Between Houston and Sealy

How a finished book became a bestseller-in-waiting

My husband has written an alternative history novel set mostly in nineteenth-century Oklahoma. It’s finished. Not “nearly finished.” Finished-finished.

Which is when writers do what they always do: they join publishing groups.

Yesterday, in one of his editing and publishing education groups, they were discussing BookTok as a place to advertise books. My husband was immediately excited.

I’ve been on TikTok. I know that simply existing on TikTok does not cause readers to fling money at you like you’re feeding pigeons. So I suggested we research reviews rather than taking the word of someone trying to sell him a program.

I am always such a wet blanket. It’s basically my role in the ecosystem.

Apparently BookTok really is great… with women under thirty.

Which is not really his target market. His target market is more likely to have opinions about wagon wheels.

His book involves history. Weather. People who would find modern plumbing suspicious.

Still, once “women under thirty” entered the conversation, the book began to change shape in real time.

I suggested he write in a few scenes with his main character wearing no shirt. Nothing gratuitous. Just… historically accurate bare-chested labor. A little sweat. A little sun. A little “accidentally heroic.” I’ve learned that certain markets like certain things, and nineteenth-century Oklahoma has plenty of opportunities for shirtless suffering and emotionally charged eye contact.

I even told him I could make his character’s body resemble Fabio’s for the cover image, because if we’re going to chase BookTok, we might as well commit to wind and hair.

My husband said women that age like books about vampires.

“Great,” I said. “Add a vampire.”

And since we were already calmly dismantling a completed manuscript on the drive between Houston and Sealy, I added, “You also have to make one of the characters gay or trans.”

Because why stop at shirtless Fabio-vampire romance when you can do inclusive shirtless Fabio-vampire romance?

“Of course,” I added. “And witches are really popular right now.”

“Witchcraft could easily be blended into your book,” I told him, as if I had personally witnessed a nineteenth-century Oklahoma coven doing brand strategy.

At this point we were no longer discussing literature. We were assembling ingredients.

We drove a few more miles.

Then he remembered something important.

“Oh,” he said. “Women under thirty like dragons.”

I looked at him.

“Dragons? Absolutely! You could add a character from China who was born in the Year of the Dragon, or something.”

He paused, considering this with the seriousness of a man who has already agreed to vampires in Oklahoma.

“Well,” he said, “maybe there could be some Kung Fu.”

“Sure,” I said. “Maybe it’s Kwai Chang Caine’s son.”

He brightened. “That could work.”

“And when it becomes a movie,” I added, “one of the younger Carradine boys could play him. The original actor is dead.”

“And his brother is too old,” he said.

This seemed like a perfectly reasonable casting discussion for a book that had been finished earlier that week.

So, by the time we got home, his completed alternative history novel now needed a rewrite to include bare chests, a steamy love scene, a vampire, a gay character, a trans character, a witch, a dragon, Kung Fu, and a Chinese character born in the Year of the Dragon, already pre-cast for the film adaptation.

Easily a bestseller.