I’ve sat across from authors in bookshop backrooms, over coffee, on panels and through pixelated video calls. Across formats and temperaments one thing becomes quickly clear: the questions we ask shape what we get. Ask for a sales pitch and you’ll get a jacket-blurb rehearsal. Ask for craft and you might be handed a map of the book’s machinery—how sentences were built, what choices haunted the draft, which small domestic decisions carried the weight of plot.

At Storyscoutes Co (https://www.storyscoutes.co.uk) I’ve spent years trying to coax those maps out of writers without making them feel interrogated. The aim isn’t to expose a formula or reduce a novel to a recipe; it’s to reveal process, intention and the human decisions that live behind elegant pages. Below I share the kinds of questions that actually open up good conversation—questions that respect the author’s work while giving readers a real sense of craft.

Ask about anchors, not summaries

When readers want to know “what it’s about”, they usually mean “what will I feel and learn reading it?” Instead of asking for a plot retelling, try to ask what scenes or images anchored the book in the author’s mind.

  • “Which single scene felt inevitable to you while writing?” This often reveals the book’s emotional axis and why other scenes exist.
  • “Was there an image or phrase you returned to while drafting?” Repeated images are rarely accidental; they’re the book’s quiet scaffolding.

These questions force authors to describe the book by reference points rather than marketable beats, which is far more useful for curious readers.

Probe early decisions

Writers make countless small decisions before a page is ever written. Ask about those and you’ll get at the sitting bones of a project:

  • “When you first had the idea, what did you imagine the voice/structure to be?” Many books evolve dramatically from first conception; hearing that arc illuminates craft choices.
  • “Did you outline or discover scenes as you went?” This helps readers understand whether the book is plotted, organic, or somewhere in-between—and why that matters for pacing and revelation.

Get specific about language

Authors love to talk about word choices when prompted correctly. Broad questions like “How do you write?” produce platitudes; specific prompts produce examples.

  • “Can you read a short paragraph you’re proud of and tell me what you edited out to get it there?” Hearing about excised lines or whole discarded images is gold—it highlights restraint and revision in a tangible way.
  • “Which sentence in the book took the longest to get right?” The answer often reveals surprising technical concerns: rhythm, diction, or even grammar choices that are deliberate craft moves.

Ask about influences as a dialogue, not a checklist

Instead of prompting an author to list names—which can become a performance—ask them to describe how a specific influence worked on them.

  • “You’ve mentioned [a specific author/book]—what one lesson did you bring from them into this project?” That turns influence into a practical tool rather than vanity linkage.
  • “Was there a book you returned to in the middle of writing as a kind of technical manual?” Many writers re-read a text not for pleasure but to learn how it handles time, dialogue or point of view; this frames influence as craftwork.

Focus on moments of failure and recovery

Asking about failure normalises the labor of revision and often yields candid answers. Writers are used to talking about inspiration; fewer are comfortable disclosing the work behind it.

  • “Was there a part of the manuscript you had to abandon entirely?” Abandoned sections reveal shifts in ambition and how the project’s scope was tempered.
  • “Tell me about the draft you hated—what did you do next?” Process-focused answers—rewrites, new outlines, even taking weeks away—show the structural habits that keep a project alive.

Ask for the secret rules

Every writer has constraints they impose—either to limit options or to produce a desired effect. Those constraints are pure craft.

  • “What rules did you give yourself during the draft?” Answers might include time-based constraints (write ten minutes a day), formal ones (no dialogue for a chapter), or tonal ones (avoid melodrama). These become practical tips for other writers and revealing curiosities for readers.
  • “What did you refuse to do, even when it seemed easier?” Where an author draws lines says a lot about values and taste.

Ask them to teach you

One of my favourite moves is to ask authors to show me how they would teach a single passage to a writing student. This flips the power dynamic: instead of a defensive author bragging, you get a generous explainer who breaks down a choice.

  • “If you were teaching a class using one paragraph from this book, which paragraph would it be and what three lessons would you extract?”

Make space for the unsayable

Not all craft questions are technical. Some get at the ethical or emotional lived decisions behind a book—especially important with books that represent marginal lives or historical pain.

  • “Were there moments you worried about fidelity or representation? How did you navigate them?” Sensitive, open-ended phrasing invites reflection rather than defensiveness.
  • “Where did empathy guide your choices, and where did restraint?” This asks about the balance between artistic honesty and responsibility to subjects or communities.

Practical tips for the interviewer

Finally, a few practical habits I use when I want craft, not promotion:

  • Do your homework. Reference a line, an image, or a lesser-noticed scene. Specificity shows respect and primes a craft-focused answer.
  • Use time wisely. Start with a short promotional question to warm up, then pivot to one of the craft prompts above.
  • Leave space to follow a stray thread. If an author mentions an editing trick or a failed chapter, ask them to tell that story. The best craft insights arrive via digression.
  • Read the book carefully. It’s the basic courtesy—but also the only way to spot the small, interesting details people actually want to hear about.

At Storyscoutes Co we’re interested in the small illuminations that make reading feel like discovery. When interviews centre craft, they become gifts: clarifying how a book came to be and offering readers a keener, kinder way to approach it. Whether you’re interviewing a debut novelist, a seasoned essayist, or a translator, these questions tend to turn promotional scripts into conversations you’ll want to revisit.