On Writing and Storytelling: Choosing Craft Over Coddling

Friday, February 27, 2026, Orlando, Florida

Above all else, I consider myself a storyteller.

To be specific, I’m a writer with deep roots in journalism and media criticism, and I’ve dabbled in poetry, screenwriting, and literary fiction. My journey down this winding path began way back in the early 1970s—picture a kid at Tropical Elementary School in Miami, head full of dreams and hands full of scribbled pages. And I intend to keep wandering this road for as long as I’ve got stories to tell.

That means I wear a lot of hats:

• Wordsmith extraordinaire
• Novelist (sometimes fueled by coffee, sometimes by pure stubbornness)
• Writer of short stories and novellas—because sometimes brevity is the soul of wit
• Screenwriter—aiming for the silver screen, or at least the glow of my laptop
• Occasional poet (on rainy days or when inspiration strikes)
• Honest reviewer—no sugarcoating, just straight talk

At the moment, I don’t have a literary agent or a contract with the publishing giants—Penguin Random House, Hachette, Simon & Schuster, Macmillan, or HarperCollins. Maybe someday I’ll conquer the tidal wave of anxiety that hits whenever I even think about sending out query letters or wrestling my manuscripts into the proper format. For now, I’m sticking to my independent author lane, self‑publishing my stories, and waiting for that magical day when I finally overcome my fear of rejection and dive into the world of “TradPub.” Until then, I’ll keep writing, dreaming, and hoping the world is ready for the stories I have yet to share.

As an indie author, I understand the importance of the blogsphere and the need for a supportive group of friends—usually fellow writers, but also readers who understand the writer’s craft even though they may not be authors—to bounce ideas off and be emotionally buoyed by. I also understand the desire for feedback during the creative process before publishing, as well as the all‑important post‑publication phase of getting book reviews and “word of mouth” promotion to boost book sales and earn royalties. I have relied on these things myself with my three Jim Garraty stories—Reunion: A Story, Reunion: Coda, and Comings and Goings – The Art of Being Seen.

When Support Stops Being Support

A few days ago, I had an encounter with a fellow indie author that reminded me why “support” in the blogsphere can sometimes feel like walking through a funhouse mirror maze. Let’s call her Angela.

Angela had just self‑published her debut novel—a book she described with the breathless enthusiasm of someone who’d just discovered fire. Within hours of announcing it, she sent me a message: warm, friendly, and… oddly directive.

First came the cheerful nudge:
“Hey, friend! My book is live! I know you’ll grab a copy—can’t wait to read your glowing review!”

Then came the follow‑up.
And the follow‑up to the follow‑up.

Each one a little more insistent, a little more certain that my role in her creative journey was to buy the book, praise the book, and help her climb the Amazon charts—whether or not the book was ready for daylight.

What made it stranger was that she had also asked for feedback on her novel. I gave her exactly what she said she wanted: an honest, respectful critique grounded in craft. I pointed out strengths, flagged issues, and offered suggestions—the same kind of feedback I’ve relied on for decades.

And then? Silence.

Not a thank you. Not a question. Not even a “I’ll think about it.”

But the sales‑and‑review reminders kept coming, as if honesty were optional but praise was mandatory.

Out of curiosity, I headed over to Amazon and searched for Angela’s book. It already boasted more than ten reviews, nearly all of them awarding five stars. There was a solitary four‑star and a lone three‑star in the mix, presumably to lend balance, but the overall trend was clear.

What struck me most was that every review seemed to lavish praise on Angela’s novel, glossing over any substantive critique of the writing. The issues I’d flagged—whether pacing, characterization, or prose—were nowhere to be found. It felt as if the reviewers were more interested in bolstering Angela’s confidence than offering honest feedback.

It was a small moment, but it crystallized something I’ve seen too often: the expectation that fellow writers should act as cheerleaders, not colleagues. That we should trade five‑star reviews like baseball cards. That “support” means applause, not growth.

Where I Stand

I love supporting indie authors. I’ve bought their books, reviewed them, shared their posts, and cheered their milestones. I’ll keep doing that—gladly—for anyone who wants genuine engagement and honest feedback.

But I will not be part of a mutual admiration society where every book is “amazing,” every draft is “perfect,” and every writer is “ready for prime time” simply because they hit “Publish.” That doesn’t help readers, and it certainly doesn’t help writers grow.

If you want an honest review, I’m your guy.
If you want a five‑star hug regardless of the work on the page, I’m not your audience.

Writing is hard. Publishing is brave. But growth only happens when we tell each other the truth—kindly, respectfully, and without the expectation of applause.