On Writing and Storytelling: A Pause in the Writing Front…but Marketing is Ongoing

Friday, July 31, 2026 – Orlando, Florida

Hi, everyone.

I’m taking a break from working on a new story. Since March 2023, I’ve written three Jim Garraty-centric works (Reunion: Coda, Comings and Goings – The Art of Being Seen, and The Summer of Two Movies), revised one for publication (Reunion: A Story), and assembled an omnibus that collects all four (The Jim Garraty Chronicles). That’s a lot of writing, editing, and revising in three years, especially when you consider that I also try to write a daily post in this space. So, yes, I’m tired. I need a brief sabbatical from the tasks of “worldbuilding,” sifting through my memories for future story ideas, creating vivid concrete details and naturalistic dialogue, and — the hardest part of all — putting it all out there in book form and hoping readers will purchase, read, and, most importantly, enjoy my imaginative scribblings.

That, of course, does not mean I’m taking a vacation from every aspect of independent publishing. Books don’t sell themselves, and independent authors don’t have the massive, effective marketing support from Big Publishing that helped make Jennifer Egan, Jodi Picault, Danielle Steel, James Patterson, and Stephen King literary brand names. Instead, I have to do more than write and edit my work. I have to market it, too.

I’m not fond of the business side of writing. I’m at my very best — and happiest — when I’m doing what I call “Professional Dreaming.” It’s not the easiest part of the process, this act of plucking characters, memories, locations — real and imaginary — and other story elements from the subconscious, then asking your brain to send them to your fingers, to the keyboard, and onto the computer screen, usually one word at a time. There’s a lot of trial and error, daydreaming, frustration, creative euphoria, existential angst, hope, fear, anticipation, and self-doubt involved. And coffee. Lots of coffee.

And as much as I dislike the negative emotions that accompany the Writing Phase of any project I take on, I’m thrilled when, at the end of a writing day, I look over that day’s batch of fresh copy and notice that a particular element — a descriptive passage, a setting, a specific turn of phrase, or a conversation between two or more characters — works the way I hoped it would. As Han Solo once said to Princess Leia, “You know, sometimes I amaze even myself.” Especially when a line of dialogue or a character beat comes across as real and true rather than as literary artifice.

It’s those “Wow, did I really write this?” moments that I love about writing. And if those joyful moments were all I wanted out of storytelling, I’d have fewer frown lines on my forehead and more restful nights.

But the truth is that ever since I was a boy — possibly when I was still a precocious fifth grader at Tropical Elementary in Miami a half-century ago, but most certainly after I turned 15 and truly set out on my writer’s journey after discovering both Stephen King’s novels and George Lucas’s Star Wars — I’ve wanted to make a living as a scribbler of tales. And because the traditional path to publication is a nerve-racking and demanding odyssey, I chose the perplexingly harder route of self-publishing. It lets me circumvent some Big Publishing obstacles, such as having my books vetted by literary editors and assessed for marketability, but it also places the heavy burden of selling them squarely on my shoulders.

I’ve never been good at selling things — just ask anyone who knew me when I was a Cub Scout in Miami’s Pack 396 and had to hawk chocolate bars or raffle tickets to raise money for a cause or earn a skill badge. I couldn’t sell bottled water to a thirsty man in the Sahara.

Alex Diaz-Granados on the topic of “marketing anxiety”

As you know, I’m a writer, not a salesman. I’m not an extrovert, and I’m not especially comfortable asking folks to buy my stories, especially in these strange and troubled times, when rising prices, resentment toward some e-retailers, and general anxiety can affect consumer behavior. I’ve never been good at selling things — just ask anyone who knew me when I was a Cub Scout in Miami’s Pack 396 and had to hawk chocolate bars or raffle tickets to raise money for a cause or earn a skill badge. I couldn’t sell bottled water to a thirsty man in the Sahara.

And yet, writing is my job. I’m good at what I do — I wouldn’t be publishing anything if I believed I was mediocre — and I work long, exhausting, often frustrating hours to offer readers stories that are, as many reviewers have said, “lyrical,” “relatable,” “enjoyable,” and “insightful.” And, of course, earning royalties from those stories is a priority, especially since I, too, have rent and other bills to pay, and my fixed income is too miserly to cover all my expenses.

So, as much as I’d rather spend my entire Writer’s Vacation playing Sea Power or reading more books by other authors, I still need to market my work. It’s hard because of my personal anxieties and shortcomings, and it’s even tougher in a time when an unpopular war with Iran is causing havoc with the global economy. But I must do it, and with limited means — I can’t, for instance, buy ads on Amazon — because it’s part of my chosen career.

Apropos of that…

My friend Juan Carlos Hernandez emailed me last night to ask when the hardcover edition of The Jim Garraty Chronicles is coming out, because he was waiting for that version before ordering a copy. I had to tell him that, for the foreseeable future, the book will be available only in Kindle e-book and paperback editions. Partly because I don’t want to repeat the process of submitting the omnibus’s .kpf file from Kindle Create to Kindle Direct Publishing and redoing the cover, but mostly because I don’t see a long line of prospective readers at my door asking for a $40 hardcover edition. If I had gotten more support from some fans of the original novella when I published Reunion: Coda last year — and the sales to prove it — I would have added a hardcover edition to the Chronicles. I did not, so for now, I’m sticking with the two existing formats.

Juan is possibly one of the most supportive readers of the Jim Garraty saga, along with Meg Learner and a few others, so this morning he wrote back to say that he and his wife, Adria, had ordered the paperback of The Jim Garraty Chronicles. That order will, of course, be counted as an August 2026 sale because of the “print on demand” aspect of indie publishing; KDP doesn’t record the sale until a copy is printed, shipped, and delivered to the reader. Odd but true.

So, if you’ve read and enjoyed any of the Jim Garraty stories — or if you’ve been meaning to give them a try — I’d be grateful if you considered buying one of the existing editions and, if you feel moved to do so, leaving an honest review. Purchases help keep the lights on, and reviews help other readers decide whether Jim’s world is one they might want to visit. Meanwhile, I’ll keep resting, thinking, scribbling notes, and trying to figure out what the next story might be. Because, you know, I’m a writer. It’s what I do.