and then buy the next one.
Homework (Yes, You Have Some)
I’m not here to give you a lecture on how to optimize categories or how to identify your target audience.
That’s your homework.
Because when you don’t understand your category or your audience, the problem isn’t just bad reviews or low sales.
Your book will just… disappear.
And trust me—no one wants their book to disappear. I don’t want your books to disappear.
My Third Piece of Advice: One Basket
I want you to be successful. So here’s my third piece of advice:
Put all your eggs in one basket.
A few years ago, I decided to go direct-to-consumer—selling through my own website, with a side of all the other retailers. I did the research, thought I understood the model, and went all in.
At the time, the prevailing wisdom was to give away a free book to entice readers deeper into your catalog.
I gave away a lot of books.
And I got frustrated when it didn’t work.
The single lesson I learned from that experiment was this:
Free is the costliest business model you can ever have.
Pivoting Isn’t the Same as Progress
So I pivoted.
I went back to retailers—running sales, sending newsletters, stacking promotions. I slung money at it like a rapper at a strip club.
Then I realized I was right back in the free model again.
So I pivoted again.
I went back to direct. I built a Shopify website. I ran ads. I built funnels. I created backend systems. And every time someone said it cost X to do something, my ego said, “You can learn to do it yourself.”
Next thing I knew, I was juggling every job like a circus monkey—trying to keep all the plates spinning and not getting anything done.
I looked busy.
But all I was really doing was spinning plates.
The Real Failure Wasn’t the Model
What I finally admitted to myself was this:
I wasn’t failing because the models were broken.
I was failing because I couldn’t do everything myself—and because I never picked a system and stayed laser-focused on it. I always had one foot out the door, waiting for the system to fail.
The reality is that you have to go all in.
Commitment matters in business just like it does in life.
Andrew Carnegie once said:
“Put all your eggs in a basket, and then watch the basket. It is easy to watch and carry one basket.”
Pick Your Basket—On Purpose
Which basket is right for you?
I don’t know.
I don’t know what you expect from your book, your career, or your audience—and that’s okay.
That’s the great thing about this business.
There are a lot of ways to sell a book.
You just have to pick one. And you need to make sure it’s the one that’s right for you—and the one where your target audience actually lives.
Without understanding the basics and learning how to meet your audience where they are, it takes a lot longer to find your basket.
So do the research.
Learn the systems and funnels that actually sell your books.
And don’t be a knucklehead like me.