The Book I HAD to Write Paul Zakrzewski

Last year, I came across an essay called “Book Publishing is Broken” by today’s podcast guest, Kathleen Schmidt .
Using her decades of experience in book PR & strategy, Kathleen laid out several reasons why traditional publishing fails writers. (If you haven’t already read that post, you’ll get to hear Kathleen’s reasons in our interview).
And the essay really stood out…not just because Kathleen presented solutions to the problems she diagnosed…but also because her perspective was clear-sighted, well-informed, but also so honest, direct, and personal.
I’ve been hooked on Publishing Confidential , Kathleen’s Substack newsletter, ever since. With over 5,000 subscribers, I think of it as one of the must-reads for any writer looking to understand today’s publishing landscape.
In our interview, we talk about that landscape, about the utility of hiring an independent publicist, and the value of creating work that reaches beyond traditional media outlets.
We also discuss why memoirs are one of the hardest categories for agents to sell right now, and what authors can consider to make their books more marketable.
Kathleen Schmidt is the Founder and President of Kathleen Schmidt Public Relations, a boutique firm specializing in branding, PR, marketing, consulting, and business strategy for authors, publishers, and booksellers. She also writes and publishes the Publishing Confidential newsletter.
Warning: this episode includes a brief mention of suicidal ideation. If you or someone you love is struggling with a mental health crisis, you can contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). (In Spanish, dial 1-888-628-9454). 
Some of my biggest takeaways:
Publishing too many books and lack of marketing support are primary reasons why the industry struggles.
Publishers produce more books than the market can sustain, often neglecting to back many with substantial marketing efforts. "They publish far too many books," Schmidt states unequivocally. It's a perplexing situation that challenges authors and industry insiders alike. The ramifications of this are profound—not just for the discoverability and success of individual titles but for the long-term sustainability of publishing entities themselves.
Schmidt expresses her consternation over the lack of direction regarding advances and acquisitions: "It's all kind of garbled and I feel like if you're not able to pay authors an amount that they can live on, what are we doing?" These pivotal industry dynamics are not just numbers on a spreadsheet but represent the livelihoods of creatives whose stories shape our culture.
Authors need to participate actively in the marketing and publicity of their books, using strategies tailored to their specific audience.
In the digital age, a robust social media presence is often considered non-negotiable. But where should authors concentrate their efforts? Schmidt advocates for targeted strategies—"find where your audience lives when they're not reading books"—and identifies threads and Instagram as effective platforms. However, she aptly recognizes that "every author should do" does not mean straitjacketing all writers into a one-size-fits-all approach. Instead, authors need to be authentic, engage with their readers, and leverage digital surrogates when necessary to carry their message.
Schmidt's distinction between pitch-focused publicity versus sales-driven strategies underscores the complexity of book marketing in the current landscape. "I am the publicist who thinks about how are we going to sell the book?" she poses, aligning author success with commercial viability and practical application.
Memoir faces challenges due to market oversaturation and authors should consider additional angles to be sellable.
The realm of memoir publishing is undergoing profound change, leaving many authors pondering the fate of their personal stories. With the market oversaturated by similar stories, distinguishing

In this converation with memoirist Abigail Thomas, we discuss the backstory of writing Safekeeping, and that now-classic memoir was initially turned down by all the editors the book was sent, except for one. 
We talk about how crafting a memoir-in-fragments like Safekeeping allows a writer to depict memories in a way a more conventional structure doesn’t permit. She talks about why writing what you don’t remember is as important as what you do; and the value of following what interests and obsesses you, even if it doesn't seem to go anywhere at first.
Thomas’s is one of the great voices in memoir—shrewd, warm, devoid of self-pity—and like all wise teachers, she imparts insights about a life well spent, even when talking about a book well-crafted.
This conversation was recorded in 2022 and just updated.
Abigail Thomas is the author of several memoirs, including Safekeeping, A Three Dog Life, What Comes Next and How to Like it, and most recently Still Life at Eighty, as well as three works of fiction: Getting Over Tom, An Actual Life, and Herb’s Pajamas.
Some of my biggest takeaways
“Chronological order makes little sense to me…”
Most of Thomas’s memoirs eschew the conventional chronological approach, opting instead for fragmented structures that mirror the way memory works. Abigail Thomas believes that "life has been lived like a series of moments," and memoirs are stronger when they reflect that.
"Well, I will confess that I have a poor memory, except for the things I remember. So putting them in chronological order makes very little sense to me. It's why this now? Why am I thinking of this now? Why this memory? Write it down. You'll find out why. The trick is not to boss them around, you know. Just let them come, and they will."
This memoir-in-fragments approach unexpectedly draws the reader in
Safekeeping, for example, is comprised of dozens of short sections—some four or five pages, others as brief as a single sentence. Then there’s the narrator herself, frequently switching between past and present tense, or between first- and third-person.
With all that lack of connective tissue, all that shifting of tenses and point-of-view, you’d expect the narrative flow to be constantly disrupted. Instead this approach creates a genuine connection with readers, in part because it invites them to piece together the narrative puzzle
The key to writing a great memoir-in-fragments is to have a strong, unified voice
Married for the first time at 18, remarried at 27—Abigail Thomas’s life was full of wrong turns. She had a lot of living under her belt. Yet the narrator here keeps things light and crisp, avoiding self-judgment. Instead, here the persona is vulnerable, startlingly honest, unsentimental, wry, and above all, entertaining.
In The Situation and the Story, Vivian Gornick writes that great memoirs feature a “truth-telling” narrator. We trust the voices of George Orwell, Annie Dillard, or James Baldwin because they seem so honest and self-aware. Thomas’s narrator is one of these.
"The more vulnerable you make yourself, the stronger you become”
Thomas urges writers to be honest and vulnerable, since revealing truths about oneself tends to have a liberating effect. This openness serves as a conduit through which readers can see their truths reflected in the author’s life, reinforcing the fact we all tend to feel similar things inside.
The key is to write without an agenda—to connect with an emotion and let go of outcomes.
“You need to write about the stuff you don't wanna write about…[but] you have to find a side door, and it isn't therapy. Writing isn't therapy. But if you're truthful, and honest, and write what you need to write, it has the effect of you've made something out of it separate from yourself, you've revealed things to yourself about yourself, and it's a way of forgiving yourself, you know, and others.”
“The past is every bit as unpredictable as the future”
The unpre

In this episode, I talk with author, musician and audio producer Chérie Newman about her humorous experiences pet-sitting unruly critters during the pandemic. The need to turn this one-time side hustle into a fulltime gig coincided with a more sobering reality: the way that wealthy out-of-state residents reshaped her hometown of Bozeman, Montana.
Newman merges both stories into her debut memoir, Other People’s Pets: Critters, Careers, and Capitalism in Yellowstone Country. We also discuss her highly focused approach to writing, which helped her complete a first draft of her memoir in 83 days. And we delve into her decision to pursue an unconventional publishing route, one that allowed her to retain control and profits, and permitted her to get her book out quickly.
Chérie Newman is a former producer and and on-air host for Montana Public Radio, and a freelance writer. She founded a weekly literary program, The Write Question, which is still broadcast on several public radio stations, and her articles and essays have appeared in many publications. She is the owner of Magpie Audio Productions, and produces The Book I Had to Write podcast.
Some of my biggest takeaways:
Chérie was compelled to write Other People's Pets less as a typical “feel good” story and more to explore the humorous challenges of corraling disobedient pets—and her own deep connection to animals.
In this interview, Newman describes how she set about writing her memoir after frequently hearing from friends that she ought to record her stories. But while the unexpected challenges she faced pet-sitting unruly dogs made for humorous stories, the reality of her job sometimes left her unmoored. "I came away from this year of intense pet sitting with a little bit of PTSD," she says.
The pandemic brought about immediate and dramatic changes to Bozeman, Montana as real estate prices soared and community dynamics shifted.
Newman's memoir addresses some of the significant societal shifts she saw in her home city of Bozeman, Montana during the pandemic. And our interview highlights rapid socioeconomic changes, with real estate prices doubling and the influx of people seeking “the last best place,” as writer William Kittredge dubbed Montana.
One of the drivers of this influx was no doubt a glorified depiction of Montana in shows like Yellowstone, which don’t have a lot of basis in reality, at least as Newman sees it. She juxtaposes media depictions of Montana with some of starker realities for long-term residents.
People were moving here so fast that there was no place for anybody to live. We started getting, for the first time, rows and rows of RVs parked on streets that were near places that were going to be subdivisions but weren't yet. And it was just insanity.
This phenomenon, fueled by the pandemic, led to a bifurcation of the local community where “there's a lot of animosity between people who've lived here for a long time and people who've moved in.”
Newman set an ambitious and structured writing goal, completing the first draft of her book in less than her goal of 90 days…
While Other People’s Pets isn’t Newman’s first attempt at a book, it’s one she was able to draft in record speed, thanks in part to her discipline of setting a writing schedule of (at least) 90 minutes a day for 90 days, and the transformational journey of taking that manuscript through numerous drafts.
And so there were some times when it would be 7.30 at night and I still hadn't done my 90 minutes, but because I had this little chart on the wall and I was making, I was ticking off….I committed to those 90 days, and I committed to those 90 minutes, and I wasn't gonna let bad self-confidence defeat me.
…But the book really came together in revisions.
In this interview we also discuss the ways Newman’s approach mimicked but also diverged from strategies such as one recommended by Allison K. Williams in her book Seven Drafts: Self-Edit Like a Pro from B

In this episode, I talk with author, professor, journalist, and rabbi Jay Michaelson. After publishing nine other books of nonfiction and poetry, and hundreds of stories for publications like Rolling Stone, The Daily Beast, and New York magazine, Michaelson has just come out with his first work of fiction, The Secret That's Not a Secret.
We discuss the nearly 20-year journey behind the writing of this book, and how the tensions between sexuality and religious beliefs in the lives of its Orthodox Jewish characters reflect some of Jay’s own journey.
As an expert on Kabbalah and heretical (historic) figures like Jacob Frank, Michaelson has made a career of carving out a space for mystical imagination beyond patriarchy and heteronormativity.
Finally, we also talk about how writers pick between esoteric and more mainstream topics when choosing between book projects, and how current events—including the rise of authoritarianism and the Oct 7th Hamas attacks— reveal and the intersection of religion and politics today.
Some of my biggest takeaways
* Writing fiction gave Jay Michaelson access to describing experiences and inner states not always accessible through nonfiction.
Michaelson began the first versions of some of these stories almost 20 years ago, and he’s written 8 books of nonfiction alongside the development of this collection.
And though those books deal with many of the same subjects—Jewish mysticism, the interplay between sexuality and religion, and so on—he was able to depict their inner reality in ways that feel deeper or more liberating than he was able to in nonfiction:
I now have written [several] non-fiction books and hundreds of articles. And that does come very naturally and easily to me. And yet I really feel like…this really is the book I'm the most proud of. It feels the closest to my way of seeing the world, even though it's fiction…And I think a lot of that is that….there's a lot of imagination in this book and that was so freeing.
* The book represents Jay's own journey of self-discovery and the evolution of the stories over two decades.
Michaelson talks about the fact that when he started writing these stories, he himself was closeted—not just sexually, but in terms of his ability to be honest with himself about the writing he wanted the freedom to do:
“When I was finishing up college, deciding what I wanted to be when I grew up, there were two main choices on the agenda. My experience of the closet for me was, it wasn't just about sexuality. It was like closeted from all kinds of desires.
And so for me, it was like being an English lit professor or being a lawyer and trying to save the world. And being a writer….that was like the dream that wasn't mine to reach for.”
* The book delves into the tension within Orthodox Jewish communities and their potential for spiritual liberation.
Recent American Jewish fiction has featured plenty of Orthodox Jewish characters, but most often these depict people who have left the restrictive confines of their faith.
By contrast, the characters in this collection remain in their Orthodox environment, but are seeking spiritual and sexual liberation:
"[The stories] deal with gay orthodox men who are wrestling, sometimes quite literally, with the tension between their sexuality and their religious beliefs."
By focusing on the sensory details and physical depictions of these struggles, Michaelson transforms abstract spiritual conflicts into immersive experiences.
* This book’s exploration of Kabbalistic thought is connected to Michaelson’s previous scholarship on heretical figures like Sabbatai Zevi (1626-1676) and Jacob Frank (1726-1791).
The interview also touches upon Michaelson's broader academic and journalistic work, which considers the significance of Jacob Frank and other heretics who diverged from orthodox religious traditions. It suggests that these historical figures may reflect a desire for a spiritual revolution that could have las

Last fall, administrators at Gettysburg College announced the shuttering of the prestigious Gettysburg Review. This just seemed like the latest in a long string of magazines and journals that have closed the past few years.
Curious about what’s going on, I called Travis Kurowski, a leading expert on literary magazines, to help me understand what was happening. Today’s podcast features the interview we recorded in the immediate aftermath of the news last October.
But, Kurowski, who has also appeared on CNN.com and elsewhere, was able to shed light on broader themes and trends. We discuss why an entire ecosphere of literary journals—supported for nearly 100 years by institutions of higher ed—may also be in deep trouble.
And we explore the ways in which recent tech has changed reading habits, and why that will continue to doom some journals, even as others are adapting themselves to stay relevant to 21st century literary culture.
This conversation is well worth listening to for anyone who wants to publish in—or is concerned about the well-being and future of—literary magazines and journals.
Some of my biggest takeaways from this interview
* Outside prestige isn’t enough to save storied journals like The Gettysburg Review.
While many writers took to social media to point out that most of the world wouldn’t know about Gettysburg College if it wasn’t for the Review, that argument didn’t seem to matter much to administrators.
The problem was, rather, one of economics…and the readiness with which both college administrators and corporate interests are willing to cut arts funding.
As with pretty much every business in the world, the pandemic gutted operating revenues at Gettysburg; it has been running significant deficits recently—a $6.7 million deficit in 2021 alone.
When the college was looking for expense lines to cut, they focused on those (like the Review) which, they claimed, didn’tdirectly enhance student life.
That last argument is a highly dubious one, by the way. Plenty of students learned a ton about literary publishing thanks to helping to produce the Review over the years. But this is the story that the administrators told themselves and the rest of us.
* The sustainability of literary journals—especially those connected with colleges and universities—feels more fragile than ever.
Literary journals have been associated with higher ed for almost a century. Often these journals were seen as prestige projects, aimed at enhancing the institutions beyond its walls—even as these journals were often subject to the vagaries of institutional budgets, priorities, and department allegiances.
"Literary journals have been on higher education campuses for...almost 100 years now...and sometimes they get cut from the budgets," Kurowski says.
The difference today? Higher ed is facing greater economic pressures than ever before. Bloated administrations and a major decrease in enrollments—what Kurowski calls “the cliff of 18-year-olds”—are shrinking budgets.
And with college and university budgets facing bleak prospects for the foreseeable future, the days of university-funded literary journals and similar prestige projects may be behind us.
* Many literary journals haven’t adapted to the digital “literary economy”…and they’re getting left behind.
It won’t be news that the way we consume media has radically changed even in the span of a decade or two.
With the advent of the internet and mobile technology, readers have migrated, en masse, to the digital landscape.
And that has major implications for old-school print literary journals:
“You walk down any hallway, anywhere in your house, right? And we're just staring at their phones. We’re reading differently, we’re writing differently, we’re talking differently online. But our literary journals kind of look the same as they did 50 or 70 years ago,” Kurowski says.
By way of example, Kurowski points out that when he went to look at

Why would anyone want to jumpstart their memoir? For one thing, you’re tasked with plumbing your memory for sometimes difficult material. Added to that is the burden of turning out writing that often feels underwhelming—so much less than we know we can do. For recovering perfectionists, the combination can be daunting.
In today’s episode of The Book I Had to Write, UK-based author Amity Reed and I discuss strategies for starting a book that we picked up at a recent generative memoir bootcamp led by writing coach Katie Bannon.
(Learn more about Katie Bannon by reading her post, 5 Reasons To Write Your Taboo Stories, or her reported essay, “I couldn’t stop pulling my hair, What was wrong with me?” published recently in the Washington Post).
We talk about the importance of staying in drafting mode, letting go of perfectionist tendencies, the benefit of doing plenty of “scaffolding” before writing, and embracing a flexible approach to structure. We also discuss the value of accountability and finding a writing practice that works for your schedule and temperament.
Amity Reed is an author and midwife. Her first book was called Overdue. It’s part memoir and part manifesto—a look at her experiences in maternity care in the UK. She’s currently working on a second book, also a memoir. She lives on the south coast of England with her husband and two children. 
Some of our biggest insights and takeaways
Keep focusing on lower the stakes: In an episode two weeks ago, described being a “recovering perfectionist.” I can cop to that label too. In my case, it meant spending more than my fair share of time over the years writing and rewriting beginnings and then running out of time; or else not really getting to the things I most wanted to.
How ‘slowing down and letting go’ helps with perfectionism: Amity talks about how, at one point, she felt the need to have a perfectly polished sections before moving forward. But she realized this approach hindered her progress. One big transformation happened when she embraced the idea that writing a memoir is a long-term commitment, and that it will take time.
Scaffolding exercises really help—even if you haven’t written a word of your book. Katie’s generative memoir bootcamp was filled with exercises to help participants better understand the building blocks of literary memoir. We came up with character traits, sketched out possible narrative arcs, and developed a potential list of key scenes, among others.
One big takeaway from the week is that doing some planning work even at the beginning stages of drafting can be incredibly helpful in both sharpening the focus and creating more of an arc from the outset.
Your book’s structure is going to evolve…if you let it. In our conversation, Amity describes how, initially, she tried to force her writing into a predetermined structure. But she soon realized that it was constraining her creativity. With guidance from Katie Bannon, Amity explored alternative structures, drawing inspiration from art, poetry, and philosophy. She learned that the structure doesn't have to be explicitly spelled out for the reader but can be an implicit guide for her writing process.
Build in some accountability through co-writing groups and some kind of writing schedule. Accountability is crucial for writers, especially when working on a long-term project like a memoir. Amity says found support and accountability through Zoom writing groups that provided her with a place to share progress, set goals, and hold each other accountable.
As for me, I recently signed up for a co-writing “container”—a Zoom co-writing group, led by author , that meets three times a week for two hours over 12 weeks. It’s still early days, but I’ve found that knowing I have to show up at least those hours every week has allowed me to produce many more super-rough pages than I would’ve otherwise during a very busy time.
Further reading/discussed on the show