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Getting from Hack Writer to Pro

Copyright © 2025 by Dorian Scott Cole

It’s not my position to tell you what skill level of writer you are. I can give you a guide to help you decide what you want to improve to move up. This is about getting better.

The reality of the market

Your skill level doesn’t mean not to try for the gold ring with your story. It’s often the idea that sells.

There are huge opportunities online for publishing novels. Successful novels often become movies. But success with novels usually means you need a following, or have to advertise. Advertising is expensive.

The reality is, if the audience can’t see your novel among the eleven-thousand submitted daily, it doesn’t exist. It seems everyone is a writer, so competition floods the market way beyond being manageable for readers and writers. Changing the color of the paper doesn’t help.

Opportunities for screenplays are more limited. Around fifty-thousand make it to Hollywood each year where they become litter. Hollywood makes a handful of movies a year from the thousands of independent submissions. Independent producers also make movies.

It’s very expensive to make and advertise a movie, so producers and investors only work with those they know have the skill for market success, and with those who share their vision, which usually only agents know.

The market isn’t kind to independent writers. For those who judge their professional skill by market success, it’s a fool’s journey. The market has little to do with any individual’s skill level. It’s a shot in the dark. But the most skilled are much more likely to find success, especially if they are already successful.

So those who judge professionalism based on whether a writer is published or self-published, full time or part time, has sold a screenplay, has had a movie made, or is published in magazines… they have no clue what they’re talking about. Even well published writers today self-publish.

Anyway, there are always contemptible people who spend their time criticizing, coming up with nonsense like, “Those that can’t, teach.” Over thirty years, I’ve made a lot of money as a writer, am published, and am also self-published in niche markets. I write fiction and nonfiction, and do it full time. Do I teach? I’ve spent more than my fair share of time “teaching” others and mentoring them, including writing free books for them.

Do audiences want your story?

Audiences are fickle and look for different things. Themes get boring, but some want the same type of story repeated over and over. Romance and action are typical examples. Hack writers can pump out story after story and audiences will like them. Not that writing in this category makes anyone a hack.

Others want a story with deep characterization, presenting characters with whom they can relate. It’s a solid market. These are compelling stories and people want to see them. Still others want something unique. Uniqueness is the ultimate prize. It sells.

What do I know?

As a Senior Story Analyst for L.A.’s Writers Workshop last century, it was my job to help writers get to the next level or get an agent by critiquing their screenplays and giving feedback to help them improve.

This century I saw the display of skill levels in hundreds of focus groups on TV pilots. Each session, from the backroom, I watched audience reactions on five new pilots written by professional writers.

Three went right down the toilet with a whimper. The audiences said, “Meh,” or “We hate it.” Two went into production and display, and at the end of a year only one remained.

For me their fate was generally easy to predict. I know what works in a story to please an audience. Four simply didn’t have the “it factor.” Neither the writing nor the actors were able to stand out above the crowd with confidence and charisma, to give us something interesting and compelling. In short, the audience didn’t care about them. Hundreds of hours of writing time and expensive production time were wasted.

The writing is the primary culprit. Sometimes it was the actors. But no matter how great the actor is, they can’t turn trash into treasure.

A scale of skill level helps writers know where they are

Many factors go into the success of a story. These include the writer’s knowledge of the vocations of their characters, knowledge of setting and ability to briefly describe it, their understanding of human nature and the human condition, and their skill level of putting these into a story. There are endless factors.

The ability of the writer to put this stuff into words is generally at one of four levels. In critiquing, it’s the job of the person doing the critique to give feedback on what the writer did well, and constructive feedback on how to move up a level.

Swamp the writer with criticism about why they aren’t on the best seller list or the silver screen, and it’s destructive and too much to take in. Moving up a level is all the advice they need.

Skill levels

The Unconscious incompetent

Hurray, you did a good job once, writing by the seat of your pants. It’s a major accomplishment to finish writing a story. Congrats! It’s unlikely you can repeat it because you have no idea what you did right or how to do it again. But keep trying. Practice is what it takes to make a good writer.

Conscious incompetence

You’re beginning to realize you don’t know how to make a story great and need help.

Conscious competence

You’re getting there. You understand how to do it, but it takes a lot of work and concentration.

Unconscious competence

Your skill is second nature so you repeat it effortlessly.

Writing takes practice

I may have seen one person who was born with the ability to produce great stories. If I remember their name, I’ll let you know. Never forget the power of an editor behind great writers.

How do you improve?

1. Understand the elements of a story.

1. The most important element is character interaction. This comes at the intersection of character motivation and conflict with the antagonist. This is what grabs your reader.
2. Practice writing very motivated characters. Flesh them out with normal human desires for things like success, love, sex, education, careers, hobbies, weaknesses and strengths, and look at Maslow’s Heirarchy of Needs.
   As someone who works with social psychology, I advise you to keep in mind that people are driven by their attitudes, not reason, and the strongest component of attitude is emotion that is born from experience. What they know means little to their motivation.
3. Practice writing scenes. Stories are composed of scenes. The heart of the scene is conflict. Only a few scenes are there to give information, and often these can be enhanced with conflict. The rest are there to move the story forward through conflict or confrontation.
   Write scenes endlessly. Write them one way and then write them again and make them turn out different. Get really good at it.
4. Understand story structure. Main characters are introduced in the first scenes, their motivation and moral character are displayed, and the conflict is introduced. The earlier the conflict and antagonist is introduced the more interest it gets.
5. Settings are much less important. They create mood and ambience but not take over the story. Your characters should interact with them. But character interaction with each other is what captivates people.
6. Add as much uniqueness as you can. This is more likely to get your story purchased or published.
7. Always have twists and turns so that the audience is on edge and the story isn’t predictable. Predictability is a funeral parade for stories.
8. Regardless of the genre, you can add the elements of mystery and suspense to make them more intriguing.
9. Rewrite. Rewriting is one major secret to story success. The story isn’t finished until you’re sick of rewriting it to make it the best it can be.
10. Get feedback from others if you can, but never base your rewriting on just one person’s feedback.
11. Make sure it’s grammatically correct. We all make errors. But we correct them. There are plenty of AI writing aids to check your work.

Example of weak and better writing

Following is an example of how a new writer puts the drama in a scene

John sullenly looked at Elizabeth as she opened the door of the room to leave. He couldn’t let the love of his life walk away. He went to her.

“I know I’ve hurt you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Elizabeth pushed on the door to force her way out. “I’ve heard it all before.”

“This time is different. I really will make it up to you!”

Elizabeth walked through the door and closed it behind her with finality.

Following is an example of how a professional writer puts the drama in a scene

The port was shrouded in premature darkness, the sky a canvas of black slashed by a violent red sunset announcing storms on the horizon. Thunder, a low, constant threat, rolled in from the sea, allowing no one to ignore the coming storms. The waves lashed angrily at the ship and the dock, stirred by an unsettled sea.

John’s car screeched to a halt at the dock. Red and blue lights pulsed across the wet asphalt, interplaying with the reflection from the red horizon, as police cruisers swarmed behind him, sirens wailing.

He spotted Elizabeth halfway up the ship's loading ramp, her hand gripping the railing. On sight of John, she sped up.

The ship’s horn blared departure with a single blast. Crewmen in navy uniforms were already dismantling the banner that had welcomed boarding passengers, its colorful fabric flapping in the stout sea wind. The barricade, a heavy chain strung between metal stanchions, was being lowered. Elizabeth quickened her pace, nearly stumbling with her heavy bag.

Heartbroken and in tears, he barreled past the men, jumped the barricade, and ran up the ramp for the woman he loved.

Ignoring the shouted commands of the arriving officers, he vaulted the chain—the metal clanging loudly against the stanchion as one foot caught it—and sprinted up the incline of the ramp. The rough metal grating vibrated noisily with each heavy foot fall.

Spotting John coming, Elizabeth’s expression a mask of fear and desperation, she began to run, struggling with her heavy bag over her shoulder that slowed her. She wrestled it off, dropping it heavily onto the ramp, then dragged it behind her, the fabric scraping against the metal.

The gap narrowed. John reached the top of the ramp just as Elizabeth reached the ship's open doorway. He lunged, placing himself squarely in her path.

The ship's boarding area, a brightly lit space with polished metal railings and plush seating, was crowded with passengers, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern. A uniformed guest services officer, his expression tight, stood nearby. All eyes were on the unfolding drama.

“Please, I beg you, don’t do this.”

Elizabeth shoved him, her eyes flashing with strong resolve, but he stood firm. She glanced desperately at the guest services officer, a silent plea for intervention. The officer hesitated, caught between protocol and the raw emotion of the scene.

“I know I hurt you. I can change! I won’t do it again.”

“I’ve heard it all before. Get out of my way,” Elizabeth hissed, her voice laced with bitterness. Tears streamed down her face, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights of the ship.

“No. I can’t let you go. I can’t live without you. Please.” He reached for her hand.

She hesitated, compassion and love overcoming her.

“Please. Help me be a better man.”

The ship’s horn blew angrily at the feuding lovers, stirring her feelings back to anger. The guest services officer, finally spurred to action by necessity, stepped forward, placing himself firmly between John and Elizabeth.

Anger rising inside her, she said, “I tried that. You can’t change.” She looked to the guest services officer who stepped forward and placed himself between them.

“Sir,” he said, his voice firm and official, “If you don’t have a ticket, the ship is leaving now. Please go back down the ramp.”

Elizabeth, her face now resolute, turned and disappeared into the crowd of passengers, the ship swallowing her whole.

John, filled with grief, stumbled blindly down the ramp, then stood frozen, watching the gap widen, the vast expanse of dark water separating him from the woman he loved. He barely noticed the police put handcuffs on him.

Will I ever have a second chance? He turned to the officer cuffing him, and screamed, “Will I ever get a second chance? I know she loves me!”

In this second account, note the following

• The use of a motif, the darkness and coming storms, to set the mood for the scene.
• The use of active verbs and visual words that draw a picture in the mind’s eye. Writers should work hard to present things visually.
• The use of the set as a character. The ship’s ramp and horn adds a note of urgency. The horn shocks Elizabeth, changing her mood from one of compassion back to one of anger.
• The police cars help add urgency and drama.
• The setting descriptions slow the dramatic action (pacing), making it more lasting and compelling.
• The guest services officer’s intervention and the ship’s departure add to the finality.
• John’s desperate cry to the arresting officer brings the scene full circle. This is finesse. It can be over when it’s over, or you can add finesse. Both count.
• I wish I could write as well as I do here. 😊 Please take this as encouragement and improve.

- Dorian

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