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I like to think that, during my forty-ish years on this planet, I’ve picked up some pretty useful lessons for living.  

• Telling someone you love them is almost always a good idea, so long as you mean it 

• Life holds few pleasures more perfect than nice cup of tea + sit down + good book 

• Cheap bin liners are an utterly false economy.  

Five books into what I hope will be a long and happy writing career, I’ve acquired a few author-specific insights, too.  

I’m still learning all the time – but here are the most useful pointers I’ve gleaned thus far…  

1. Writing is hard 

The crafting of a novel is difficult. It’s a feat of creativity, but also of strategic planning, discipline and determination. At some point during the drafting of every book, I experience a crisis of confidence so profound it leaves me crying into my keyboard.   

The task seems harder still when you consider it in the context of real life, where many of us have day jobs, children or other dependents, and homes to run.  

But as Miley Cyrus famously said, ‘It’s the climb’ – and since when has anything worth doing been easy? I’ll probably always have days when I’m reduced to weeping at my desk. I’ve just learned to see them as part of the process: signs that I’m Doing The Work, and that it matters to me. 

2. Writing is joyful 

Consider the rush of crafting a conversation between two people who sound and feel real, even though, five minutes ago, they only existed in your head.  

Remember the kick of satisfaction that comes with making yourself laugh, or sending a shiver down your own spine, as you type.  

Think of those moments when you’ve hit upon precisely the right words to describe an emotion – a sentence that you know, in your bones, rings true.  

They are your reward for the times when everything seems wrong, and you feel like giving up.  

They are beautiful and you must savour them. 

3. The book in your head will never exist in real life 

Don’t ask me why – but something happens when you try to extract your lovely, shiny book idea from your brain and commit it to the page.  

Maybe it’s that character sketches and plot points are stress-tested when they’re stretched over thousands of words. Perhaps it’s a strange kind of alchemy: the base metal of your book turning into gold, even if it doesn’t feel that way as you work on it.  

Anyway, I’ve found stories rarely take the shape you initially expected when you actually start writing them. I have come to accept this. 

4. Publishing is not a meritocracy… and luck does a lot of heavy lifting 

The most talented authors are not always the ones who get the best deals or sell the most books. The vagaries of the market are too mad to make sense of, and the entire business is subjective. One editor’s trash is another’s treasure – particularly if it seems likely to blow up on BookTok. 

In my experience, it’s liberating to accept that some proportion of the success you find (or keep striving for) will always be down to luck: your book finding its way to the right people at the right time.  

Sidebar: I cannot stress enough how pointless it is to resent someone else’s achievements or feel bitter that yours don’t match up. Comparison is the thief of joy, but it’s also a total waste of time. Time you could be spending on honing your craft or pushing your own project forward.  

5. Fashion fades, style is eternal 

On a similar note, I think writing to fit in with a prevailing trend is risky – unless, of course, you’ve been commissioned to do so by a publisher and paid a tasty advance.  

As Yves Saint Laurent supposedly said: ‘Fashion fades, style is eternal.’ What’s selling today might seem old hat by the time you’ve got a full manuscript together - but a great story, beautifully written in your unique voice, will always have its place.  

Last week I took a Great Icon of English literature and trashed his cliffhanger chapter ending. And I think I was right enough about the badness of his endings, but I also realise that I didn’t actually offer much about what good endings actually look like.

So, today we investigate that.

I’m going to look at chapter endings from Katherine Rundell’s Impossible Creatures, a book aimed at roughly 10-12 year old readers, but which also sold plenty to adults too. The book won a ton of prizes and sold lots of copies, so it’s a pretty fair place to look for inspiration.

I’m going to put chapter ending techniques in different buckets, and we’ll see which bucket fills up fastest. The book starts out with two characters (Mal and Christopher) and I’ll label chapters accordingly.

Here goes.

Prologue (Mal)

“ … when there was a knock on the door.

It was the murderer.”

That IS kind of a cliffhanger-y chapter ending, but the chapter doesn’t finish in the middle of the action (Hardy-style). Instead, it closes on the cusp of something dramatic that's about to happen. 

Also, this is really a prologue – it’s only a page long – so it plays by different rules.

Bucket: Cusp of drama

Chapter 2 (Mal)

“But they were busy, and people mostly let her be, to run and eat and fly.

Except, that day, for the murderer.”

This just picks up the exact same tune as the prologue. If we’re being honest, that tune has only very recently been played and it’s a bit weak to revert to it quite so soon. But? OK, I’ve done things like that myself. It is a compromise, but not an especially grievous one.

But the prologue was ‘cusp of drama’, because there was an actual knock at the door. Here, no action is on the point of being launched, so this is a promise of action but (because of the ‘that day’) with the status set to imminent.

Bucket: Promise of action (imminent)

Chapter 3 (Christopher)

“The way grew steeper, and the earth darker, a peaty black dotted with gorse. The air began to smell different – richer, and deeper, and wilder.”

This is an interesting one. You can’t really say that this foreshadows future action, because there’s not even a whiff of what any action might be. What there is here, however, is a sense of change, and a hint as to what that change is going to be.

It’s going to be richer, deeper and wilder, of course. But it’s also going to be steeper / darker / blacker. That is, it’s going to be tough and dangerous. This is good writing, for sure, because a perfectly normal comment about the changing landscape is interpreted – correctly – as a comment about the boy’s future.

Bucket: Foreshadowing change (non-specific)

Chapter 4 (Mal)

“She flew there, 23 feet up in the sky, the wind buoying her, her feet pointed behind.

She did not see that the murderer watched her go."

This is now the third Mal chapter in a row that uses the exact same device – the exact same word – to propel reading. Honestly? I think it grates now. I’d have been happier with an ending along the lines of “She was confident that she’d escaped. Perhaps now, things could return to normal.” Any reader would interpret that as “Of course she hasn’t b****y well escaped, you idiot...”

But in terms of chapter ending style, we’re still in the same place as for the last one.

Bucket: Promise of action (imminent)

Chapter 5 (Christopher)

“’You're welcome here: you're my grandson, and it's right that you should come. But don't forget what I said [regarding a forbidden pond].’

He left. He didn't notice – for even the wisest of the old forget, sometimes, the care and subtlety of the young – that Christopher had made no promise [again, in relation to the pond].”

This, by contrast, seems like a pretty much perfect chapter ending. The author is effectively promising that her character is about to do something that he shouldn't do.

We don't at this stage know what the consequences of that transgression will be, so we can’t quite bracket this as a promise of action. All we really know is that whatever Christopher does is going to alter things in an exciting way. So our verdict is …

Bucket: Promising change (non-specific)

Chapter 6 (Mal)

“She had thought about writing to them, to tell them what she knew, but had decided not to. She could not bear to risk him [her griffin, the last one left alive] being taken.

She shivered, hard. She tucked her hair into her navy fisherman's jersey, and prepared to fly home.”

This chapter ending seems to me a little inert. And, OK, a great book can cope perfectly well with a few rather flat chapter endings, so I don’t want to make too much of this criticism. But the ending actually flattens any change, rather than creating it. The ending has a feeling of “OK, so we’re done here” to it, without undermining that statement, even metaphorically.

Bucket: Flat ending; no promise of change

Thoughts on all the above

What’s interesting to me here is that the best endings, to my taste, were the Christopher ones. They revolved around foreshadowing change / promising future action (not imminent).

The Mal chapter endings seemed either too flat (the last one) or too constantly dramatic (all the murderer-based ones). When I look at my own chapter endings, they tend to cluster very much in Christopher type territory: foreshadowing change / promising future action (not imminent).

That’s not at all saying that cusp of action endings don’t work – they certainly do, but they are the raisins in the pudding. They’re not the pudding.

Perhaps all this is just a matter of personal taste, but I really don’t think it is. I think that gives us a sense of what good chapters endings generally feel like. Join us over on Townhouse, if you can, and jump into this week’s Feedback Friday discussion. I think it’ll be very illuminating!

FEEDBACK FRIDAY / Chapter endings

Again, there are two FF options this week. One for those taking the Plan Your Romance Novel video course, one not.

Plot Your Romance Novel video course task: Write one or two sentences about how you plan to combine or subvert common romance tropes. Share this in the forum.

General task: Give us two or three of your chapter endings, just as I’ve done in this email. Share your reflections on whether they work and what you think they’re doing - and as always, please provide your book's title and genre. When you're ready, upload your work here.

Til soon. 

Harry

The first time I attended the Jericho Writers Festival of Writing, over ten years ago, I felt out of my depth. I’d written a novel that I thought was decent, and I’d be pitching it to agents that weekend. I didn’t know it then, but I still had a long way to go on my writing journey.

I have so many memories of that festival weekend – meeting other writers, speaking to agents, attending workshops. But what sticks in my mind most was an event called ‘Slushpile Live’, led by Harry Bingham, in which writers could hand in their cover letter, synopsis, and opening pages, and receive live feedback from agents in front of the whole room.

I was too nervous to hand in mine. We went around the room, hearing lots of useful feedback about people’s submissions. Mine was sitting on the desk in front of me.

‘I think we’ve got time for one more,’ Harry said.

But I still didn’t put my hand up.

I didn’t think my heart could take it. The feedback was all constructive, but tough to hear. None of the submissions were ready. It was clear that getting published would be even more difficult than I thought.

Still, I wished I’d put my hand up.

Harry and the agents gave feedback on the final submission.

Harry checked the clock again. ‘Alright, one more,’ he said.

My hand shot up. Harry took my pages. This was the first time anyone had ever seen my work, beyond family and friends. I was ready to run out of the room, to give up on this whole writing thing.

Harry read the opening paragraphs aloud. He paused.

‘That’s pretty good,’ he said. And he proceeded to dissect specifically what he liked about it, what I’d done well, and why it might entice an agent (and readers).

That moment will always stay with me. Because I knew I had something. Even if this novel never got published (and it won’t be), I knew I was on my way. That festival gave me the confidence to keep going, and a direction to get me there.

Over the following years, I used Jericho Writers for finding agents, for submission feedback, for agent one-to-ones. I attended more festivals. I was shortlisted for Best 500 Words and read my work in front of the entire festival. I was shortlisted for Best Opening Chapter, and more recently, Pitch Jericho. Each of these achievements felt like a little landmark – a sign that I was onto something, and that my dream of being published might come true eventually, if I just stuck with it.

I did stick with it. And in 2024 I was lucky enough to win an international writing competition, secure myself a wonderful agent and now I’m being published in multiple countries, with another book on the way.

My biggest piece of advice, which might seem unconventional, is to enter competitions. Of course it’s easy for me to say that – if I hadn’t won the Bath Novel Award, I might not have found my agent. But I also found an agent when I was shortlisted for Best 500 Words (for a novel which was ultimately never published). Always send your work to agents, but competitions are where I’ve found the most joy. Even if you don’t win, you might get longlisted or shortlisted, and you might receive feedback, which is huge for any aspiring writer.

Of course, I still had to put in the work. I had to write several failed novels, read lots of books about writing, and send my novels out in spite of the countless rejections. But by the time I wrote this latest novel, I felt like I knew (for the most part) what I was doing. I felt like I understood stories, and characters, and all the things we love about literature.

For anyone looking to write great stories and become a published author, you need two main things – to write a great book, and to pitch it well. Both of these are much easier said than done. It can often feel like you’re wandering alone through a long dark tunnel.

What Jericho gave me was a torch, a path, and a ray of light at the end.

The term cliffhanger derives from a famous scene in a Thomas Hardy novel, A Pair of Blue Eyes.

Now, I should probably say upfront that I think the novel is bad, the scene in question is worse, and that Hardy himself is monstrously overrated as a writer. If those thoughts mark me down as a Literary Infidel, then by all means print off this email, so you can tear it to shreds with your teeth, and shriek around your local shopping centre denouncing me and mine to everyone you meet. [Statutory warning: actually doing this may cause you some difficulty with your local mental health services. You do it at your own risk.]

Here’s what happens. (Because Hardy is extremely verbose, I’ve edited sharply to stop your eyes boiling in your head.) The hero is Mr Knight, and he’s at the tippy-top edge of a cliff, along with the lovely (but really quite useless) Elfride.

By an ill fate, the force downwards of her bound, added to [Knight’s] own weight, had been too much for the block of quartz upon which his feet depended …

It moved. Knight seized a tuft of sea-pink with each hand.

The quartz rock which had been his salvation was worse than useless now. It rolled over, out of sight …

One of the tufts by which he held came out at the root, and Knight began to follow the quartz. It was a terrible moment. Elfride uttered a low wild wail of agony, bowed her head, and covered her face with her hands.

Between the turf-covered slope and the gigantic perpendicular rock intervened a weather-worn series of jagged edges, forming a face yet steeper than the former slope. As he slowly slid inch by inch upon these, Knight made a last desperate dash at the lowest tuft of vegetation--the last outlying knot of starved herbage ere the rock appeared in all its bareness. It arrested his further descent. Knight was now literally suspended by his arms.

You’d think that Elfride’s job was now rather obvious: help her buddy from an obvious death. But she’s useless and Knight isn’t much better. Here’s Hardy in action again:

A minute--perhaps more time--was passed in mute thought by both. On a sudden the blank and helpless agony left her face. She vanished over the bank from his sight.

Quite why any pair of idiots would be so clownish as to pass a minute or more doing nothing and formulating no plan is left unclear. Perhaps the best thing would have been for the two of them to jump off the cliff together and save the world from some quite questionable DNA.

However, that’s not what happens.

The next chapter opens with over two thousand words (Two! Thousand! Words!) of reflection of trilobites and much else. Then it turns out that Elfride has taken her greatly-skirted underthings off and is proposing to knot it into a rope. There follows the normal unhurried discussion of these things. (‘Now,' said Knight …, 'I can hold three minutes longer yet. And do you use the time in testing the strength of the knots, one by one.')

Then the rescue is effected.

A glorious narrative technique propelling the reader further and faster through the book?

Or a horrible mess?

I don’t, in all honesty, think there’s any real defence of the writing. I think, even taking period into account, it’s just bad prose. (You’re welcome to disagree.) But on the cliffhanger technique, I think:

• It was a good ploy for Hardy,
• And a terrible ploy for you.

Hardy, remember, was writing this book in serial form. So he needed a powerful way to keep his readers – and buying – from month to month. The cliffhanger technique certainly delivers a reason to make that additional purchase.

You’re not writing that way. A reader has paid their money and can, in principle, put the book down any time they want. Now, assuming that you are half-decent at your job, no reader will want to stop reading when your character is hanging by his fingertips from a cliff. So they’ll read on until your character has either plunged to his death, or been rescued via a string of knotted underwear.

So your chapter breaks need to reflect the natural beats of your reader. They’re a way for you to say:

“Now look, old buddy, in a way I’d prefer you to read my book at a sitting, then race around telling all your friends to buy a copy for themselves. But I know life isn’t always like that. Maybe you’ve reached your train stop and need to get off – or it is past midnight and you need to get up early in the morning – or perhaps one of your more beloved children is on fire and calling for help.

Whatever the case may be, there are times when you want to put the book down and would like a gentle hint from me – the author – as to when a break would feel most natural. I call those hints ‘chapters’ and I have marked them typographically, so you really can’t miss them when they arise.”

A cliffhanger is the absolute opposite of a natural break and I almost can’t think of a good reason why you should ever have one.

That doesn’t mean you can’t do a little bit of foreshadowing – effectively a ‘tune in next time, because …’ sort of message. Those things might show up as little closing snippets – this sort of thing:

‘She tried to sleep, but the moon flew high in the ragged clouds, and an owl screeched nearby, and her dreams were full of fighting.’

‘He stood up. He knew what he had to do. Now he – somehow – had to find a way to do it.’

Those things are not cliffhangers. They don’t stop the novel in the middle of a narrative beat. They are just a way of closing the beat, while at the same time making a promise that what follows will be worth reading.

That’s it from me. If you have written a cliffhanger worse than Thomas Hardy’s please send it in to me direct, and I shall buy you a cake as big as your head. The downside is that I’ll publish it.

FEEDBACK FRIDAY / Showing emotion

Again, there are two FF options this week. One for those taking the Plan Your Romance Novel video course, one not.

Plot Your Romance Novel video course task: Write a short romantic moment between two characters in two different ways:  One version with minimal spice. One version with a higher level of spice (don’t force yourself to write anything you feel uncomfortable with). Reflect on which approach feels most natural for your story (and for you) and share in the forum. Make sure to include trigger warnings where applicable. 

General task: Let’s do the same thing – pick a scene where two characters are becoming emotionally close. That could be a classic romantic scene. Or it could be a different sort of love manifesting – a mother greeting a long lost child, a son at his father’s deathbed.

Think about how you show emotion. What mixture do you make of: (a) straightforward emotional statements, (b) bodily sensations, (c) dialogue, (d) action, (e) more oblique suggestions of mood (e.g.: weather, atmosphere, surroundings.) And please make my day: let’s not just have a long list of body parts! When you're ready, upload your stuff here.

Til soon. 

Harry

When a manuscript is on submission, one of the most commonly heard reasons for rejection is that it fails to be ‘stand out’ enough in a saturated market.

With the number of books being published, there are few markets which don’t feel saturated these days. So how do you give your novel an edge that sets it apart? 

1. Hook

Introduce an unusual hook or ingredient. Perhaps it’s a chilling or unreliable narrator, or heady nostalgia that captures a certain era. Gone Girl gave us the twist we didn’t see coming at the midpoint, rather than at the end of the book. Colin’s Walsh’s literary thriller Kala plays with strands of time in a haunting, lyrical way that gives it a class all of its own. 

In my novel Two Little Liars, readers have cited the thread of witchcraft running through the story as adding something new and different compared with the average thriller. Whatever your element (or genre) is, aim to invoke a particular feeling or response in your reader, or a unique atmosphere that lingers long after the final page.

2. Setting

One of the finest compliments a writer can receive about their setting is that it feels like a character in itself. There are many ways in which this can be achieved, whether it’s an everyday domestic setting that should be one of safety and routine, or something unfamiliar such as a lonely mountain lodge or remote island. 

Homes, schools, and shopping centres can quickly become places of real menace when the uninvited is introduced: a window that shouldn’t be open, a noise where there should be silence, a nerve-jangling walk to the only car in a usually packed parking lot.  

3. High stakes

In any thriller, the standard ultimate cost to a character is their life, their liberty or the life of one of their loved ones. But think about other ways to elevate the danger.

What sort of toll will the events of your story take, both physically and emotionally on your protagonist? What will it do to the fabric of their family, their person, their reputation, or their conscience? These things show us who a character is and what they stand to lose, and ultimately they are things that make us care about a character’s fate.  

4. Characters you root for

Characters that feel real and authentic are flawed. They not only have surface flaws, such as being a bit clumsy or forgetful - they're characters who are capable of making life-changing, catastrophic errors of judgement or doing terrible things in moments of madness or to protect the people they love.

My character Erin is haunted by a past mistake that affects every facet of her life and her family, but it is possible to be invested in her because of her deep regret over her actions, and the love she has for her mother. While she acknowledges that she might deserve whatever is coming to her, her mum doesn’t, and it is this love that drives her and helps us to be on her side. 

And while we may not root for some characters, we can still be invested in their outcomes. I have never turned pages faster than when reading the diary entries from Colleen Hoover’s Verity, or despised a character as much as Beatrice Lacey in Philippa Gregory’s Wideacre, even though I understood what propels her to act as she does. We do not have to empathise with a character to care what happens to them next. In fact, a story is no less compelling when the opposite is true. 

5. The payoff

With any book, we want the ending to be a satisfying experience. By definition, a thriller should be thrilling: exciting, high octane, and a little bit scary (or very scary, even). 

A rewarding payoff could be as simple as a classic ‘kill or be killed’ showdown between your main character and the antagonist. It could do something that shocks or surprises the reader, such as offer a huge twist that turns the entire book on its head. It could have the villain seemingly getting away with it in a move that’s totally unforeseen. I barely breathed through the final scenes of Promising Young Woman, unable to believe what was happening.

The key to making these things emotionally gratifying is to thread obstacles to be overcome, and clues to be unravelled, leading up to this point. Twists that aren’t adequately seeded are more likely to leave a reader feeling cheated than fulfilled, so it’s vital there are breadcrumbs or double bluffs along the way to provide the ‘Aha, of course!’ moment as everything comes together. Ultimately, you goal should be to leave your reader feeling that their time with your book was well spent. 

Michelle Harrison is the bestselling author of twenty books for children, published in twenty-five territories. Her debut novel, 13 Treasures, won the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize. Prior to being a full-time writer, Michelle was a bookseller for Waterstones and then an editorial assistant for Oxford University Press. She lives in Essex with her son and cats. Two Little Liars is her first novel for adults. Released on 4 June 2026, it's a chilling psychological thriller inspired by Osea Island, and the witch trials Essex was once well-known for. 

Some characters stay with us long after the book closes. They breathe. They ache. They remind us of someone we love – or someone we used to be.

“There is also the fact that you don’t want to get married,” I finish simply. “We are just too different. In the end, emotions, chemistry and sharing great banter just is not going to be enough to keep us together. Let me release you so you can find a nice uncomplicated woman who isn’t as goofy as me.”

“Suppose I just want goofy,” he says simply.

– The Marriage Monitoring Aunties Association (One More Chapter Books)

Sade and Jimi are the main characters in my latest romcom, where I show them loving, yearning, hurting and disappointing each other and walking away. Yes, they get back together in the end – but not without a big build-up of emotions.

Then there are characters who feel like cardboard cut-outs: technically correct, but emotionally hollow.

The difference isn’t the author’s talent. It’s emotional architecture – the inner scaffolding that makes a character feel real, layered, and alive.

This is the part most writers skip. Not because they don’t care, but because they don’t know how to build it into their work.

1. Start with the wound, not the want

Every unforgettable character carries a wound – an old story they’ve been telling themselves about who they are and what they deserve. This wound shapes their choices, fears, and relationships.

• A woman who was overlooked as a child becomes hyper‑independent.
• A man who was abandoned becomes the one who leaves first.
• A girl who grew up invisible becomes the loudest person in the room.

When you understand the wound, the plot stops feeling forced. Your character’s decisions make emotional sense.

Once youembed some behaviour/habit/intuition in another character that unlocks or perpetuates your protagonist’s wound, everything else flows.

2. Give them a contradiction

Real people are messy. We say one thing and do another. We want love but fear vulnerability. We seldom say what is on our minds.

We are silent when someone says something that troubles us or makes us reflective. Sometimes we pause so that someone else knows we are irritated with them. We crave success but sabotage ourselves. We want peace but create chaos.

Characters who resonate with readers are those capable of holding two truths at once.

They might be…

• Confident but terrified of being truly seen
• Kind but capable of pettiness
• Loyal but secretly longing to escape.

Contradiction is human – and we need to see conflict within, as well as between characters.

3. Let their desire drive the plot

A character’s desire is the engine of your story. Not the external goal (“get the job”), but the emotional one (“prove I’m worthy”).

When readers understand what your character really wants, they root for them – even when they make mistakes.

This is why romance and romcoms hit so hard: the emotional desire is always front and centre.

4. Show the cost of staying the same

A character arc isn’t about change for the sake of change. It’s about the moment they realise:

“If I keep living like this, I will lose something I can’t bear to lose.” Maybe that’s the male or female character in a novel – or even their sense of self-worth or self-respect.

That’s when the story deepens. That’s when readers lean in.

5. Build emotional resonance through small, specific details

Readers don’t fall in love with characters because of grand speeches. They fall in love because of:

• The way she rearranges her mother’s flowers after every argument
• The way he checks the door twice before leaving
• The way she laughs too loudly when she’s nervous
• The way he gets silent the moment he gets defensive.

Specificity illuminates intimacy. Think of the rom coms or films that you remember today and what it was about the characters that still endears you, or energises you, years later. Use this to add intentionality to your characters.

That will keep readers with them on their journey.

Want more from Ola? She’s now available for one-to-one mentoring through Jericho Writers. Ola brings both warmth and experience to her mentoring, with a genuine desire to support aspiring authors to write the books that they’ve dreamed of.

Rachel McLaughlin, recipient of the Ultimate Novel Writing Programme Bursary, is currently studying on the Ultimate Novel Writing Programme. She’s agreed to share her experience of the course with us month by month.

Wow, month two already – how time flies! Suffice to say, I am fully immersed in the course and loving every minute. 

This month, we’ve been focused on point of view. I’ve always gone with ‘what feels right’ for POV choices and, admittedly, will sometimes get tens of thousands of words into a draft then decide I MUST switch it up. I’m definitely guilty of treating a POV change as a ‘magic bullet’ for all everything that isn’t working. But the work this month – including our Lead Tutor call from Holly Seddon – made me realise that POV can be a much more deliberate and nuanced choice. I’m not promising that I won’t flip-flop on POV in future drafts, but if I do, it will definitely be a more informed decision!  

So, I have to mention my first official round of tutor feedback, because this was a big deal for me. While Holly had taken a look at my plan already, she’d not read any of my actual draft until now. And having my writing reviewed by an author whose work I admire? More than a little nerve-wracking! I delayed opening the email until I was home, in case it was overwhelming. Honestly, I’m glad I did because the second I read it, I was grinning and kicking my feet! Holly had written the loveliest things! Praise for the lines I thought worked, laughter in all the right places and constructive feedback on how to sharpen the passage – all of which I agreed with. There’s nothing more validating than having an author whose work you enjoy, write positive and helpful things about your draft. It was exactly the boost I needed. 

Following on from this, we had a one-to-one in which I was able to sound out a new idea I had for the manuscript. In the past, I’ve talked myself out of changes that felt too wild or ambitious but being able to talk it through with Holly was a complete game-changer. She wisely advised me that it can often be some of the more ‘whacky’ ideas that are exactly what a manuscript needs (especially if you as a writer are casting about for these). I’m excited to be implementing my plan to help make my story even twistier, so, watch this space... 

In our tutor group workshops, we’ve played around with point of view and narrative distance (the latter took some time to get my head around). The interactive element to these sessions has been so fun and it’s given me even greater appreciation of everyone’s creative abilities! It’s also just enjoyable to have a play with writing, especially when I’ve been so head-down in my manuscript.   

There was one week this month when life was just too busy for me to manage the homework. What I appreciate so much about the course is that this was totally fine! There’s such an understanding amongst the tutors and other course members that life can sometimes get in the way. After all, we all have other commitments, be it work, caring responsibilities, health etc. I was so grateful to be able to step back for a week, then pick back up with the content when I was able. I struggle with writers' guilt on the days I don’t progress my manuscript, so I was very thankful that there was no additional pressure from the course.  

So, what’s my learning point from this month? 

It has to be about intention. Holly quite rightly challenged me to think about some of the decisions in my manuscript – mostly because they weren’t decisions at all, I’d just fallen into the ideas. They ‘felt right’ (I’m learning that I’m somewhat of a ‘vibes’ writer at times!) I’ve realised it can be so helpful to wind back and think about the WHY. Why this point of view, why this level of narrative distance, why this setting, this character? It’s not that I think my choices aren’t valid, but if I’m more intentional, I can use them to my advantage. And this is where I think I can really elevate my writing. So, if I were to share any tips from this month, it would be that – think about what key choices you’ve made for your book and either lean into them or switch it up. It doesn’t matter which, as long as you’re intentional

Want to follow in Rachel's footsteps? You can learn more about the Ultimate Novel Writing Programme and how it can help you on your writing journey.

Apply before 30 June 2026 to save 10% off our Winter 26/27 course (up to £603 / $774 USD!). Just enter code EARLY10 when you apply to secure your discount.

Ever read the first few lines of a story and just had to keep going? That’s exactly what the Friday Night Live (on a Saturday) competition is all about with the London Festival of Writing, but it's also about so much more. For example, last year's winner Kate Emilie kindly put together a guest article for us sharing her experience of the festival, competition and how it helped her land a two-book deal.

Don’t just take it from us. Let’s hear from some of last year’s finalists. They’ll tell you what the festival was like, how they found community and how those first few hundred words changed their writing game.

Tori Howe, 2025 Friday Night Live finalist

The London Festival of Writing was an incredible experience for me personally. I decided I had nothing to lose by entering the Friday Night Live (FNL) competition not expecting to get selected so when the email landed in my inbox telling me I was a finalist I was shocked & delighted.

I was nervous to read on stage, but I want to continue to grow as a writer and set an example to my children to ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’ in life. It was the first time I’d shared my romantic comedy material publicly, to hear laughter from the audience felt very gratifying and receiving live feedback from the judges was invaluable. 

At the festival I also had a One-to-One booked with an agent who gave me fantastic advice and encouragement. I left our meeting with my first full manuscript request and a renewed sense of focus on finishing the final third of my first draft. 

When I began querying a few months later I was fortunate to receive five offers of representation and have signed with my lovely agent (Sarah Brooks at Darley Anderson). 

I couldn’t have predicted any of this before the festival. The Jericho Writers team were a pleasure to deal with, their website is a treasure trove of resources. Meeting and chatting to other authors on the day and hearing inspiring talks were also highlights.

It’s a cliche but the writing community really is the best. All the FNL 2025 finalists have stayed in touch, and we continue to support each other a year later. 

Isabel Norris, 2025 Friday Night Live finalist

The London Festival of Writing was the very first writing event I attended, and I’m so glad I did. It was a truly transformative weekend for me. For a year beforehand I’d been working on my novel, watching the video masterclasses with Jericho, and even completed the Self-Edit Your Novel course, but it was the festival, where I had the opportunity to meet agents, industry professionals, and connect with fellow writers, that I finally felt like a ‘real’ writer. 

The Friday Night Live competition was the cherry on top of the cake of the weekend. To be chosen among so many talented writers was a thrill in itself, but to share the opening of my novel with the judging panel and a room full of my peers was both challenging and so rewarding. Though I didn’t win, I was approached by so many people that evening and the next day of the festival, many of them complimentary and excited by my work (one comment that my writing reminded them of Throne of Glass will stay with me forever!). That, and the bond I made with the other finalists, really gave me the confidence to start querying. Later that year I signed with an amazing literary agent, and I’m now preparing to get a new novel out on submission to publishers with them.

I left the festival with a notebook full of ideas, new connections that kept me sane through the tribulations of querying (and no doubt will support me as I go on submission), and a beautiful sense that the writing community is truly something special. My advice to any authors considering attending? Go for it!

Laura Daniels, 2025 Friday Night Live finalist

The London Festival of Writing 2025 gave me a fabulous opportunity to meet industry professionals, experience a mix of writing craft and community, and submit to the competition. 

On hearing I had made the final of Friday Night Live, my excited shock quickly turned to panic. I was advised by friends to video myself reading my opening pages, which I duly did. It was initially toe-curling, but it gave me the opportunity to practice, and on the night, it helped me get on stage. 

Facing a ballroom full of industry professionals and writers was daunting, but once I began to read from SMILE WHEN I WAKE, I realised many in the audience were not looking up at me as they were listening intently, which made it less intimidating. 

Receiving positive feedback from the panel members and other writers was a huge boost and has encouraged me to hone my novel. 

As I embark on the submission process to agents, being in the Friday Night Live final is a lovely accolade to include in my covering letter and a memory to treasure. I am excited to return to this year’s festival!

Larry Reynolds, 2025 Friday Night Live finalist

Attending the Jericho Writers London Festival of Writing was an immensely beneficial experience - great workshops and a wonderful opportunity to meet other writers. Being shortlisted for the Friday Night Live event was a huge boost to my confidence. For the first time I felt like my work might be good enough to get published. I’ve stayed in contact with my fellow FNL finalists and have found their ideas and practical support invaluable. More recently I’ve received some incredibly useful feedback from a Jericho Writers editor and now I’m ready to start querying!

Davina Bhanabhai, 2025 Friday Night Live finalist

It’s fair to say that the 2025 London Festival of Writing aligned my writing constellations and helped me secure agent representation!

I was initially invited by Becca Day as a speaker to the Festival, to present a workshop about Authenticity Editing. I’d never been to a writing festival before and was thrilled that Becca gave me the push I needed (thanks Becca!), to attend both as a speaker and a writer. I invested in myself and bought tickets to the whole weekend and enjoyed a stay in our gorgeous capital city, London.

The weekend was packed full of great sessions and workshops, talks by authors such as Ruth Ware, Sophie Flynn, Becca Day, Nikesh Shukla and Aliya Ali-Afzal, advice from industry professionals and helpful feedback from agent one-to-ones.

I entered the Friday Night Live (on a Saturday!), not expecting anything given I’d never entered before. To my astonishment, I was one of eight top finalists, chosen to read the first 500 words of my fiction novel. I was nervous, but I enjoyed reading my writing to an audience of over 300 people and a panel of judges, who gave positive, live feedback afterwards. Though I didn’t win on the night, it still ended up being a winning month for me as I secured agent representation from one of the judges on the panel. The night also gave me the confidence and motivation to complete my fiction novel, which was subsequently longlisted for Simon & Schuster’s New Chapter competition. I’m now on submissions for a non-fiction book, as well as working on edits on my fiction book.

If you’re considering attending, do it. A day, two days, the whole weekend, it’ll help get your creative juices flowing and you’ll meet a community of fellow writers who enjoy the same things you do, ‘get’ your writing obsession and open up conversations with “So, what are you working on/writing?”, and who will become good writerly friends. It may just give you the push you need to believe in your dreams, network with an exceptional team of trusted experts at Jericho Writers (Kat, Laura, Emily, Tanya, Imogen to name a few!), to help you along the way…maybe it’ll help align your writing constellations, too!