I'm Drowning in Bad Book Ideas.

Time to purge my mental attic of the nonfiction clutter.

Readers frequently ask what my next book is about, for which I haven’t found a great response. I am quickly learning that writing a book is not as difficult as identifying the right target audience for the ideas that are taking up space in my mental attic.

I began writing Chasing Picasso before I understood the industry definition of “nonfiction.” Most podcasts, videos, and blogs that cater to the nonfiction genre really describe subject-matter expertise, or “how to” content, at the core of the nonfiction book. The target reader is anyone who can directly benefit from learning and following the information provided. The target audience for how-to books is clear and direct.

In the business world, we see plenty of these “nonfiction” examples. Former corporate executives pen books about leadership, culture, and business strategy all the time. They use speaking opportunities to share leadership insights with a management audience that would most likely be interested in learning more. This allows them to promote and sell their books and establish their author brand. Sometimes they only write the book to monetize their consulting business, which really makes the book a lead-generation tool for the consultant.

I admit it is a smart strategy, and during my business career, I willingly read a lot of these types of nonfiction books. Even the books I was forced to read still counted as a sale for the author, so it is a strategy that works.

However, this definition of “nonfiction” was not what I had in mind when I wrote Chasing Picasso. Instead, the research into the Picasso theft led to more stories of local art crimes, interesting characters, and unbelievable information about the criminalization of art. The story was a fascinating premise too good to not tell. But it does not fit the formula to create a successful book, at least according to most nonfiction book marketing experts.

I wrote a well-researched book, but I don’t consider myself a subject-matter expert on the art market, art crime, or Picasso. Even if art museums were banging down my door to speak about it, I do not consider art expertise part of my author brand.

In the world of writers, there is a lot of talk about an author's brand.   I spent years working with branding concepts and strategies in the business world. In fact, I could write a book about branding, then follow the nonfiction coaching advice and market it through speaking engagements, generating a much clearer path to author success. I also have a consulting business so writing a “how to” book on branding seems like sound advice I should take. However, consulting is a side gig I chose to support my writing career, and not the other way around.

Still, as an independent author, writing for a small audience is not exactly a profitable venture. Writing Chasing Picasso was a passion project. The financial investment provided hands-on experience in the book market, and I am willing to take the loss. I can live with that justification once. I can’t live with justifying the loss a second time around. Finding a story that strikes a balance between passion and good business sense has become a royal pain in my ass.

I started looking at one of my favorite nonfiction authors, New York Times best-selling author Malcolm Gladwell, who wrote The Tipping Point, Blink, Outliers, etc. Gladwell delivers consistency through his storytelling ability and is not a “how-to” author.

Being forced to read an academic book on psychology and sociology would normally make me want to poke out my eyes. But Gladwell writes about these topics in a way that I enjoy learning about the peculiarities of human behavior. Gladwell is not a psychologist or sociologist. Instead, he spent years crafting his voice as a journalist reporting on research and statistics in this field for the New Yorker.

Researching and writing about the subjects for so long has made him a subject-matter expert, though in a different way than being an actual psychologist or sociologist. A writer can choose to become a subject-matter expert by spending thousands of hours researching the subject, networking with field experts, and fully understanding the ins and outs of the subject.

In either case, success in nonfiction seems to equate to subject-matter expertise no matter what. Without subject matter expertise, can a writer survive simply on interesting stories? The experts don’t seem to think so, and that is a problem with my ideas.

I have a bunch of stories collecting dust in my head and no clue when I will start on my next book. Some book ideas are connected to my professional expertise, which would be the most financially responsible path to take, but I lack the passion to pursue “how-to” books. And despite the heavy research effort into the art world, I do not want to become an expert in that arena either.

The remainder of the story ideas have no legs. Plus, the target audience is either too small or hard to define, which would be a financial risk, and potentially, a waste of time. Until I come up with ideas that check the passion and financial boxes (I’ll settle for breakeven), I am clearly not ready to work on my next book.

The best I can do for now is declutter the ideas that are taking up creative space. So, starting next week, I will deliver one story idea that will not make the cut for my next book. It could be a story about the giant human-like bones found in a cave along the Meramec River. Or it might be on the submarine that allegedly emerged from the Mississippi River that attracted the attention of the FBI. Or perhaps we’ll talk about the Missouri UFO flap of the 1970s, with a detailed account of my own close encounter from that decade. In any case, they are worthy of only a short story, so let the purge begin.