B is for Book Coach

Welcome back to B is for Book Coach. Today, we’re making space for steam shovels.

It’s been a while since I had to be on bedtime duty for a little one, but on Halloween, I tagged in to watch my babiest niece so my kiddos could enjoy the evening instead of watching her like they usually do.

She was a little sad that all of her favorite people had left her to the just-okay-Aunt-B, but that was before I told her we could read four books at bedtime.

I saw my opportunity to indoctrinate her with the good stuff (and sneak a bit of nostalgia in for myself as well), and I took it.

We’re talking Eric Carle. Fairy tales. Chicka Chicka Boom Boom.

And a deep cut she hadn’t seen before: Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel.

- A picture book from 1939 following a man and his steam shovel named Mary Ann as they learn to adapt to a post-steam-shovel world.

- The parallels to AI—new technology swooping in, the attachment to what was, the fears of being scrapped and desperation to find the right audience…

- The choices we have

- The possibilities "they" can't see

- What we can do next

Enjoying this space? Want to dig deeper?

Consider booking a Next Steps Sandbox session. I’ll meet you wherever you are now, help you name where you want to go, and put your next steps in your very own Developer Sandbox.

That way, you can actually take those steps—and the next ones, and the next, until “done” finally feels real.

Welcome back to B is for Book Coach. I’m B, midwife of big ideas and book development partner for writers and non-writers alike. And for the next few minutes, you are my author.

Don’t worry. That doesn’t commit you to anything more than what you’re doing right in this moment. Because the best authors are simply people who show up as themselves, for themselves and for their readers.

Today, we’re making space for developing.

Enjoying this space? Want to dig deeper?

Consider booking a Next Steps Sandbox session. I’ll meet you wherever you are now, help you name where you want to go, and put your next steps in your very own Developer Sandbox.

That way, you can actually take those steps—and the next ones, and the next, until “done” finally feels real.

Today, I spent some time in my Developer Sandbox, working more on the underlying framework of my business and the offers I create for my people.

This isn’t the first personal working session I’ve recorded, so if you want to see another video of real-time use of this development environment, just reply to let me know. I’ll send you the link.

In this session, I came in feeling a bit of the Monday blues.

I have had some incredible moments with the authors and business owners and professionals who have made their way to me.

And I have had some really low moments where I’ve wondered if I’ll have the stamina to find the authors and business owners and professionals who still need me.

I mean, when LinkedIn is tanking views and social media is not your forte and you really just want to be doing the work, it feels like every single interaction counts.

That, or you’ll have to create more interactions, and that’s not at all where you want your energy to go.

And by “you,” I mean “me.”

I could have done a lot of things with that frustration.

I could have ranted (more). I could have posted something unhinged (again). I could have fallen into an AI pit and spun up some confirmation bias to either soothe me or reinvent everything (no thanks).

Instead, I opened my Developer Sandbox because I know it’s set up to facilitate real progress.

I saw my options—a CRM that could help me reach out to people, a visibility database that could inspire me to create new content, positioning worksheets that could help me dig deeper…

And a set of customer journey maps, built one layer of experience at a time, that could bring it all together.

I didn’t really have an agenda when I opened this page. I just wanted to get more grounded in my offers.

I had just wrapped up a Next Steps session that set two amazing authors up inside of their own Sandbox.

I had so much fun and they made so much progress that I really just wanted to figure out how to help more people see themselves in that service.

All while fully understanding that it’s a weird service that no one really has a frame of reference for.

As soon as I opened the page, all of that internal chatter and all of the worry it came with settled down until I could get really present with the task at hand.

That task? To keep refining what I’d said until all that was left was the truth.

Right away, I could see the column that held my personal experience wasn’t telling the whole truth.

So I started to refine it. Here is where I landed…at least for now:

I spent years trying to find a home within the industry…any part of the industry, really. I could tell I was doing good things with my work and clients, and I thought the next level of growth was going to come from someone else making that growth possible.

Over the years, even the worst situations taught me something. And because I thought that’s all there was—that I had no other options—I made the most of them.

I worked from within other people’s systems, followed their processes, tried to fix them from the inside.

And I really did learn SO much.

But in a lot of those places, there was also very real harm happening. It would take a long time for me to realize that harm wasn’t necessary.

Meanwhile, my unique strengths and approach kept getting reflected back to me as more effective than whatever box I was in.

Still, it took me SO LONG to even name my own processes, much less stand in my own point of view. And it took even longer to use those processes and point of view for myself.

I really was holding back, hoping to find the “right” way—something that would validate or amplify my work for me.

But it’s impossible to amplify something that’s been withheld.

So, I doubled down on the spaces I was in, trying to make my own expertise and what I knew to be effective shape those systems.

I tried adding coaching and cognitive or emotional support processes to rigorous editorial spaces.

I tried to bring narrative theory to outcome-focused spaces.

I refused to push authors when they needed room to expand.

I developed/pitched/advocated for processes that would protect the vision and mission of those organizations so that they could keep supporting their people (and therefore keep me paid).

Deep down, I wanted them to thrive so that I had a place to stay “safe.”

Over time, I found myself bending those systems to match what I knew was effective.

Weirdly, I was bending the process while still acting as though the rules were rigid.

For that to happen, at least part of me had to know that I knew what to do.

Even though I was still looking for safety inside of someone else’s expertise, I was getting more comfortable with my own.

I just had to grow into acknowledging it.

For a long time, I wanted to stay in other systems for safety and validation. (Sometimes, I still do.) But I gradually started to find I couldn’t take jobs or promotions that didn’t allow me the agency to make decisions from that place of earned expertise.

Then the systems started to push back.

They didn’t want to bend or change, even if it was in service of their mission/purpose. (Probably because I was reading my own mission/purpose into theirs, and we didn’t actually hold the same values.)

Either way, the “framework” of the systems wasn’t actually giving me safety. In fact, they were starting to become a threat. And that can mess with your head. Then it messed with my income.

In 2023, the company that held half my income collapsed.

Between my own point of view and the burnout that comes from workplace trauma, I realized I couldn’t fit into any other jobs in the industry. I had to stand on my own, inside of a business that I hadn’t really structured as a business.

The feeling that I didn’t belong got loud.

But so was my desire to do this work anyway.

So I started to (slowly) name what “this work” even was.

What parts of it mattered and why couldn’t I just give it up? If I couldn’t give it up, that had to mean I belonged…somewhere. (Right?)

The last time I tried to apply to a “safe” job, it was a Penguin-Random House imprint. It was a long shot, so my first attempt was really measured and careful.

Until I realized h…

 When you’re working on something that matters, right? Something that you know in your gut could change the world—or at least your corner of it.

Something you’re willing to put your name (and years of reputation and experience) behind and hand it to the people you know it could impact most.

When you’re working on something like that—and it still isn’t done? Things can feel a little bleak out here.

Because everywhere you look, there are systems and programs and thought leaders and influencers telling you to “just do the thing.” And if you could have just done it already, you would have.

Maybe you’ve tried program after program, template after template, software after software, approach after approach, hoping that this next one will finally be the one that clicks it all into place.

But you know too much to let something shallow stand in for something real.

There’s something about this book, this business, this brand that deserves more of your thought and attention than “just get it done” allows—and probably more uninterrupted time and space than you have to give right now.

And listen, I believe that you absolutely could get that thing done as soon as you have enough time and space to do it.

But I also know that the weight of someday is heavy.

It’s there when you can’t stop thinking about this idea.

It’s there when you pull up your notes in the middle of doing something else because another thought came through.

It’s there when someone else publishes their book, launches their thing, or steps into a level of growth that just reminds you of what you are still carrying.

And every time you say, “When I have the bandwidth, I’ll get to this,” that thing takes up more bandwidth.

The open questions are still there. The decisions you haven’t made yet are still there. The possibilities are still there.

That’s why I don’t start by telling you how to get the thing done.

I start by asking, “What does done even look like?”

It doesn’t matter how I define done. It doesn’t matter what published looks like or what launched looks like. What matters is what you want this thing to do for you and for the people it’s meant to reach.

Those are the two questions behind the Visibility Spectrum.

They’re simple questions, even if they’re not always easy to answer. But when you are able to, something really important changes.

Having a definition of what this thing is here to do gives you a way to make decisions in that direction.

It shows you what belongs and what doesn’t belong—what needs more development and doesn’t need more development.

Does this help someone else get where they want to go? Is it moving me toward the place I want to go? What can wait and what matters right now?

The point of the Visibility Spectrum is to give you an axis for everything else to rotate around, no matter how quickly your life or your brain or your project or your work is moving right now.

I’m not gonna tell you what this thing should be, but I will help you define what it means to get this done right—so that you’re not chasing a moving target every time you sit down to think about this project.

And listen: If for any reason you can’t answer one or both of those questions just yet, that’s useful information too.

It tells us where the development work actually needs to begin.

Because the weight of potential is already heavy, and even more so when you’re carrying every single possibility at once.

So don’t.

Start with two questions.

Define what done means for you and for this idea.

And then we can see what actually deserves your attention next…and next…and next.

So. Welcome to this space.

I’m so glad you’re here.

Go take the Visibility Spectrum quiz, and if you need more support after that, just reach out.

I’ll meet you there.

Welcome back to B is for Book Coach. I’m B, midwife of big ideas and book development partner for writers and non-writers alike. Today, we’re making space for choices.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to be put in a box.

The older I get, the more I see and experience, the less I think any of us can fit into simple categories. The same goes for our work or projects.

- The Visibility Spectrum (I recommend taking the quiz or grabbing a mini session.)

- Approaching a project as an author vs approaching it as a reader

- Shaping experiences around ideas starts by naming what we want that experience to be

- Finding where we can flex

- The Spectrum as reflection, not restraints

- What changes when we build from intention- The space we need to make for development* Are you drinking your own kool aid?* Where have you made yourself wrong just for showing up? * Do you have enough space? If not, can I get you set up in a Sandbox?

Enjoying this space? It takes all of us to create it together! When you become a one-time or ongoing Momentum Partner, two things happen.First, you get to join a small but growing group of folks who pop in for Office Hours to sort out their ideas and travel this journey together.

Second, you add to the Mutual Momentum fund, which helps to bring deeper development support to authors who need more than just space to get started.

Create a one-time boost of Momentum or subscribe to keep the forward movement going for us all.

Welcome back to B is for Book Coach. Today, we’re making space for empathy.

Some of the best concepts and tools I’ve ever learned for writing weren’t for writing at all. They were for education, decision-making, personal growth, and the process of change.

So when someone asks me a question about a “memoir” or a “business book,” I can’t really answer.

Genre alone doesn’t tell us enough about what the book is actually meant to do.

Ultimately, the Visibility Spectrum is an empathy tool, giving serious consideration to both the author and reader’s needs in everything we create.

Stage 1: ROY Meets Us Where We Are

Stage 2: The Grues Show Us Who the Author Is

Stage 3: The Murky Violets Show Us What Can Be

Enjoying this space? It takes all of us to create it together! When you become a one-time or ongoing Momentum Partner, two things happen.

First, you get to join a small but growing group of folks who pop in for Office Hours twice a month to sort out their content and travel this journey together.

Second, you add to the Mutual Momentum fund, which helps to bring deeper development support to authors who need more than just space to get started.

You can create a one-time boost of Momentum or subscribe to keep the forward movement going for us all.

Welcome back to B is for Book Coach. Today, we’re making space for experiences.

- Industrial categories don’t do a lot for intuitive processes.

- We’re creating experiences, not products.

- Human experiences don’t fit neatly into boxes, and books are no exception.

- The Visibility Spectrum is our constant reminder that books are a point of connection, not a commodity.

They are two-way experiences that can’t fully be controlled.

They are slow to make, slow to consume, and will almost certainly outlive us.

When we honor books for what they truly are, we can create better conditions for that experience to take shape. And then, at least in spaces like these, we can experience better conditions while creating them.

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What does it actually take to develop a craft?

In this conversation with Alice Sudlow and Kim Kessler of Novel Atelier, we’ll dig into the Renaissance workshop model they follow, why psychological safety is a prerequisite for growth, and how we can survive this algorithmic digital dark age together.

This is a bit longer than our usual episodes here, and it’s clearly my first run at a video format. I do hope you’ll stick with us, though, because we’re unpacking so much more than the ins and outs of a fiction space.

The story under the story is that Kim and I met when she was new to Scribe Media but a year+ into her time at Story Grid just as I was new to Story Grid and well-worn in my time at Scribe.

If you aren’t knee deep in writing industry gossip, both of those companies have now had very public meltdowns (public to this niche, anyway).

But we were never in those spaces for those spaces. Not really.

We were there for the authors. The stories. The art of story. The people who had gathered for similar reasons. The nerdy analysis. The power and potential.

We were there for each other.

And we stayed that way, zooming endlessly all throughout COVID, and eventually bringing Alice into our “Epic Work Sesh” or “Big Ol’ Zoom Session” lines for, honestly, most hours of the day.

The more we showed up for each other, the more we grew as practitioners and as people. The more we grew, the clearer our purpose became, the less any of the other stuff mattered.

Though, let’s be clear: it has been the challenge of my life to survive getting kicked out of the nest when Scribe collapsed, and it is a grief-riddled mess to watch Story Grid go through a similar shake-up. It hasn’t been easy. But it has always been clear that our work is far bigger than the containers we first found it in.

And the work itself is what this conversation is about.

You’ll hear very little about the drama, the meltdowns, the inside scoops that any of us could give you at any moment.

Just like I remind my authors (looking VERY closely at you, Magentas and Yellows), the salacious details aren’t what matters. Not only do we not owe a single person the hardest parts of our stories—often, those aren't the parts that a person needs anyway.

Instead, you’ll see what we’ve forged from that fire.

You’ll hear our passion for the authors, the art of story, the nerdy analysis, and each other. You’ll hear what we’re building out of the ashes, alongside each other, for you.

And you’ll be reminded, once again, that there is a space for you. Fiction or nonfiction. Polished or messy. Career author with a stack of book ideas to wade through or reluctant drafter with a brilliant life to protect as you write.

You’ve got this.

And we’ve got you.

I believe we’re already in a digital dark age, and I believe even harder in our ability to reimagine our own renaissance. Learn more about what’s possible for nonfiction with me and fiction with the Novel Atelier. And as always, you are welcome to subscribe to B is for Book Coach right here, on Substack, or wherever your podcasts are found—now (finally!) available on YouTube, as well.

Welcome back to B is for Book Coach. I’m B, midwife of big ideas and book development partner for writers and non-writers alike. Today, we’re making space for seeing.

There is power in sharing our perspective.

There is power in being able to choose which perspectives we adopt as part of our own.

And that power compounds when we share our perspective with an open hand, knowing that not everyone will choose it.

That’s where Purple books come in—the Signature Perspective book type on the Clarity Spectrum—from an author who trusts their perspective enough to know that it’s worth sharing, and trusts the reader to decide whether or not they agree.

- The gift and challenge of Purple books

- Writing with an open hand

- Facing the fear of rejection

- Choosing validation vs impact

- The assurance we have that no other authors before us could claim

Enjoying this space? It takes all of us to create it together! When you become a one-time or ongoing Momentum Partner, two things happen.

First, you get to join a small but growing group of folks who pop in for Office Hours twice a month to sort out their content and travel this journey together.

Second, you add to the Mutual Momentum fund, which helps to bring deeper development support to authors who need more than just space to get started.

Create a one-time boost of Momentum or subscribe to keep the forward movement going for us all.

Welcome back to B is for Book Coach. Today, we’re making space for trying.

This past week, my family and I took the opportunity to see the musical Hadestown in movie theaters. If you haven’t spent the last several years obsessing over this musical with me...

- The story of Orpheus and Eurydice

- The parallels to art and life and love and revolution

- The new angle I caught in the movie theater

- The real hell of creative work

- How Hadestown shows us the way

Enjoying this space? It takes all of us to create it together! When you become a one-time or ongoing Momentum Partner, two things happen.

First, you get to join a small but growing group of folks who pop in for Office Hours twice a month to sort out their content and travel this journey together.

Second, you add to the Mutual Momentum fund, which helps to bring deeper development support to authors who need more than just space to get started.

Create a one-time boost of Momentum or subscribe to keep the forward movement going for us all.

Welcome back to a special edition of B is for Book Coach. In these episodes, I’m reading through pieces of You Don’t Get to the Ocean by Accident—the workbook version of the early work I do with all of my authors.

If you want to follow along or jump ahead, pocket-sized copies are available on Amazon, and every Substack subscriber gets a fillable PDF copy as well.

Today, we’re reading from: The Power of You.

Enjoying this space? It takes all of us to create it together! When you become a one-time or ongoing Momentum Partner, two things happen.

First, you get to join a small but growing group of folks who pop in for Office Hours twice a month to sort out their content and travel this journey together.

Second, you add to the Mutual Momentum fund, which helps to bring deeper development support to authors who need more than just space to get started.

Create a one-time boost of Momentum or subscribe to keep the forward movement going for us all.