Is Fear Fiction or Nonfiction? Confidence, Cold Calls, and the Dancer Who Almost Quit | The Exceptional Scribble Show, Episode 242

This is the complete interview hour from Richard Lowe’s monthly appearance on episode 242 of The Exceptional Scribble Show with host Sage the Poet, joined by caller Dwayne Drummond, broadcast live on December 18, 2018, lightly edited for readability. Segments outside Richard’s hour are omitted. Historical book counts appear as spoken; current figures are bracketed.

The introduction

Sage the Poet: Tonight, December 18, 2018, episode 242 of The Exceptional Scribble Show. For those literary artists who have been sitting on a book far too long: it’s time to blow the cobwebs off your manuscript. Our feature artist in the spotlight, every third Tuesday, is Richard G. Lowe Jr., The Writing King: bestselling author and ghostwriter, more than 63 books published, more than 16 ghostwritten [113+ authored and 54+ ghostwritten as of 2026], hundreds of blog articles. Welcome, Richard.

Richard Lowe: Thank you. I’m glad to be here.

Sage the Poet: We have a caller: Dwayne Drummond, community activist, educator, writer, and talented poet. Dwayne, would you like to open with a question?

Dwayne Drummond: I just want to ask him: how was his day?

Richard Lowe: How was my day? It actually went pretty well. I wrote a couple of chapters, met with a couple of clients, landed a contract for freelance writing that looks like it’s going to be long-term, and did some coaching. It’s been a pretty productive day. I try to keep them productive; it’s how I make a living. But thank you for asking.

Stop editing, start publishing

Sage the Poet: Richard, share your topic for tonight.

Richard Lowe: Tonight I want to talk about the importance of confidence to writers, and really to anybody in any profession. I do a lot of coaching of writers, and I run into it all the time: writers hesitate because they’re afraid of something, or they have a preconceived idea, and they don’t act.

The simple example: one writer I talk with keeps editing her book over and over and over. Just publish it, or get somebody to read it. But she wants it to be perfect. It’s your first book. It’s not going to be perfect. Just get it out there. What if people hate it? So what if they do? It’s not going to kill you. Write another one. In fact, it’s your first book; they probably are going to hate it, and that happens to all of us. I’ve got a couple of books out there that have sold zero copies. That’s discouraging, but I got them done, they’re out there, and it’s done. When you have 60 books, some don’t sell, and one of mine sold 10,000 copies, so it evens out. But if you don’t publish it, you’re never going to know.

Finish what you’re writing and move on to the next one, rather than agonizing: is every spelling error found, is this phrase perfect, would this character say it this way? Those are important questions while you’re writing, and you do need to proofread. But there’s a point at which you let go and say: I’m done, time to move on. Where that point is depends on your goals. For me, I don’t take over a month of hours to write my own book; ghostwritten books can take six months because it depends on the customer’s availability. Get it done and get it out there, because the sooner it’s out, the sooner you find out whether people like it and whether it makes money.

And here’s the thing about “good enough”: look at Twilight, purely from a writing point of view, not commenting on the movies. You can tear the writing apart yourself. But she got them published, she’s a multimillionaire, and do you think she cares? The audience likes them. She found an audience, the audience likes the books, and they earn her a good living. What more could you ask for? Fifty Shades of Grey, same story; I don’t think I got past the first page of the look-inside. Apologies to anybody who loves those books, but the point stands: number one, let it go and publish. Or, alternately, if you decide the book isn’t what you want to write, stop and move to the next one. Make the decision and go.

The freelancer as salesperson

Richard Lowe: The second part is confidence in selling. I’m a freelance writer and ghostwriter, which means I have to find clients constantly. If I don’t find clients, I don’t pay the rent. It’s that simple. And freelancing means you’re a salesperson. You have to sell your services, and that can be scary. Today I sat down with the CEO of a fairly large company and said: pay me today. I want a third down, and pay me today. Okay, let’s get started. Ten years ago that would have intimidated me so much I wouldn’t have done it. Today I don’t care; it’s how I make my living.

Cold calls and cold messages: contacting people you’ve never met. That’s scary for most people, but when you’re a freelancer, you learn to push whatever’s going on in your head aside and do it. The guy I signed today was a cold contact two weeks ago. I saw him on LinkedIn, sent a connection request, and said: I’m a ghostwriter and a writer, do you need anything? He said: well, yeah, actually I do. Two weeks later I have a contract that’s probably going to turn into significant income over the next few years, because I reached out to somebody I had never met.

And it works the same for authors. Say you want to traditionally publish: then you’d better be reaching out to agents, publishers, people in the industry, people with big titles and fancy names. Don’t open with “I have a book, can I send you the manuscript,” because they get that all day long. Ask about the books they’ve published. Mention one you read and liked. Start a conversation like you would with your next-door neighbor, and at some point say: by the way, I have this book. They’ll probably say they don’t have time, and you say: can I send you a copy? They’ll probably say yes, glance at it, and you’ve gotten in. Go to the trade shows: the big publisher shows, the author shows. Put on your best extroverted face, even if you’re the most terrible introvert in the world; pretend you’re an extrovert for a day, shake hands, get phone numbers, and ask: is this what you do? Do you know somebody who does? It’s tough if you’re not an extrovert; it wears me out. But you do what you’ve got to do. When authors tell me their book isn’t selling or no publisher will talk to them, my answer is one word: hustle.

Just last week I connected with somebody brand new on LinkedIn. She said, kind of sheepishly, that her company is a publisher that uses ghostwriters to write fiction, and she wasn’t sure I’d want their rates, which are relatively low. I said: let’s talk. It’s a new area for me. They want a trial first, a couple of pages, and it’s unclear whether I get paid for the trial, but I’ll write a few pages for nothing to get in the door on a long-term project. The point is: you reach out, and you’re confident when you do. If you approach people saying “I’m just a beginning author and I’m not sure I should be talking to you,” the word in their mind is amateur. Go in saying: I’ve got this great manuscript you should read. But don’t oversell it; don’t say it’s the best in the world, because that turns them off too. It’s a tightrope: self-confident, not arrogant. Arrogance is “I’m the best writer there is.” Well, where have you been published? Nowhere? Then you’re not top-notch. Don’t overplay your hand.

And if you do overplay it, or you write a bad book, or you lose a customer: don’t agonize. Move on. I’ve lost a couple of customers and never found out why. Okay. Whatever. It happens to everybody in freelancing.

Is fear fiction or nonfiction?

Dwayne Drummond: You said something deep: accept the job and figure it out. So my question to you is: is fear fiction or nonfiction?

Richard Lowe: Fear is in your own mind. By the way, it was Richard Branson of Virgin Atlantic I got that quote from: if somebody asks you to do something and you don’t know how to do it, accept the job and then figure it out.

Obviously there are things in life to genuinely fear: a bear coming at you, that’s fear with a purpose. But for normal life, fear is irrational and unnecessary. Why are you afraid of getting your book published? You can come up with reasons: they might not like it. So what? So what? Who cares? Why aren’t you cold-calling people? It’s intimidating; they might not like me. They don’t even know you. Let them make the decision. In most cases fear is irrational. Make the decision and do it. I made that decision in 2013: I figuratively jumped off the cliff, quit my job, and became a writer, and that was terrifying. It really was. But it turned out really well. I wouldn’t recommend it to just anybody; I had savings and resources. But there was nothing to actually be afraid of. It was a matter of making the decision and implementing it.

Dwayne Drummond: That answers it, because my situation isn’t a book. I was offered a project organizing cooperative living: writers live in a house for free, and their job is to come together and write a book. In Philadelphia, with redevelopment and gentrification happening, the current people don’t have a say, and they lose their culture and their history. What if we had cooperative living where the current people come together and write their history before the outsiders come in?

Richard Lowe: I like that. My own rule is I make sure I have a foundation first: income coming in to pay the bills. I’m not the kind of person who jumps on a motorcycle to drive across the country without knowing how to ride one and without income along the way. Some people will, and it depends on your personality and what you’re comfortable with. If you’re comfortable jumping into that communal situation, more power to you. But here’s the principle: decide based on rationality. Is this the right decision for me, and what are the reasons? Not fear, not terror, not something that happened in the past, because the past is not the present. No two situations are ever the same, even when they look the same. Judge it on what it really is, based on facts, and you’ll make the right decision.

The mind game and the accountability partner

Richard Lowe: Here’s a little mind game I play with myself. I’ve got a nice savings, because when you’re a freelancer, there are up months and down months. But every single month I pretend that if I don’t bring in enough freelancing income this month, I’m going to be without food. It raises the bar: I’d better find some work. It’s not a real danger at all; it’s a game. But you have to take that mindset, because even after you land the big juicy contract, you’d better keep doing the promotion.

If you’re an author, play the same game: my livelihood depends on getting this book done and out. Don’t make it insanely stressful; if you suffer from anxiety, frame it gently: I have to start the next one, so I need to finish this one. Good. Get it done. Then: I have to sell this book. Good. Figure out how to sell it.

And it works. It’s perfectly possible for an average writer to write a 60,000-word novel every couple of months. I have a friend doing it right now, her first novel. She’s at 80,000 words, and she started two months ago. She sits down and pounds out two hours a day, every single day. She’s 78 years old, she’s half blind, she’s had both feet amputated, and she’s in a wheelchair, and she’s writing her first novel, because I challenged her to do it. “I don’t know if I could just do it.” Don’t do it for me. Don’t do it for anybody else. Do it for you. Every day I get a report: another 2,000 words. I’m her accountability partner; she gets a virtual pat on the head from 3,000 miles away, and back she goes.

The dancer who almost quit

Richard Lowe: I’ve got a story about confidence. I’m also a photographer, and I’ve done probably 1,200 photo shoots of dancers. One night I was front row center photographing a dancer, about 24 years old, who’d had a rough life, domestic abuse and worse, and had worked and worked at her craft. She finished this incredible performance, and the entire audience was silent. She left the stage, and I followed her back for the interview, and she was crying. I asked why. She said: because nobody clapped. I asked: did you think it was a good show? She said: I thought it was one of the best shows I ever did, but after tonight I’m thinking of quitting, because nobody clapped, nobody cheered.

I said: maybe it was so good their breath was taken away. And she looked at me and said: you know what? I’m damn good. I’m one of the best dancers there is. I said: good.

That was six years ago. Today she’s one of the top dancers in her field, a form called pop and lock, and she’s dancing all over the country. And it wasn’t me telling her she was good. It was her telling herself she was good. The moment she decided it, all the bad feelings went away.

That’s the same thing to do as a writer, or in any creative field: you judge your work. Other people will judge it too: clients judge you because they pay you, readers judge your book. And you do have to pay attention. But frame it this way: not “what am I doing wrong,” but “what needs to be corrected?” It’s a different viewpoint. The audience isn’t responding: what needs to be corrected in the act? The book isn’t selling: what needs to be corrected? Most likely it’s the promotion, by the way. Or the marketing, or the book page, or the book itself. You analyze it as course corrections, never as wrongness.

The one-star review, taken rationally

Richard Lowe: My very first novel, published under a pseudonym: I went on Goodreads, and among the five-star reviews somebody had written this scathing one-star review that went on for pages, tearing apart every character. My first thought was: wow, this person has way too much time on their hands. My second thought was: she actually read the book, even though she hated it. And my third was: I guess I’ll have to write another one just to get another battering from her.

You can’t take it personally, and you can learn from it. Did she have any good points? She had a couple: one character was a little shallow, and after reading it again, I thought, yeah, she’s right. Okay, next time I’ll fix that. Rather than: oh my God, she said my character is shallow, I’m never writing again. Look at it rationally: are they right, wrong, or partially right? Big deal, either way. Learn and go.

Barriers all have solutions

Richard Lowe: My final remarks, because I’m almost out of time: all of us are perfectly good at making excuses. I’m great at it myself. Life is too short. If there’s a barrier in the way, figure out how to get around it. Family to support, can’t write full-time? Write two hours a day. Can’t do two hours a day? Put time away on the weekend. Kids screaming all around you? Go to the park and write there. There’s almost always a solution of some kind. My friend lost both feet and is half blind, so she speaks her novel in. I once watched an artist in an airport who has no arms; she paints with her feet, and she’s a pretty good artist. If somebody in a wheelchair can play basketball, somebody with no arms can paint, and somebody half blind with both feet amputated can write a book, then you can achieve your dreams. The only thing in the way is you: your considerations, your blocks, your fears, your own mind. And I know that can be hard, believe me. But whatever’s on your mind that’s stopping you, there’s a solution for it. If you don’t know how to write, take a class, or team up with another writer and coach each other; go to meetup.com and find a writers group. Stop being stopped. Plenty of other people in life are going to try to stop you. Don’t do it to yourself.

Sage the Poet: What about the group that says: I don’t want to finish my manuscript yet, because I just came across new information I want to add?

Richard Lowe: It’s probably better to finish it and save the new material for a second book. You can always find more stuff to add; believe me, I could go back and add to every book I’ve written. I’m not saying it’s wrong to add something when it’s appropriate. But if you’ve done that over and over, maybe you’re just delaying getting published. Publish the darn thing and make a second volume later. You’ll always think the last chapter wasn’t quite right. Knock it off, or send it to an editor, whatever the actual next step is: proofreader, beta reader, editor. Go to the next step and stop spinning your wheels on the current one. My dancer friend trained for years, and when it was finally time to get on the stage with the big dancers, do you think she felt ready? She was nervous. She did it anyway. Now she doesn’t even get butterflies.

Closing

Richard Lowe: A large portion of what I do is writing coaching. If you’re a writer and something’s stopping you, or you need to learn something, go to thewritingking.com/, click the contact link, fill out the form, and we’ll talk on the phone and put together a coaching program: one-on-one, by the hour. Usually it doesn’t take long, because I’m giving you advice, not doing it for you: looking over your shoulder, figuring out what the problem is, and helping you through it. At fictionmasterclass.com you’ll find inexpensive self-paced writing courses in PDF form: mystery, romance, science fiction, fantasy, the 500-idea books, Amazon marketing, freelancing. And coolauthor.com goes to my Amazon page with all the books under my name, on just about every subject, including one on how to make friends with women without being a sleaze. That was a fun one to write, because I’ve photographed so many women, and when you photograph women, you sit there for an hour while they do their makeup, so you may as well talk. And what do they want to talk about? What they hate about men. I learned a lot.

Sage the Poet: Ladies and gentlemen, you have it all. Let’s commit before 2019 arrives to doing what we’ve put off. Thank you, Richard, and congratulations on the projects ahead.

Richard Lowe: Thank you for having me, and I’ll see you in a month.

Find Richard Lowe at thewritingking.com/.

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