The Cost of Connection: Reaching Young Readers Without Compromise

 Young readers have always been the heart of my audience. It is where I started my publishing journey twenty years ago, and I continue to write for them in my Draconim and MacIver Kids series. My stories are written for them—their grief, their fire, their fierce sense of justice. But I’ve also known I couldn’t, in good conscience, invite them into the same digital spaces that constantly exploit their attention, data, and trust.

From the beginning, I chose not to collect data through my author website. No mailing lists, no subscriber pop-ups, no personalized ads. Not because I didn’t want to grow—I did, and still do—but because I could never guarantee that data, once gathered, would be fully secure. And I wasn’t willing to risk the safety of the very readers I hoped to reach. Recent headlines—like “Hackers are targeting a surprising group ofpeople: young public school students” (OPB), “Thousands including childrenexposed in major data breach” (Tom's Guide), and “Children's data hacked after school software firm missed basic security step” (NBC)—should raise both our hackles and our awareness. If even large institutions can’t protect children’s data, how can we?

It’s a quiet stance. One that looks a lot like doing nothing. In a publishing world that rewards metrics, funnels, growth curves, and mailing list conversions, my refusal can seem naive or self-sabotaging, and perhaps it is. After all, I depend entirely on book sales—and limiting the tools I can use to reach readers is counterproductive.

But it has always felt necessary.

A Loophole Culture

Social media has long been a tool used to skirt the very laws and codes designed to protect young people. Take for instance the “Broadcast Code for Advertising To Children” in Canada. It includes clauses like “Children’s advertising must not directly urge children to purchase or urge them to ask their parents to make inquiries or purchases.” and “Direct response techniques that invite the audience to purchase products or services are prohibited.” These principles exist in many countries in some form—yet across the board, enforcement is inconsistent, and social platforms often act as if they exist above those rules. Laws like COPPA in the U.S. or GDPR-K in Europe were intended to shield minors from exploitation, but their enforcement has been limited—especially when it comes to influencer-style content and microtargeted outreach.

Advertising to children is supposed to be strictly regulated—on paper, at least. In practice, platforms like TikTok and Instagram offer frictionless access to teen and youth audiences, and authors are often encouraged to "just be authentic" as a workaround to the advertising rules that apply more directly to traditional media.

The problem is, many of us aren’t just being authentic. We’re building brands. We’re tracking engagement. We’re optimizing hashtags, timing posts, and nudging readers toward buy links. And if that’s not advertising, it’s close enough to feel uncomfortable—especially when we’re doing it in a space where our readers are young, impressionable, and often invisible behind anonymous handles.

It’s not that I blame authors for using these tools. The pressure to be visible in an attention economy is enormous, especially for indie creators without a marketing department behind them. But I do think we need to talk more honestly about what we’re doing when we use social media as our primary path to young readers.

Many find reassurance in using trusted platforms to manage their mailing lists. These tools offer a layer of protection—but is it enough? And is the platform you're using compliant with the privacy laws of every country your readers might live in? How many of us have downloaded our subscriber lists to a personal device, just in case—and how secure is that laptop, really?

A New Landscape, Or Just a Clearer One?

With the UK’s new child safety regulations coming into force—laws that challenge how platforms host content likely to be seen by minors—we may be entering a new phase. Not a surprising one, but a clarifying one.

These changes could make it harder for YA authors to reach their intended audience directly. Algorithms may become less predictable. Accounts may be flagged, content shadowbanned, or reach throttled. And while that may feel like a setback, it might also be a long-overdue signal: the system we’ve all been relying on was never built for this kind of outreach. Not ethically. Not safely.

At the same time, the alternative paths we once relied on—the slow, steady routes through schools and libraries—are becoming less accessible too.

The Gatekeepers Are Shifting

Once, we relied on librarians, teachers, and booksellers to act as bridges between authors and young readers. But in an era of rising book bans, state-mandated curriculum restrictions, and moral panic over what young people should be “allowed” to read, those bridges are burning.

The people most qualified to guide youth toward challenging, expansive, and compassionate stories are under siege. And in many cases, it’s indie authors—especially those writing about climate, queerness, neurodiversity, or racial justice—who are most likely to be locked out of institutional channels.

We are being squeezed from both ends: told not to market to teens and youth directly, while also losing the allies who once helped us reach them responsibly.

Do We Need More Laws, or Just Better Ones?

One could argue that what we really need is tighter digital regulation—more protection for minors, clearer rules around consent and data, and harsher penalties for platforms that fail to comply.

But part of me wonders: do we need new laws, or do we just need to enforce the ones we already have? And shouldn’t those same standards apply not just to corporations with billion-dollar ad budgets, but to the everyday content creators who are (often unwittingly) playing by the same exploitative playbook?

What would it look like to create outreach strategies that serve young readers without exposing them? What would it mean to design tools that indie authors could use—tools designed with care, not conversion—in mind?

What Comes Next?

I don’t have perfect answers—or any answer really, only questions. I only know that I want to reach young readers without compromising their safety—or my ethics. I want to be part of a world where stories meant for teens can find teens without relying on the same systems that have failed them in every other way.

So I’ll end this with a question: what would help us get there?

If you're a parent, indie author, publisher, bookseller, librarian, coder, educator—anyone asking the same questions—I'd love to hear your thoughts. What tools do we need? What models could we build? And what would it look like to imagine a future where our connection to young readers is built on trust, not surveillance?

Let’s talk. Share your thoughts and suggestions in the comments here, or on Threads.

And if you don’t have answers yet—that’s okay. I don’t either. This isn’t a test, it’s an invitation. A space to wonder, to question, to imagine something better—together.

Support Independent Content Creation

I know, I know, I know...

These donation messages can be intrusive. I understand that. (Trust me, I feel awkward writing them too!)

But reaching out like this is crucial. Being reader-funded gives my work something valuable that many content creators don't have: true independence.

1. Your support means I can write about what matters. I'm not chasing sponsorships or compromising my voice to please advertisers. I can pursue stories and topics I believe are important, creative, and thoughtful, regardless of their commercial appeal.

2. Your support means I don't have to chase viral trends. Instead of engineering clickbait or jumping on every passing bandwagon, I can focus on creating thoughtful content that genuinely adds value to your life.

3. Your support means this content remains freely accessible. My work stays available to everyone, including those who can't afford to contribute financially right now. Quality independent content should be accessible to all.

I understand not everyone is in a position to contribute, but if you found any value in this post you can

For the price of a coffee, you'll enable me to invest more time in creating in-depth, creative journal posts and episodes of the Stone & Signal podcast. If you'd like to contribute more, consider purchasing one of my e-books (priced at roughly two cups of coffee) – a way to support my work while gaining additional value for yourself.

Thank you for considering. Your support makes all the difference.