#AuthorsofInstagram: A Free Guide to Posting, Plus Bots, Bait, and Bad Takes

Introduction

If you’re an author for Tender and Tempting Tales, you’ve no doubt seen me around by this point in your email or on social media—moderating FB groups, following you on Insta, bugging you for promo material, and bragging about you wherever possible. If not, you may not know that I’m Social Media Manager over there, and mostly the marketing person. I make graphics and schedule them, form our content strategy, chase authors for promotional details, and basically shake the pom-poms. Sometimes I interview folks, make templates for them, or perform increasingly strange peripheral tasks, like making people wikis for my own sanity and entertainment (looking at you, Urna).

This has meant doing some dramatic leveling up in terms of overall marketing prowess, both on the creative and strategic end (which is by no means a complete process). I’ve taken marketing courses over at Inkers Con, read a bunch of explainers, studied other authors’ and other presses’ posts on social media (in between a lot of cat and Shire cooking content… and if you know me, you know the algorithm has definitely Got My Number). I see a lot of great stuff to do, stuff I would like to do better, a lot of sketchy things, and stuff I would like to avoid—and that I think you might want to avoid as well.

So why is this Part 1? I don’t have a Part 2 yet, but I’m virtually certain I will. Both of us, social media and me, are always changing, growing, and learning, and there will be new things to talk about and explain in the future. This information may become obsolete or incomplete, and I will do my best to correct that.

If you’re an author—or better yet, an #AuthorofInstagram—or you want to be, this post is for you. If you’re a reader, this post might also interest and entertain you, because I think you see a lot of the same content, or would like to engage with author and reader spaces on social media in a meaningful way. Or maybe you just want to know the tea. Either way, let’s go.

Why, When, and How to Post (Instagram Edition)

This was an issue for some of our authors at Tender and Tempting Tales. I believe Facebook and Instagram are powerful tools for getting seen, augmenting and developing your brand, expressing yourself, and keeping your own writing and output accountable. I also think it’s good for our authors and makes the anthology brand look good, so I put together a step-by-step guide for when, why, and how to post to Instagram, with some additional pointers for Facebook.

It’s a Google Doc and totally free; I just ask that if you do further share it, that you remember to attribute it to me and maybe send folks over here to the blog. I’ve seen a lot of authors on Insta purporting to be marketing experts and selling courses and seminars to their readers and fellow authors, and I just think that’s low. It’s we authors, reviewers, and readers versus the platforms, where we post content to make them money and make their platform a vibrate place to be, while we see very little transparency, accountability, or consistency back from the platforms. Since we’re all on the same side, I think we should help each other, not sell each other solutions that’ll become obsolete during the next code stack change anyways. (That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate a tip in the form of a coffee, of course, but I ain’t gating this stuff behind an act-fast-don’t-miss-it-special-one-time-sale-price of $97 for a Slides presentation with crappy audio.)

My guide to when, how and why to post, with a step-by-step visual walkthrough.

Someday I might also do a Canva tutorial just for authors, guiding folks through something essential, like a cover reveal post or a tropes post. If you’re coming from Photoshop or a similar program, the very paradigm of the Canva UI can be disorienting. It’s a powerful tool, but it takes some mastery to get right. If that’s something that interests you, please let me know in the comments or on some channel where you know how to contact me.

This is in the walkthrough, but my basic advice for posting on Instagram is to link your accounts through Meta, turn on post mirroring to Facebook, and post once a day. Why? It does keep you in front of people’s eyes, true, and Instagram best practices the internet over claim it makes the algorithm happy, but I have another reason for you, which is that it keeps you in training. It keeps you working on Canva (or your graphic-making, photo-editing program of choice), keeps you in practice, and provides you with a routine. It’s also an intentional, limited engagement with social media. Go to Instagram on purpose, check around, see what other authors are doing. Like your friends’ posts, maybe comment. Take a few notes. Make your post. Leave. Maybe come back later to respond to stuff, then leave again. This will keep your relationship with Instagram under your control and largely healthy.

Now, for what’s not in the walkthrough: Some things on Instagram to be looking out for.

Opining on History

Recently, an author I love was wrong on Instagram about history.

I know, it’s a deadly sin. And in principle, it doesn’t matter all that much, except….

It kind of does?

Okay, hear me out. We live in an era of rampant misinformation and low media literacy. People get an alarming amount of their news and understanding about the world from influencers. A writer with a HUGE following, like this person is, counts to some degree as an influencer.

It’s fine to share your opinion as an author—I’m doing that right now, after all. I also, in case some of you don’t know, have a PhD in English Literature, and I specialized in Early Modern literature and history. I had a history reading list for my evaluations and a history professor on my committee. My dissertation was archival and historically driven, largely focused on jurisprudence and court records, in addition to the literature in question. I also taught English at the college level for several years, by myself, without another teacher helping or guiding me.

All this is to say that I am an actual expert in a historical period of England and its literature, and I know what it means to become an expert and to gain expertise in a topic (namely an ulcer, a crippling caffeine habit, insomnia, and chronic wrist issues). I don’t say this to brag or wag my credentials around frivolously; I say this because I think too many people believe that “doing research” online or reading a couple books makes them an expert on a topic, or capable of opining on it to any great or useful degree. In this case, the author noted that people could “just Google” something, and a historical fact—or what looked like plain historical fact to her—would be plain to them. She was in fact, not just factually wrong, but categorically wrong about a huge portion of history and even the meanings of the terms she was using. She didn’t know what she didn’t know, and what’s worse, she was opining for no reason. In other words, winning this fact fight did nothing for her. And when an author has nearly 300 thousand followers, it amounts to spreading misinformation for the purposes of, essentially, just making content.

So what lesson can we take from this? I think when you’re making content, it’s worthwhile to consider whether you’re fighting a fact war or just sharing an opinion. It’s good to consider if you’re sharing what you know and if you’re offering people value. Are you reviewing a book? That’s a worthwhile use of your time and authority as an author. Are you talking about the world of publishing as you’ve experienced it or about the genre in which you write? You have experiential expertise in that topic, so your perspective is extremely worthwhile. Even if you’re just starting out, sharing your experiences is valuable to others. Are you writing about a genre you read all the time, and want to talk about trends in that genre? Do it! Does your identity or personal experience inform the way in which you read or watch media, and you have a unique perspective? Even better. Do you have a degree in history and valuable insights your readers might want to hear, which are tangentially related to what you write, as in the case of Urna Semper or Annie R McEwen? That is content of great value.

I offer this not to tell people to stay in their lane, but rather to inspire you to consider what amazing expertise you have to offer others, and to lean into it when crafting content like blog entries, skits on Instagram, or other personal and nonfiction content. One reason I’m writing this blog article is that, in the course of my work, I’ve picked up a lot of this stuff and thought it might be valuable. One thing I love reading about is the quotidian experiences and expertise of others, and I know I’m not alone. What weird corner of the internet do you hail from? What’s the tea on Crotchet TikTok? What was a weird scandal that you saw happen back on your fandom play-by-post RPG back in the day, and what did you learn from it?

You’re a storyteller. You have so much more to offer than bad takes on history.

#ThatHappened: Author Rage Baiting

As you know, I don’t make it a habit to engage in negative callouts. I can imagine a scenario where someone was acting so egregious that I would name names, but in most cases, I would rather note that I have seen something, use it as an example of what to avoid, and not send anyone to harass another author. I do this because I am conscious of the fact that, even though I have limited authority and reach now, I already have more than I had a few years ago, and a few years ago, I had more authority and reach in a variety of sectors than I did ten years ago. I could very well have more authority and reach still in a few years, and I don’t want an old post to be responsible for making anybody’s life miserable.

I also don’t want to create or contribute to a negative or bullying culture among authors and readers. It’s been my experience so far that romance readers and authors on Instagram are largely positive, uplifting with each other, and engage in a lot of live-and-let-live. That’s why when I see authors claiming they’ve seen or received certain comments, I tend to doubt them; even when I admit those comments may be real, I wonder immediately at the wisdom of sharing them in skits to thousands or tens of thousands of followers. In a lot of cases, when I see negative comments posted as a caption on an author’s Reel or photo, I don’t actually know that those comments are real or representative. Maybe someone said something like that somewhere, but was that comment really like this? Was there a wider context? Were they making a good argument? Were they being satirical, responding in bad faith, having a bad day, deep in a long argument back and forth with a troll? I can’t tell, because it’s been removed from its context.

In many cases, it looks to me like the engagement tactic called Rage Baiting.

One such author, our case study, is a notable contributor to this sort of rage bait. The author in question is a “No Spice” romance writer, which is great and awesome in principle, and I love that. I like a lot of their stuff, and I think their marketing is beautiful. I do, however, think the way they market the “No Spice” brand sometimes smacks of puritanism, persecution, and grievance. There’s nothing wrong with being critical of a perceived pressure in romance writing to be spicy and to write “smut.” I understand if it feels frustrating to have readers reject your work because it’s not spicy, or to see a predominance of marketing from spicy authors and to feel marginalized. I also think it’s clever to market oneself as a non-spicy romance author, to guarantee via your brand a reading experience that a certain audience wants and needs. (I think it’s a little preachy to call those books “Clean” or “Pure,” but if this is what the readers are looking for, sell to your market.) This author’s following shows me that there is a sincere desire out there for romance at a lower spice level, and for readers to have a guarantee that a particular author’s material is spice-free. (And given the absolute flood of completely gonzo recommendations I got on Amazon after reading my one for-research-purposes-only cozy omegaverse book, I can totally understand feeling a certain shock at just how much spicy content is out there.)

I’ve made the comparison that declaring yourself a no-spice author or reader might indeed garner strange reactions from those who enjoy smut, similar to the way people have been known to react if you tell them you’re vegetarian, vegan, or a teetotaler. It feels like a moral judgment, like someone is telling you there’s something wrong with eating meat, eating animal products, or drinking alcohol—or reading/writing smut. And maybe they aren’t. Maybe someone doesn’t eat meat because, like my friend Sabrina, they don’t like the texture. Maybe they don’t drink because, like my friend Will, they have alcoholics in their family. Maybe they don’t read smut because, like my friend Mark, written sex scenes just make them feel weird and awkward. None of these feelings are moral judgements.

But, and you knew this “but” was coming… that’s not always the case, is it? People opt out of eating meat and animal products quite often for ethical reasons, whether it be concern for the planet or animal rights. People opt out of drinking alcohol for moral and religious reasons the world over. And some folks do indeed avoid spicy romance for moral reasons; the word “smut” itself carries a connotation of moral judgment, no matter how much the rest of us have merrily snagged the title and worn it with pride. No-spice authors do market their books as “clean,” as in morally clean or pure, suggesting that spicy romance is unclean, impure. There is huge variation in this space, and I think there’s an underlying conflict lurking beneath the surface in Christian romance writing. Elisabeth Wheatley, for instance, is a Christian writer who writes spicy bits, but only in later books (she does slow burn) and only between married characters. She has, indeed, been accused of not being “Christian enough” as an author, and not just for this reason. (She notes that she is a Christian and an author, but not a Christian romance author, which is a useful distinction to make, even though her values do shine through in her work.)

The first post I saw from our “No Spice” author (that wasn’t a gorgeous marketing graphic) was a skit dramatizing a conversation between themselves—here the ur-no-spice author—and a spicy reader. It reminded me very much of conversations I’ve seen between vegetarians and those who feel judged by them, especially back in college. It also reminded me of the Shipping Wars. (If this is a foreign concept to you, first of all: that’s awesome, stay pure. Second of all, feel free to learn more from Sarah Z’s excellent and fulsome video essay on the topic here, or Princess Weekes’s excellent video essay on Purity Culture and fandom here.) If this had been the only post from this author on the topic, I probably wouldn’t be saying any of this, but the speed with which I did see it after following them should have warned me that I was in for a wild ride.

An early post that made me go “hmm” was a skit of this author miming herself calling the police after seeing a comment claiming that it’s okay for there to be sex in YA novels, implying that this person is a pedophile. I thought that was extreme, but I also thought it was a weird way of marketing oneself as a non-spicy author—essentially offering a refuge or a safe space in a world represented as dangerous, full of smut and groomers.

But the first thing I ran into that started to alarm me was the author—who has, I should add right now, 34 thousand followers on Instagram—making a photo-style post wherein they captioned themselves saying the following:

“Roast the person who left this comment: ’12-year-olds already know what sex is and should see it in young adult books. Sex ed in schools doesn’t cover enough as it is.’” The comments on this post are full of people calling this commenter a pedophile or a groomer. Let’s be clear: regardless of what you think of the opinion itself, this is an author with an enormous Instagram following commanding and giving permission to their followers to bully a type of commenter, a type of opinion. Not only is this author’s audience roasting the comment on this post, but they now have moral permission to do likewise wherever they see it elsewhere.

I’m not ashamed to say that this is utterly inappropriate. Regardless of the size of your following, if you’re an author, you should not be directing your readers and audience to dogpile others. The best thing to do with a comment that is thoroughly inappropriate on a post of yours—such as hateful language or slurs or anything like that—is to report it and remove it. Any amount of celebrity comes with authority, and authority comes with responsibility. I was keenly aware of this even in a classroom setting, back when I was a teacher, and I had to consider the sort of environment I encouraged and nurtured. What did I allow? What did I quickly shut down as inappropriate? What did I lift up as an example of good conduct in my classroom community?

I do not believe that we should engage in toxic positivity and never point out things that are wrong. I’m here right now, being critical of a thing that I think is wrong. However, I do think that if you curate a bullying and negative culture on your Instagram, among your followers, that culture is not only going to bite you in the ass, but the asses of all authors on Instagram. That was the case in the fandom shipping and purity wars. I think it behooves all of us to do our best to keep Author Instagram an empowering, uplifting, exciting, and largely positive place. That’s a thing to think about when you’re on there posting and commenting. What are you adding to the author community? Are you lifting other people up, being earnest and excited for their success? Are you adding tools that can help support and build up other people? Are you providing interesting tidbits of your writing and process, offering value for your followers? Or are you encouraging bullying and dogpiling?

It's very possible for authors to be and do both. Doing the right thing is a choice you make every day, every minute, every second. Even if you’ve been super negative or encouraged dogpiling in the past, or engaged in it yourself, now is always the right time to decide to do something else. When I was very young, I was that person who reacted to a friend who decided she was going vegetarian with criticism and claims that she didn’t know how to get enough protein. I did this because deep down I knew that, as an environmentalist, my decision to keep eating meat was morally inconsistent with my values. I expressed that as a weird projected form of scrutiny and doubt, trying to render the decision to be a vegetarian illogical, so I didn’t have to contend with it. I was an idiot. I learned from that experience, obviously, and I think making the decision to support and uplift people in their preferences and lifestyle decisions now is a way of redeeming that idiocy and jerkitude—or at least making sure I don’t do it again.

The Authors’ Paradise: Who the Hell Keeps Leaving These Comments?!

Since I started posting as an author on Instagram, I was baptized in the universal rite of all #AuthorsofInstagram: totally useless and bewildering comments on my posts from random people pointing me to aggregation accounts like The Authors’ Paradise.

As noted in the last section, I don’t engage in callouts unless someone is doing something egregious. This is what I was thinking about. Prepare to be burned, Author’s Paradise, Author’s Haven, and all the rest of you content-farming, author-spamming bastards.

As you smart, media-literate folks probably guessed, all these random accounts spamming my posts (and, statistically, your posts) are bots. They make exactly the same comment every time. Here’s one on my post:

Here’s another couple on Marissa’s post:

Here they are ordering me to send them content:

Here’s “United Writers,” which sounds for all the world like a union (ha), asking me if I want to see packages to pay them to promote my books (as a reminder, my stuff is serialized online or in anthologies):

Now, what is this? I’ve been following these people around Instagram, hiding and reporting their comments, blocking their bots, checking out the accounts the bots are promoting, and looking at their messages with curiosity for a while now. The scheme is an interesting one. It’s a great way to farm content, right? Instagram pays them for getting a large number of followers and views, and authors send them the content, and in some cases, pay them for promoting it. The bots act on their own, seeking writer content and spamming it, sending views to the home account. The summaries for each book, “recommending” it, are either written by the authors or generated by AI. The books themselves are undifferentiated, from across genres, quality standards, and categories, and the accounts have no intended audience or curated content beyond “books.” There’s no person here with taste or preference or a personality, earning a following based on the audience’s trust and the content creator’s integrity. It’s just straight-up content farming, zero effort, and worst of all, it’s preying on smaller indy authors who would do anything to get eyes on their stuff and a little bit of traction in that pitiless algorithm. The follows themselves on these accounts could also consist largely of bots. When you go to the comments for these posts, they have all the telltale signs of also being bots.

It's a scam. Block, report for spam, hide the comments, don’t encourage them. And for the love of god, never pay these people a cent. Support real people who review and recommend books, like Bea at Mama Needs to Read Books. Send them your ARCs, thank them for what they’re doing, give them views, like, follow, comment, subscribe! Keep Bookstagram human.

Conclusion (for now….)

I think most of my advice for posting content anywhere, especially to find and connect with readers, is this: Own it. You control it, or it will control you. Be intentional and limited in scope. Go beyond the simple precept to not be an asshole; instead look for ways in which you can be radically good and kind, helpful and encouraging. As in roleplay, I always recommend that people Play to Lift.

This post is by no means exhaustive. I’m sure that, starting tomorrow, I’ll start seeing some new trend or tendency that deserves to go into a post of this kind. I’ll make notes, build them up, and start again. I’m sure there will be a Part 2, at least—I think a Canva guide is called for as a companion—and we’ll see if it deserves to be a series.

A silver lining, and a course for moving forward: I still follow that no-spice author. Today, she shared a carousel that was incredibly kind and understanding about an issue that absolutely enrages much of Author Instagram—book pirating. I liked this post and wrote her an encouraging comment, rewarding her for this sort of content. I may in fact tell her, at some point, that I think this sort of thing represents her and her values well… much better than the negative stuff. Rage Bait works because people engage with material that pisses them off, and they tend to ignore the positive, uplifting, excited, self-promotional stuff that writers post. If you, like me, want to turn this around, reward the good stuff. Tell people what you like about their posts. Tell them a cover looks gorgeous.

Spread the love.

(Report the bots.)