Writing a Book Was Hard Enough — Then the Internet Decided You Also Need to Be a Marketing Wizard with Mad Skills
What if you're not crazy, and yes, the system is broken?
The pressure being put on authors today is absolutely ridiculous. We need all the help we can get. We don’t need permission to create—the way that works best for us. We never did. I’m Dominic, founder of a writing community called LegendFiction. It’s time to get back to work being creative with all the tools we can use.
If this post does strike a chord with you, send me a DM. I’d love to hear from you.
What if writing your story didn’t have to feel impossible?
What if the mountain of pressure modern authors face — the marketing, the social media, the brand-building, the hustle — isn’t proof you’re failing... but proof the system is broken?
This is an honest, rebellious letter to every writer overwhelmed by the noise, tired of the self-congratulating suffering Olympics on social media, and quietly wondering if there’s still room to simply love writing again.
In this post, let’s talk about why authors today feel buried alive — and how tools like AI aren’t cheating; they’re a lifeline. They’re not going away. And they showed up exactly when we needed them to.
I’m here to hand you permission to write your story your way, use the tools you need, and stop apologizing for surviving.
Because nobody gets a trophy for burnout.
But there’s a whole world waiting for your words.
If Writing Feels Impossible, It’s Not You — It’s This Whole Made-Up System
Let’s be honest.
The pressure being put on authors today is absolutely ridiculous. Writing a book has always been hard enough. It was never supposed to require you to become a Michelangelo-level polymath or a Leonardo da Vinci creative super-genius.
Nobody told you that in order to bring your story into the world, you also had to become a marketing expert, a graphic designer, a social media strategist, a project manager, a community leader, and a professional public speaker.
You didn’t ask to become a content-creating machine or a full-time influencer. You asked for space to write the epic novel burning in your soul.
So if you feels overwhelmed, overlooked, and quietly drowning in the noise of advice, criticism, and impossible expectations from other writers... I hear you.
Especially those 'old-school' authors dunking on everyone, demanding that everyone suffer the way they do. With pen and ink. They see your struggle and instead of offering help, they project their trauma onto you. They survived the hard way, so now you have to, too.
And look, I wrote my first novel with a ballpoint pen. All 50K words of it.
So I've been there.
For the Writers Who Just Want to Create
This is for all the authors who don’t have a cabin at the bottom of the garden. No cozy writing shed, no mountain retreat. Some of you don’t even have a house. You’re barely paying rent. You’re staring down inflation, medical debt, student loans—maybe owning a home will never be in the cards.
And yet here you are, still showing up to write.
This is for the authors who barely know who Ernest Hemingway is, and honestly? You’re not dreaming of being Stephen King either. You don’t have the luxury of picturing yourself as some tortured, starving artist suffering nobly for their craft.
You’re already suffering enough trying to survive in the real world. The life you want feels so far away, and it may not even be your fault.
But you do have this: a burning love to create. And you’re not going to let go of that.
This is for the authors who will take any help they can get. Because you're not teeing up to same starting line as everyone else.
You're starting in a hole, just trying to claw your way up to level ground.
You're tired of the way other authors dunk on people like you—for not being fast enough, smart enough, good enough.
You’re tired of the victim mindset, the cancel culture, the blame games, when all you want is a hand up, a pat on the back, a reminder that it’s worth it to keep going.
You're worth it.
You can see through the pettiness online. You see the authors terrified that someone else’s success is stealing their oxygen. You see the gatekeeping. And you’re done with it.
I’ve been watching this space. I’ve seen how authors treat each other, especially when they disagree. And I’m not here to roll over and stay quiet.
If people disagree with me, that’s up to them.
I’m still going to say what I believe and do what I think is helpful—because I believe there are so many more authors out there than we realize who feel exactly the same way. I wish someone had told me all this 10 years ago.
So I’m saying it now.
We're all done with the elitism
All this “stuff” you’re expected to deal with? The social posts, the tweets, the reels, the booktok updates... look it's fun. We love it. But hey. It’s made-up.
It’s an artificial system layered on top of the craft you love—and it’s suffocating you.
Every new platform is a whole new realm you're 'expected' to master. On your own. With a donut and coffee. (Unless you're avoiding carbs, and then you have even less joy in your life to level up with.)
Nobody succeeds alone.
Everyone who has ever made it (and lived long enough to enjoy it) has a team, tools, and resources to help carry the load.
So finally, in the middle all this inane, insane overwhelm, tech is finally catching up to the problems we keep creating for ourselves.
For the first time in history, an individual anywhere with a dream can get the help they need to share their ideas. Real help.
Tools like AI aren’t here to steal your voice or your creativity.
Can they? Sure. But hey. So can people.
We call them scammers. AI can be used to amplify your ideas, remove the friction, and give you back your time without forcing you to sell your soul to the industry machine.
This article is your permission slip to stop suffering in silence. To stop apologizing. To start using the tools available to you so you can focus on the thing that matters most: writing your story.
Ever heard of the ‘No True Scotsman’ Fallacy? We’re awash in it.
It’s lazy thinking.
The No True Author Fallacy (AI Edition)
It usually goes like this:
"Oh, you used AI to help brainstorm your plot?
Well... no real author would ever do that."
Or...
"You used AI to help outline your chapters or organize your ideas?
Sorry, no true writer needs that kind of crutch."
Or the classic:
"Any author who uses AI for anything isn’t really writing — they’re just pretending."
As if authors who use technology to make their creative process easier are somehow less authentic. As if the only real writing happens by candlelight, with a quill pen, while you suffer quietly in a log cabin deep in the woods with no running water or Wi-Fi.
This is the No True Scotsman Fallacy in disguise.
No true author would do that thing I personally don’t like — therefore, if you do it, you’re not a real author.
It's performative purity. And it's completely disconnected from the reality of how every creative profession in history has evolved.
Tools don’t make you less real.
They help you survive long enough to finish what matters.
This fallacy doesn’t allow for a member of a community to think differently.
The Absurd Circus Act of Being an Author Today
There is a moment every writer knows: staring at a blank screen at midnight, kids asleep, dishes in the sink, brain foggy, feeling stretched so thin you might snap, and that tiny voice whispering — "You're not doing enough."
Writers already feel inadequate. Impostor syndrome is basically the default operating system for most of us.
Time management? That's comedy. Time is a shapeshifting phantom that slips away faster than your ideas. There is never enough.
You're writing in the cracks of life — in the waiting rooms, in the pick-up line at school, in the ten minutes before bed when your brain feels like overcooked oatmeal.
You steal moments like a creative outlaw, scribbling ideas on napkins, typing fragments in your phone at red lights, mentally rewriting scenes while folding laundry.
This is not the life of the perfectly polished author you see on social media. This is survival writing.
And it’s what most of us are doing.
You're supposed to know how to build a thriving community.
Manage beta readers like a corporate HR department.
Get on podcasts and be effortlessly charming.
Write sequels like a machine.
Manage a newsletter, a website, a brand, and build a personal mythos worthy of a Marvel origin story—all while holding down a day job and raising a family.
And heaven help you if you write slowly. That's basically a sin in the modern writing world.
The Self-Publishing Shame Olympics
And then other writers come along and pile on. Especially if you're self-publishing.
Oh, you're not paying $1000 for a cover? Must not be serious.
You don't have the budget for a full-time editor? Amateur hour.
You're not hand-crafting custom posts for every social media platform like some kind of content wizard monk living in a mountain retreat with infinite hours and no children? Clearly, you're not dedicated enough.
And while you're already barely holding it together, you open Instagram or Threads and what do you see?
The Self-Congratulating Olympics of Author Suffering.
Post after post of writers detailing just how impossibly hard their writing life is — their burnout, their exhaustion, their horror stories about marketing and publishing — as if writing hasn't been difficult since monks were hand-copying scrolls by candlelight.
Then comes the fear-mongering: frantic warnings that someone might steal their ideas, their drafts, their precious intellectual property.
As if theft hasn’t existed since the dawn of storytelling. As if the power of your story lies only in the raw idea — not in your unique voice, skill, and heart poured into bringing it to life.
I’m with James Cameron on copywrite with AI. We can’t copyright the sources, or the input. We copyright the output. We always have.
Writers create in a hundred different ways — there is no single, sacred method.
I'm tired of the creators who resent others who reach their goals faster — not because they cheated — but because they adapted. Because they were humble enough to use the tools available. Because they worked smarter, not just banged their heads harder against walls.
Artists are unique, and need unique ways to embody their imagination, ways that work for them.
Faith-Inspired Writers Have It Even Worse
But for those of us writing faith-inspired fiction, it gets even more insane.
It’s not just hard—it’s like walking a creative tightrope over a pit of snapping opinions, where every step you take is criticized from a different direction.
Write about magic? You're a heretic.
Don't write about magic? You're boring.
Stay silent? You're a coward.
Speak boldly? You're arrogant.
Not vocal enough about your faith? Not holy enough.
Too vocal? Too preachy.
Use imagination and symbolism? Dangerous.
Stay strictly literal? Spiritually shallow.
It’s like no matter where you turn, someone is waiting to tell you that you're doing it wrong.
That your work doesn’t fit neatly into their tiny box of what "good Christian fiction" should look like. That somehow your very act of writing fiction is suspicious because it dares to explore beauty, mystery, and creativity outside the lines of their control.
And while all this is happening, all you want—deep down—is to sit quietly with your story. To protect that fragile, beautiful, ridiculous little pearl of great price burning in your heart.
You want to chase it down rabbit trails, follow its strange curves, discover what it wants to become. You want the freedom to explore.
But instead? You're buried under a mountain of noise, opinions, bad advice, criticism, unrealistic demands, and theological hot takes.
You’re clawing your way through an avalanche of expectations just to protect that spark of inspiration and not lose your love for the craft in the process.
Nobody Has Mastered All of This
And here's the truth nobody tells you: No author has ever mastered all of this. Nobody has balanced it all perfectly while writing with heart and raising a family and living a peaceful life.
The few who seem like they actually do?
They either have teams of people helping them, or superpowers we mortals don’t possess. Most of them just aren’t on social at all. They just let everyone else talk about them.
But what if writers of the future don't burn out trying to do it all?
What if we're building a world where creativity flows more freely because we embraced the tools that helped us breathe again?
This is why AI is not the enemy. AI is the tractor to your plow. It's the printing press to your hand-scribed manuscript. It's the car to your horse.
AI exists because the creative world has gotten stupidly hard, and we need help.
AI is not here to replace your creativity.
It's here to help you survive the war zone of modern publishing.
It can brainstorm with you when your friends are tired.
It can organize your chaos when your brain is mush.
It can research without sending you down a thousand browser tabs or triggering a Homeland Security flag.
It can help you draft, outline, plan, and even help with social posts—so you can spend your precious creative energy on the thing only you can do: write.
We're finally getting through the ridiculous early years of AI hype and slop and abuse. It's been a weird two to three years.
I've lost friendships over what I think is right.
Watched creators team up like hive-minds over ridiculous slogans and lambaste each other.
Watched ludicrous sham-posting from lazy AI-users pretending that they actually 'made' something and deserve equal treatment as real creators.
Watched members of my writing community struggle to find the balance of just being a good person without being cancelled.
Time to be done, now. Will the grownups in the room stand back up?
The Author's True Role: Stewardship, Not Perfection
Authors are like parents. There are no rulebooks, no instruction manuals, no neat checklists that guarantee success. Just a lot of late nights, trial and error, rough drafts, rewrites, and a stubborn refusal to give up on something you love.
'Parenting' a story into the world is messy. It requires patience. It requires humility. And often, it requires a ridiculous amount of courage to keep showing up when nobody is clapping for you.
And your readers? Frankly... they don’t care. They aren’t checking to see if you wrote it by hand under a full moon, or outlined it in a leather-bound journal while sipping tea. They don't care if you brainstormed with an AI tool that you trained on your manuscript , so that to help you be a better author faster.
They care that you finished it. That you believe in it, and it matters to you, and you worked hard to say something that matters to them too.
They care that your words found them. That your story met them where they were. That it made them feel something real.
Final Blessing for the Writer in the Arena
Some writers will always choose to walk instead of ride. That's fine. That's their story. Their journey. Their choice. Maybe walking keeps them grounded, maybe it brings them joy, or maybe it’s the only way they know how to create. They only way they want to.
But don't let them shame you into thinking you're less because you choose to use a tool that gives you back your time, your sanity, your energy, and your love of writing.
You're not weak for wanting help.
You're not less of an artist because you value efficiency in certain areas.
You're not a fraud because you want to protect your mental health while chasing your dream.
You're human. And being human means working with the tools and resources you have to create something only you can make.
Write broke. Write tired. Write messy. Write in the cracks of your life—in waiting rooms, on lunch breaks, between loads of laundry, after long shifts, and before the sun comes up.
Write when your brain is foggy. Write when the world is loud. Write when nobody else is watching. But write.
Because it doesn't matter what anyone else is doing. What an AI bot is doing. None of it will never replace the heart, soul, and grit of you. The actual you.
Use the tools. Use your creativity. Use your stubbornness. Walk when you want. Ride when you need. Crawl if you have to. But keep going.
Keep your creativity alive. Protect your pearl of great price. Nurture it. Steward your inspiration like the precious thing it is.
The worst thing you could do is try so hard to do everything right, that you forget why you started writing in the first place. It's easy to get lost trying to follow everyone's advice, trying to keep up with all the rules people tell you about being a 'good' writer or a 'good' person.
But if that leaves you so busy, stressed, and tired that you never get to sit down and write your story, what’s the point?
Your gift, your story, will grunt, writhe, and die of exhaustion before seeing daylight. Don't let that happen.
That's what matters most. And that is always worth fighting for.
Artists can use AI.
Artists should use AI.
Artists are some of the best people to be using AI, and teaching the rest of us.
Artists can make AI great.
And I’m an artist. I can say that.
So can you.
And if you’re still here, come and check out my community, LegendFiction. I think you’ll like it.
Preach it, Dominic! ;) Your description of "survival writing" especially resonates with me. Writing is so very hard, but also worth it. I don't know yet how to do the writing and the marketing/managing/promoting all at the same time. (At least not without losing my mind.) But Legend Fiction has helped me to get my first book, AVALON LOST, out into the world, and I'll always be so grateful for that! And nothing's going to stop me from writing the sequel, either.
To all my fellow authors out there: Just keep writing! :)
Thanks for the encouragement. I wrote and self published a middle grade science fiction book years ago and I tried to embed some faith into it. Looking back I see the effort was good, but not the outcome. You’ve given me some energy to get back into the work and see how I can use the tools to smooth out the rough edges and also to be more confident I how I layer in faith and moral elements into my work.