Sometimes the Best Stories Happen Between the Books

I spent three days last week doing something I absolutely love: talking with people about writing, books, and storytelling.

I was a vendor at the Hearts & Hands Holiday Market in Houston, sharing a table with my wife and introducing visitors to my novels, including my newest, Between the Notes.

And I barely sat down.

Not because I was constantly selling books, but because I was having so many interesting conversations. I reconnected with friends I hadn’t seen in years and talked with new ones I’m still getting to know. I met people who were curious about writing their own books and marveled when I reminded them that I have a day job that isn’t fiction writing. And I talked with readers about their favorite authors, their careers, and their lives.

Along the way, I learned something about how I introduce my work: the marketing philosophy I use in my day job applies just as much to my author business.

At first, I described Between the Notes as my twelfth book and my first romance. That didn’t exactly get the universal awe I was aiming for. In fact, a couple outright said they didn’t read romances. But I quickly discovered, in real time, that when I shifted the conversation to the characters—two people who set aside parts of themselves to be everything to everybody else and the gradual, quiet process of rediscovering those forgotten pieces—the folks standing at my table became much more interested.

Why? Because people often connect with the human story before they connect with a category or label. It’s one thing to understand that principle professionally. It’s another to see it happen right in front of you.

As writers, we spend an awful lot of time worrying about how to get people to notice our books. We think about covers, blurbs, genres, social media, advertising, and whatever else we’re supposed to be doing this week. But sometimes we forget that the best part of being a writer is simply talking about stories. And sometimes, the most rewarding opportunities come from simply showing up, starting conversations, listening, and making genuine connections.

Because not every conversation needs to become a sale to have value.

One conversation yielded something amazing. It was with an older gentleman who told me about the mail he’d seen in a most unusual place…and I got a brand-new story idea. I call that a bonus. 

Some of my favorite moments were spent talking with people who wanted to write their own stories. I’ve published twelve books, but that doesn’t make my stories any more important than theirs. We all have experiences, ideas, and perspectives worth sharing. I’ve simply spent years learning how to turn some of mine into books. And I reminded them, with a sweep of my hand, that every book on the table was created in an hour a day—sometimes more, sometimes less—while I went to work at the day job. I let them know that if they had as little as fifteen minutes a day and they kept a consistent writing habit, their story could be told. And I encouraged them to start. 

By the end of the third day, I wasn’t ready for the event to be over.

I’m already planning to participate in more events in 2027, both traditional author fairs and community markets, where someone might discover a book they weren’t expecting to find—or discover that their own stories are worth telling.

Because one of the most rewarding parts of being an author isn’t just sharing the stories I’ve written. It’s discovering how much we all have to share with one another.