Be a Conversation Starter

Cultivating your expertise, your author platform, and your arrogance of belonging

Last week I had a consultation with an aspiring memoirist. Great memoir. Very “of the moment” insofar as it’s a book that catches a certain kind of zeitgeist that publishers love—hip, edgy, and its intended audience is that coveted readership of women ages 40-60. This writer is dead set on traditional publishing, as many are when they first finish a book and look at the options ahead of them. And, she’s done what countless writers before her have done—she’s finished a truly good book that should be published and is ready to be published, then hit up against the wall of no author platform. She has no author website, no social media presence to speak of, no published bylines.

The vast majority of nonfiction writers who land in agents’ inboxes with this lack of public-facing presence don’t have a chance in hell at representation. Book publishing sets authors up for unrealistic expectations because there are always those exceptions, and authors love to hang their hats on those few. “What about Tara Westover?” people have asked me about Tara or fill-in-the-blank other author who they perceive to have shot out of a canon from nowhere. She didn’t have an author platform to speak of and Educated was a breakout bestseller. Aspiring authors love to find these exceptions to the rule, and you will certainly find the exceptions if you go looking for them. But to apply them to yourself and pin your hopes on that is not a strategy; it’s looking for a shortcut. It’s searching for someone to tell you, yes, that could be you, too. You, too, might find $100 on the ground on your walk around the neighborhood today, but more likely you’re going to have to work for it.

Back to my zeitgeisty memoirist with the great manuscript—she gets it. So this is not a story of author resistance. This is a story of a writer who embraces the work ahead of her and who’s all in. These are the building blocks we laid out for what it will take to get her from zero to something meaningful, the foundational work any given writer needs to do to become a go-to and therefore capture agent and publisher interest in their work.

1. Author website

This is the bare minimum, and authors often ask me if they can integrate their writerly life into their existing website. Answer: it depends. If you’re in the arts, or if the work you do touches upon the ideas and themes in your manuscript, sure. For instance, you’re a life coach writing a leadership book, then yes. If you’re a real estate agent writing a coming-of-age memoir, then no. A note that your site needs to look great. Modern, clean, easy-to-navigate. You can’t have a 1990s-looking site and expect an agent to take you seriously. Do this well. Hire out. Or update if you know your site needs a facelift.

2. Grow a following

Starting up your social media or your Substack is one thing; growing a following is something completely different. Publishers don’t just want you to have social media accounts or a Substack landing page, they want engagement. They want to see that you write regularly about the subjects you’ve written about in your book. This can be challenging for memoirists who’ve written about childhood, or a particular subject matter that doesn’t obviously translate to expertise. That said, I’ve found that baked into all nonfiction is the potential to be an expert in something. You may need to work with a coach or a smart friend to tease out what your expertise is, or to find your lane(s). You might need to cast about for what the conversations are that you want to have or be starting. Once you do, stay the course. Consistency over time is everything when it comes to growing your author platform. Too often I see writers/authors give up being conversation starters because they strike the match and it’s a slow burn when they were hoping for a bonfire. These things take time to build.

3. Byline action

Publishers love a good byline, and a viral post can sometimes (still) translate into a book deal if it’s the right subject that hits a particular nerve. Challenge yourself to pitch a story or an article or an op-ed once a quarter. See what lands. Adding credentials to your author bio that you’re published in this or that magazine or newspaper shows agents and publishers that you know how to do the work.

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During my time in traditional publishing, I spent a lot of time with marketing people. The editorial team brought the projects, but it was the marketing team that gave the green lights or shut down the projects—almost always for lack of author platform. On the rare occasions our VP of Marketing would consider a project whose author had no to little platform, I’d marvel at the way she could on the spot spin out a series of ideas the author might consider doing to up the ante. She was the one who taught me the value of any given one of our authors being a conversation-starter, and why that mattered when it came to selling books.

Today, as a hybrid publisher, I don’t have to acquire with my marketing hat on because my publishing imprints don’t require authors be go-to’s in order to publish with us. I conceived of She Writes Press with this barrier removed because I saw how writers struggled to build meaningful author platforms without books. Having that book in hand opens doors, and gives you a certain legitimacy upon which to build expertise. But my hope is always that once my authors sign a deal with us, or by the time their book is out, they’re heeding this same advice around becoming or being a conversation starter in their space. Too often I see writers/authors go for it, then give up. They fail to stay in the conversation. They publish their books, then fade away. Staying in the conversation takes stamina; consistency in being the conversation-starter requires passion and a particular “arrogance of belonging,” to share a phrase I love from the poet David Whyte. This concept encourages writers (and all artists) to lean into their creative entitlement. Who better to be here but you? Why not you? Take up the space. Be at the center of the conversations you want to have.

On this note, a few weeks ago I had coffee with a local author who told me she reads my Substack sometimes. She likes it, she told me, but, according to her, people are not really into advice anymore. Readers like people who are in the trenches with them, doing the things alongside them rather than telling them what’s what. It felt like a dig, and I ruminated on it for approximately 20 minutes after we parted before deciding that I don’t agree (and also that there’s more than one right or good way to do something), and even if she’s right, I don’t care. My arrogance of belonging is that I believe it matters that I show up here and elsewhere, whether it be to start a conversation, to engage you, my readers, or just to tell it like it is.

Before we end, I know this post has been geared toward nonfiction writers, but novelists, you’re not off the hook. Fiction writers love to tell me that the rules are different, that you can’t build an author platform for fiction in the way you can for nonfiction. You are correct. But that doesn’t mean you can’t follow the above prescription: 1. website; 2. grow a following; 3. get some bylines. Your website may be simple, like a calling card and not much more than that. Your socials might be artistic, image-driven, sharing inspiration or other books that you love. It can be less about expertise and more about what you want to see in the world, but you can still tend to your future readership.

To the zeitgeisty memoirist’s credit, the one whose story I opened with, she’s building her team. She’s excited. I think she has what it takes to go the distance. This is a long game, and authors who finish their manuscripts and are rearing to go don’t always want to take the year (at least) that it takes to build a platform. (To that end, here’s a short video about balancing writing and platform-building for those of you who are still writing. Start sooner rather than later if you can.) Too often writers are longing for shortcuts, either secretly or out loud. They want to believe they’ll be that exception to the rule. They get disappointed rather than proactive. They lose steam and capitulate rather than tending to their arrogance of belonging.

What is your arrogance of belonging, dear writers, and how will you bring it to the fore?