Understanding Upmarket Fiction

By Callie Stoker

In the ever-shifting world of publishing, buzzwords appear in query letters in hopes of catching an agent’s eye and landing a deal. Words like whimsy and quirky have been around for ages; trends such as own voices (hopefully a lasting movement in the right direction rather than a passing fad) have reshaped conversations about representation. And of course, there’s the perennial favorite: “standalone with series potential.”

But lately, you may have been hearing about upmarket fiction or book club fiction. What do these terms actually mean?

Upmarket fiction bridges two styles of writing that have long been seen as opposites: the literary and the plot-driven. It’s the recognition that a fast-paced, page-turning story can also include the depth, language, and human insight associated with literary fiction.

Since “book club fiction” and “upmarket fiction” are often used interchangeably, it’s not surprising that the category first gained traction in women’s fiction turned mystery-thriller. The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins and The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn are prime examples—books that publishers can’t get enough of. But upmarket fiction isn’t confined to women-led thrillers. We’re now seeing this blend of literary style and commercial pacing spread across genres.

Which brings me to Addie LaRue.

The Case of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

V.E. Schwab’s The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue (2020) spent months on bestseller lists, became a book club favorite, and recently earned a film adaptation. It captured attention not only with its stunning cover—depicting the main character’s constellation of freckles—but also with its captivating premise.

A young woman in 18th-century France, desperate to escape a life chosen for her, makes a midnight deal with an unseen power. Her wish to live freely is granted—but literally. Addie becomes immortal, forgotten by everyone she meets, leaving no mark on the world. Ultimate freedom? Or eternal curse? Everything changes when she meets someone who remembers her.

The concept is wonderful, the shifting timeline keeps readers engaged, and Schwab’s prose—if you’ve read A Darker Shade of Magic or Vicious—is lush and evocative.

Schwab demonstrates that expressive writing doesn’t have to be slow or self-indulgent, nor must it come at the expense of story momentum. Addie LaRue is a brilliant example of how style and substance can coexist.

So, if writing upmarket fiction is your goal—or if you simply want to strengthen your wordcraft—let’s look at how Schwab uses adjectives, similes, and metaphors to create an experience worth revisiting, not just for the plot, but for the beauty of the language itself.

Wielding Simile and Metaphor

You’ve heard it before: adding depth often means adding description. But description doesn’t have to become purple prose. Instead, comparison—through simile and metaphor—lets writers tap into a reader’s existing experiences and emotions, enriching a moment without over-explaining it.

In the novel, Addie cannot tell others the truth about herself. Lies come easily as she drifts through life as an unremembered shadow. This information must be conveyed clearly, yet too plain a telling would lose the novel’s voice and mood.

Telling only:

“She will learn in time that she can lie and the truth will always be hard to say.”

Telling plus showing/description:

“She will learn in time that she can lie, and the words will flow like wine, easily poured, easily swallowed. But the truth will always stop at the end of the tongue. Her story silenced for all but herself.” (p. 63)

The first version is flat and factual; the second sings. Schwab’s use of comparison—the words flowing “like wine”—creates immediacy and texture. Readers already know how wine pours and tastes, so the metaphor effortlessly conveys ease and temptation.

Notice, too, that Schwab stays “on brand” for Addie LaRue. Her imagery often reflects her French origins and timeless existence, creating cohesion between style and character.

What Do You Want Readers to Feel?

One of the core differences between literary and plot-driven fiction lies in purpose. Plot-driven fiction thrives on momentum—the desire to uncover secrets and reach the ending. Literary fiction, by contrast, centers on experience—the intimate, human moments that reveal emotion and meaning. It’s not always about what happens, but how it feels.

Consider this passage from Addie LaRue:

“Outside, the white marble sky has cracked, letting through thin bands of blue. The cold has burned off, and Addie finds a café with sidewalk seating, busy enough that the waiter only has time to make a pass of the outside tables every ten minutes or so. She counts the beats like a prisoner marking the pace of guards, [and] orders a coffee.” (p. 126)

The moment is simple, even pleasant—but the choice of words adds unease. “Cracked” instead of “cleared” or “softened” injects tension, while comparing the waiters to “guards” subtly evokes Addie’s loneliness and confinement. Schwab’s language makes us feel what Addie feels.

If It’s Important to the Character, Make It Important to the Reader

In Addie LaRue, a wooden ring carved by her father becomes a symbol of the life she gave up—her tether to humanity and loss. Schwab ensures the ring carries emotional weight every time it appears.

“It is a ring. A small circle carved of ash-gray wood. A familiar band, once loved, now loathsome.”

“Addie leaves her old clothes strewn like a shadow across the dressing room floor. The ring, a scorned child in the corner.” (p. 21)

The comparison of the ring to “a scorned child” deepens our connection to the object, allowing readers to share Addie’s grief and guilt.

Try a Little Upmarket Fiction

If you’re plot-driven at heart, take a cue from the literary side. Use language to not only deliver a great story but also evoke an emotional response. There’s incredible value in both approaches—the pacing of plot-driven fiction and the beauty of literary prose.

As you return to your writing, experiment with vivid comparisons, sensory details, and emotional symbols. You’ll craft richer, more resonant stories—and maybe even catch the attention of publishers looking for the next unforgettable upmarket hit.

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Callie Stoker is an editor with almost two decades experience. Her business The Manuscript Dr offers coaching and editing services. We believe that writing is a skill that can be taught through the application of individual tools. We love helping our clients elevate their abilities and reach their publishing goals. Callie has three children on the Autism Spectrum and ADHD and is a champion for neurodiverse representation. She was a guest on Brandon Sanderson’s podcast Writing Excuses and is a member of the Editorial Freelancers Association, League of Utah Writers, and DFW Writers Workshop. She currently resides in the Dallas, TX area.

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