Publishers are looking for certain genres to fill their quotas. They demand authors and characters who readers like. My advice (or just one piece of it), is don’t write to be liked. Write to be honest and then twist the truth about events just enough so nothing can be pinned on you.

The moment you start softening your characters to make them more palatable—or shaping your plot around what you think will offend the fewest people—you lose the electricity that makes a story matter.

The books that stay with readers aren’t the safest ones. They’re the ones that take a stance. The ones that let a woman be ambitious without apologising. The ones that refuse to tidy up the moral mess at the end. The ones which make them laugh. The ones which make them cry. The ones that make them angry.

Also—finish the book. Brilliance doesn’t live in half-drafted chapters and perfectly curated outlines. It lives in the messy middle where you’re convinced you’ve lost the plot and should probably quit. Push through that part. That’s where your voice sharpens.

Write the story that scares you a little. That’s usually the one worth finishing.

Close your laptop and know that you’ve been true to yourself.

Onwards and upwards.