Somewhere along the way, writing a book became more than just something authors did. It became a kind of calling card. A deeper way of showing up in the world, especially if you’re already writing, coaching, teaching, sharing in public. People now say, “Write a book to build your brand.” And many of us do.
But what they don’t always say is this: writing the book is just one part of it. Once the book is out in the world, it finds a second life—one you can’t always predict.
Your book might get passed from hand to hand. It might sit quietly on someone’s shelf for months before it’s picked up. Or it might end up in a 15-second video on someone’s phone screen, their voice shaking slightly as they read aloud a line that cracked something open in them.
That last one? It’s happening more and more.
The book world has changed. The reader hasn’t.
There’s a quiet shift happening in how people find books now. Not through catalogues or bestseller lists. Not always through reviews or launch events. But through other readers, especially the kind who record themselves crying over your chapter fifteen on BookTok, or post a close-up of a line from your book under soft morning light on Instagram.
These aren’t influencers in the traditional sense. They’re readers, mostly. Sometimes very young. Sometimes very loud. Sometimes deeply shy. What they have in common is that they feel something when they read, and they share it.
The algorithms might amplify them, sure. But it starts with that feeling. And that’s something a book can still do, in the quietest, most human way possible.
So what does this mean for those of us making books?
I don’t do book PR. I don’t teach TikTok. But I do work closely with writers who want their books to move people, whether that happens in a room of ten or a feed of ten thousand.
And I’ve started to notice something. This new reading culture isn’t separate from the writing process. It’s shaping it.
No, I don’t mean you should write for the algorithm. Please don’t. But I do think there’s something powerful in knowing the spaces where books live now. And how they’re felt.
It’s the reason I now ask:
– Is there a line that might stay with someone long after they’ve turned the page?
– Do the emotional beats feel real and earned, not just clever?
– Is the story saying something that someone might need to hear at exactly the right time?
– Are we clear about what this book wants to leave behind in its reader?
These aren’t strategy questions. They’re editorial ones. And they matter because books are being read differently now—more viscerally, more vulnerably, more publicly.
A different kind of word-of-mouth
You might think all this digital sharing means books need to be louder, shinier, twistier. But I’ve seen quiet books go viral too. I’ve seen tiny paperback debuts get picked up by one person with 200 followers, and suddenly sell out because their heartbreak felt real, and the story did too.
So no, you don’t need to be performative. You just need to be honest.
That’s what people are sharing now. Not polish, but presence. Not gimmicks, but something that cracked them open a little.
And as your editor, that’s where I stay focused. On the line that matters. The paragraph that lands. The pages you were almost too scared to write but wrote anyway.
Just in case someone’s listening
Whether you’re writing a book to build your brand, share your story, or simply because you need to, your book will find its way. Maybe it’ll be a quiet journey. Maybe it’ll be a surprise. Maybe someone will whisper it into a camera, post it in a sleepy timezone, and go to bed not knowing they just changed the shape of your book’s life.
It’s strange and beautiful, this new way books travel.
And no, we can’t plan for it.
But we can be ready for it.
That’s what the edit is for.