How to Get One Million Reads on Wattpad (a novel)

1) Meet Cute

Stacy's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the exhilaration she felt as she stole another glance at her phone's glowing screen. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, she reached forward and clicked on the notification.

Another comment on her chapter! She'd lost count of how many had come in this last hour.

They were from accounts she didn't recognize, just strangers who had stumbled upon her book, chose to read it, and were enjoying it.

Actual readers. Potential fans.

Before turning her eyes back to the road, Stacy noticed her phone battery was about to die. She had totally forgotten her charging cord at home, but luckily, she knew her way around the city and didn't need the maps app.

Her phone lit up again.

Unable to stop herself, she leaned forward and tapped the screen. The comment was one word: "Hot." She couldn't help but smile.

She'd never had this much engagement on a story since joining Wattpad back in her freshman year of college. Not even from book clubs. Maybe she was finally going to break through the clutter and be a success. Make it onto the home screen. Hit a million reads.

For a moment, Stacy's mind danced with visions of recognition, success, and a future filled with literary acclaim. Maybe she could turn writing into an actual career.

That would be so much better than trying to get excited about all the entry-level positions she'd been applying for.

Going to an office every day to make photocopies and file paperwork wasn't exactly a dream job. But with no genuine work experience, and only a BA in literature, she wasn't qualified to do much else.

Another comment popped up on her screen as Stacy slowed to make a right turn. She tapped the screen to read it. Distracted, she misjudged the corner, and the world snapped back into focus with a screeching jolt.

Her car shuddered to a halt, and a yellow light began frantically flashing on her dashboard. She realized, with a sinking feeling, she had a flat tire.

Panic surged through her, mingling with the metallic tang of regret. Her father's voice echoed in her mind, reminding her to be responsible. If she had just kept her eyes on the road, this wouldn't have happened. She bit her lip, frustration bubbling up inside her.

"Great, just great," she muttered, her voice breaking as she inhaled the bitter scent of burning rubber.

At least she was on a smaller road. No one was honking. There was little risk of another car crashing into her rear bumper. Things could be worse.

She exited the car, grabbed her phone off its magnetic cradle, and slammed the door behind her.

As she walked around the car, her suspicion was confirmed. A huge gash marred her passenger-side front tire. She had a massive flat.

With a sigh, she clicked on her phone to call her dad. But when she tapped the screen, it went blank.

The battery had died.

Shit.

Stacy sat down on the curb. The concrete was cold against her skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of her frustration.

Solutions whirled in her mind, none of them appealing: Knock on a stranger's door? Walk down the road and hope to find a gas station? She wasn't exactly sure where the nearest one was.

What did people do in these situations before cell phones?

She vaguely remembered her dad teaching her how to change a tire when she first got her license. But that was years ago. Even if she figured out how to take off the flat, there was no way she'd manage to install the spare safely enough to drive the car home.