So this is going to be a long post, and for some of you, it might upset you or change the way you look at authors and the people who support them. I need to tell it though, so here goes.
I was a writer first, and then an editor, and then I took on other roles, really with just one goal in mind: to help young writers avoid some of the mistakes I made as a newbie author. The money I made from these things was really a secondary concern, but that’s another part of my story.
Because in September of 2024, I almost quit.
Quit helping other authors.
Quit teaching.
Quit editing.
Quit coaching.
For a brief moment, I considered quitting the writing and publishing industry altogether—something I have been doing full-time since 2009.
Now, that career always included some freelance writing (a lot at first) and fiction and then moved to include editing, non-fiction writing, and a little ghostwriting on the side. Then came editing, which I did for a publisher, and then freelance. I loved all of it.
Then, I started helping authors beyond editing a manuscript. Like my friend and colleague Stacey Smekofske, I’d hand a manuscript back to an author, and they’d look at me like, “Now what?”
Even before we met, she and I had moved into “publishing coaching” and “career coaching” for authors. The thing about everything I’ve ever done for writers is that it’s hard. Writers want as much from you as they can get for free, but to make a living as an editor and coach, you have to charge for your time. Rates go up every year because so does the cost of living.
Most authors survive on tight budgets, and many can’t afford pro rates, depending on what they do for a day job. And many want you to not only help them get published but give them a magic bullet for success – one that frankly does not exist.
But there are options, and in my enthusiasm, I took one of those options. But before I tell you about that, I need to state two things:
The first is that it is never necessary for you to set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. But that is often what editors and educators do: we offer more hours for our clients than we are paid for, and we sacrifice our time and usually a piece of our sanity to try to give those we help a shot at success. The victim is often our own work, the things we are truly passionate about.
The second is that it is vital for entrepreneurs in any space to know the difference between an opportunity and a distraction. How do you tell the difference? By how it aligns with your goals. The key is knowing your “why” and sticking with it.
For a few years, I got distracted. The result was nearly disastrous. I went against the advice I gave other authors and entrepreneurs, and frankly, it nearly killed my career.
But let’s get to the story and why I’m writing this in the first place.
A Bit of History
Many of you have heard my story, but I’ll summarize it anyway. At the quite mature age of 14, I knew I wanted to be a writer, but I followed the advice of the counselors and all of the adults around me, those who told me that though I was talented, I could never make that a career, and I needed to get a “real job.”
Fast-forward a couple of decades and what I call a “series of hairnets, nametags, and careers.” I determined that I needed to figure out this writing thing, or I would have no idea what I would do for the rest of my life. So, very long story short, I did.
I had a decent break-out novel, some fantastic freelance opportunities, and a job as an editor that started me down the path I mentioned above.
Something was always missing. I made a living, had some great years and some not-so-great ones, suffered through a bad relationship and three years of hardly writing a word of fiction, barely survived, and then started over.
I entered another relationship that turned into a nightmare because I never make the same mistake twice. I always try something three or four times, just to make sure. It’s funny but also true.
Then, I fell in love with software that quite honestly changed my writing life, and I started to advocate for it just as a user. Honestly, I should have kept things that way. My writing life began to accelerate, and I was the most productive I’d ever been.
Then it happened. The software company Plottr offered me a “job,” really a contract position, as their education lead. I got paid for some of the education I provided authors, but I continued to push the software at conferences and writer events for free, doing demos and classes for the company and on my own, blurring the lines of volunteer and paid time.
Pretty soon, I was writing less and teaching more.
Then came a nightmare of a summer. My now ex-spouse and I purchased a house, one that needed a lot of work. As a freelancer, I had the most flexibility, so I spent hours working on the house and managing contractors while trying to write and maintain my career.
It didn’t work. What did I sacrifice? My writing. I continued to help writers, filmed videos, attended virtual conferences, gave software demos, and became a little bit “internet famous” as “The Plot Dude.”
Fast forward a bit, and I found myself divorced, coming out of an anxiety and depression episode I didn’t know I was in, and a new chapter opened up. Plottr was reorganizing, and as a part of that, I would be a partial owner, paid in part through company shares, although there was no clear outline for how that would work. The future, it seemed, was bright. I could tie myself to Plottr for stability, something my income had rarely had in the past, and use my share of ownership as my retirement plan while I set aside more dedicated time to write and tell my own stories.
I want to clarify that I did not ask for a position of ownership. It was offered to me as a “reward” for my loyalty to Plottr, even when at times, I was only working 10 hours a week. Some negative things happened during that time, primarily the fault of one staff member, but I stayed anyway. After all, I was doing the right thing and helping writers in a way I felt like I couldn’t on my own.
Life was good. Plottr even hired a new co-educator, CJ Anaya, who would turn out to be not only my teaching partner but a friend and now co-author.
Then, in August, the bomb dropped.
The Plottr education department, still very much in the infancy/start-up and growth phase, could no longer afford to pay us. In fact, the only way we could continue with Plottr would be to essentially cut the time we spent on teaching and education by at least 75%, probably more.
The plans we had, the classes CJ and I had planned together, and even some of the files we had created and books we had planned? Gone.
But there was a bright spot. That bright spot saved me.
Even though I almost quit helping writers at all. Because I made a promise and had one last commitment to honor.
Unreadable and a Reset
In August, CJ and I led a workshop titled Fundamentals of Outlining. During that workshop, we outlined a novel using what we had learned from teaching a course on Lisa Cron’s Story Genius and the Plottr software itself.
Then, at the end of that workshop, we made a bold promise: we were not only going to teach people these methods, but we would also use them to write a book together. We put Unreadable, the idea we created during that workshop, up for pre-order on Amazon, setting ourselves a critical (and hard) deadline of January 16, 2025.
Within two weeks, our time at Plottr was over. But we still had a book to write and a hard deadline.
But I can tell you that time was tough. I’m not going to tell CJ’s story here (that is hers to tell), but she left a job (not a great one, but a job that was paying her reasonably enough to live on) to take the position at Plottr with the understanding it was something that it turned out not to be. Even when things weren’t ideal, she stayed (just as I did) amid promises that things would change. As you know by this point in the story, they did not.
My rent had just gone up. CJ had moved to a new place, and had more rent to pay too, not to mention that she has a few kids still roaming the house. Both of use were thrown into financial chaos.
And we both had something else in common. We’d essentially torpedoed and self-sabotaged our own writing careers to help others – to the point where we were essentially starting over.
For me, starting over again. But in that restart, I found something magical, even though disaster loomed.
Love and Hate Collide
First, we had to write Unreadable, despite all the chaos and financial hardship we both faced. Luckily, I had a unique living situation and could manage for a couple of months while I found my feet, at least partially. (I would say I am still staggering a bit, but that’s another story).
However, I found solace and comfort in writing Unreadable with CJ. We kept each other accountable and fell in love with the story, and even when we struggled, the novel we were creating remained a bright spot.
At the same time, I looked back on what I had done. Projects started, ones I loved, remained unfinished. Ideas I had for books and even courses for writers, ones I intended to make a part of Plottr education, sat, mocking me. What was I thinking? Coaching and editing, once a thriving part of what I did, had also taken a back seat. I even gave up a lucrative, long-running freelance editing gig for a major magazine because I was “prioritizing Plottr,” and that job no longer served my “why.” But wait. What was my why?
Well, it’s always been two parts: to get my own stories into the world because I feel like I have a whole bunch of them to tell and to help others get their stories into the world. Somehow, my priority had flipped. My stories were suddenly second. Maybe even further down the list.
Because I’d gotten distracted, priority one had become to ensure Plottr succeeded because as long as the company succeeded, so would I. I’d tied my security to something out of my control.
Helping others, while a part of what I did through Plottr education, also took a backseat. Editing and coaching, where I made the most significant difference to others, had become a distant second place. Last came my own writing. Oh sure, I had my time blocked in the morning, but if I got a Slack message or an email from Plottr that needed my attention? Well, bye-bye writing time, hello distraction.
What started as an opportunity became anything but. Now, my significance, my identity, and a big part of who I had become were gone. And it was no one’s fault but my own.
I want to make that clear. What happened was not Plottr’s fault, nor does it lie at the feet of anyone at the company. Instead, it is down to me. I allowed myself to be distracted and to tie myself to something that I thought was mine but was not.
I still love the program, but I can hardly open it anymore. Not because it doesn’t work but because of the emotions that are associated with it. Thankfully, that’s worked out for me in new ways.
At first, I was mad at Plottr, some of the ways things were handled, and at the situation in general. Then I got mad at myself. I told others never to tie themselves too closely to a company, any company, as an author. Even being tied to one platform is a bad idea. Yet I did that.
Don’t ever build your house (career) on rented land. I say it all the time, but I did it. For a moment, I hated myself and my foolish decisions, but I discovered something.
Unreadable, the book CJ and I were working on, was good. Really good. I could still write. And I could save this thing. And my career. I could rebuild.
But it would not be easy.
A New Beginning and a Fresh Start
If you’ve hung in there this far, we’re almost done because the next step forward is simple for me. No more rented land.
It’s time for me to reboot my author career and get it back on track. That’s why this whole career thing started in the first place. When I do help writers, it will be either through my own companies or in direct support, like editing and coaching. Education will happen on a platform I at least own a portion of with partners who share the same vision.
I’m a part of around three companies, and while I’ll do some education for various writer software providers, no one of them will control enough of my time that I become dependent on them.
I’m working with a new plotting, character development, and world-building tool that I feel will be amazing and help writers create even better stories. I’ve modified my writing process again, and my production is increasing, nearing, and even surpassing my “pre-Plottr” days.
Some days are painful, especially when I look at my bank account. But cool things are happening. The release of Unreadable and the audio shorts/audio first Solitaire series all promise a fabulous start to a new year.
Those Pocket Guides I had planned for authors that would have been a part of Plottr education? I’ve released two since my departure, with two more coming within the next six months. Plot Geek Academy is on the rise: AuthorsZen, a landing page hosting platform for writers that aspires to be even more, is off to a running start.
And that new plotting program? Well, I’ll tell you more as soon as I can.
But for now, it’s time for me to go. I didn’t quit. I restarted instead.
And it’s time to write. My calendar and my heart say so. And if you find that you need help as a writer, from accountability to education to another place to display and sell your work, feel free to reach out.
I’m here for you. And for me. It turns out I’m not going anywhere after all.
