Tim White

The Fire: What Drives Me

Age ten: I wrote a 40,000-word novella—not only because I wanted to but also because I couldn’t not write it. (It sucked, but it had its moments.)

Age twelve: I reworked a bargain-bin, summer camp horror story and made it my own living, breathing nightmare—so much so that several counselors asked me to share my version with their campers.

Age seventeen: At the Arizona Academic Decathlon state finals, I won a gold medal in Speech for a nonfiction story I’d written about a girl I’d once loved—a girl who took her own life.

Age nineteen: A well-crafted story (Terry Goodkind’s Faith of the Fallen) literally saved my life and inspired me to start publishing my writing.

Age twenty-one: I completed my second full novel Threads of Eventide, got rejected by every publisher on Earth, and learned a lot.

Age twenty-five: I won a $3,000 college scholarship in a statewide essay contest that received thousands of submissions.

Age thirty-three: My 10,000-word article “Justice for Michael Jackson” went viral and was shared worldwide by Jackson’s nephew and by representatives of his estate.

Age thirty-seven: My third full novel The Nightmare Machine won some awards. More importantly, it reached at least a few of the right readers, and they felt it.

I could go on, but you get the point. I don’t just tell stories—I am a storyteller. It’s in my blood until the day I die.

The Forge: What I Do

I am invisible to nearly every aspect of the writing and publishing industries today, in both fiction and nonfiction. I have little presence on Amazon, Goodreads, and Bookbub—not for lack of effort but because those tools and systems are designed for “engagement” farmers, not craftsmen.

I’m okay with that. For me, nothing—nothing—comes before the story. Writing a great novel might take me two years or four. I might show up at fifteen conventions this year but only two next year (because, next year, I’ll need to stay focused on writing).

Every other author tells me I’m doing everything wrong—and by their standards, I am. I don’t need their standards because I’m not playing their game, and I don’t care about the things they care about. I would love to sell more books than I do, but I won’t sell out to do it.

Above all else, I care about one thing: being able to look you in the eye when I place a book in your hands and say: “This took every drop of blood and sweat I have, and I didn’t send it to the printer until I had nothing left to give.”

I bring the same standards—and the same fire—to my editing and coaching, in both fiction and nonfiction.

The Flamekeepers: Those for Whom I Keep Going

You’ve felt it in your bones for years: Most books being published today are hollow and forgettable at best or offensively bad at worst. Other people—even those who read a lot—look at you strangely when you say it out loud.

You’re not strange, and you’re not wrong.

In fiction, you want real stories again. You don’t want to “consume” books—you want to be changed by them. You want to put down a novel after turning the last page and feel twelve again (in all of the good ways and none of the bad ways).

In nonfiction, you want real books that offer new and valuable insights into topics that actually matter to real human beings—books written by experts who don’t care how many Amazon reviews they get and do care deeply about helping readers improve their lives in meaningful ways.

If you’re a writer of fiction, nonfiction, or both, these are the kinds of books you want to write.

You feel like you’re the last one left in the world who gives a damn, but you’re not. I give a damn, and I see you.

Welcome home.

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Elite Writing Academy is a tutoring program offered by Tim White Writing, a DBA of ATW Enterprises LLC