A Tale of Two Readers
By John Vorhaus | June 28, 2012 |
Last night I ran into two people who’d just read Lucy in the Sky. Well, one had read it. The other listened to the MP3 – my self-described “awesome author-narrated audio” – and he had a few comments about that. I could see that he was afraid of “hurting the writer’s feelings,” but I encouraged him to be candid with me, because actual factual feedback from actual factual readers is to me a pearl of great price. Good news, bad news, I don’t care; bring it on! Well, he said that as a narrator I was only okay, not nearly as good as the pros he usually listens to. When he saw that his critique didn’t cripple me, he explained that I had a monotone thing going on, which made for difficulty distinguishing characters.
Okay, that’s a note I can take. What else you got?
He said he found it a “fast listen,” just five and a half hours, whereas most of the books he listens to – and he listens to many – run eight to ten hours or more. So a fast listen, is that a good thing or a bad thing? Not either one, really, it’s just that it butts up against his expectation for longer works with more fully realized worlds. That’s a note I can use, too, for I already know of my struggle with detail. I love to cheat detail because I hate doing research. In fact, I have tried to make accelerated pace a virtue of my work specifically because I hate research. As a consequence, this work feels thin to this listener’s experienced ear. If I want to make him part of my audience, I have to think about serving his needs with more detail. Which means more research.
God, I should really embrace research.
When I get usefully critical notes like this, I try to focus not on how the information makes me feel but on how I can use it to improve what I do. That’s called filtering information through process, instead of through ego, and it really works. It’s not that you don’t have an emotional response to criticism, it’s just that you don’t let it drive the discussion, and you don’t let it get in the way of what’s useful. But this guy’s note struck to the core of my deep shame – I cheat research! – and how could it not make me go, “Ouch, my feelings”?
Now stick a pin in that while I tell you about the other reader, the one who wanted to tell me that he hadn’t had a more exciting read in ages, that he sat down and devoured Lucy in a single sitting, and afterwards felt totally turned on. He compared me to Tom Robbins.
Tom Robbins!
Wow, how do my feelings feel now? My big head wants to swell up and explode because, golly, Tom Robbins, he’s been my idol all along. But I’m going to use my process filter here, too, and go to school on what I did right for this reader, so I can do it right next time, too. Because what I’m hearing is that my novel got him off, and getting readers off on my novels is really what I want to be about. Pace, I know, is part of that. I like to write books you can devour in one sitting. It pleases me that people read them thus. But what if I want to satisfy that other reader, too, the one who wants more meat on the bones? Should I sacrifice pace to meet his need for more detail? Hmm. ‘Tis a puzzle.
The best writing advice I know is, “Keep giving them you until you is what they want.” In writing Lucy, I discovered something of lasting value to myself as a novelist: a way to write words that resonate deeply for me and, as evidence indicates, resonate for some others as well. I can keep giving them that. I think I can. Should I strive for no more? Or should I try to take my game to the next level? Embrace the damn research so that the worlds of my story are both richly realized and emotionally resonant? Can I project increasingly textured and complex realities onto the page? Or will I be content to keep hitting the same target every time, now that I know what it is, and know that I know how to hit it?
Well, another piece of advice I know is, “Go off in all directions at once, you’re bound to arrive somewhere eventually.” What I take away from this tale of two readers is to keep playing to my strengths yet still shore up my weaknesses. I remind myself to detach from my feelings – or no, not detach from them; honor them, but keep them in check – and use the information I receive, bad news and good news alike, in humble service to the work.
So by what perverse logic am I now going in entirely the other direction and writing a dark – virtually mirthless – mystery? Folks, mirth is an absolute strength of my game. Why would I turn my back on that? Sheer cussed-mindedness, I guess. Since everything I write teaches me something I didn’t know before about writing and about myself, it stands to reason that while I’m ready and willing to go off in all directions at once, I have a predilection for the new. But don’t all self-respecting writers always want to break new ground in their work? And don’t I want to be one of them? Of course I do.
Except for the research.
I just can’t wrap my brain around that.
Photo by salamanca.
John Vorhaus has written seven novels, including Lucy in the Sky, The California Roll, The Albuquerque Turkey and The Texas Twist, plus the Killer Poker series and (with Annie Duke) Decide to Play Great Poker. His books on writing include The Comic Toolbox, How to Write Good and Creativity Rules!
This may be the best post I’ve read in eons. Lessons learned, tips to hide away for later. Research? Yuck! A necessary evil.
John,
Be careful, you may fall into the either/or trap. A criticism of my novel is that some people want more description, more setting, more detail. But, I love dialogue. So…I gave my detractors a frayed cuff on my detective’s sport coat and a ketchup spot on his tie. Turns out that’s all they wanted. I can do that. You can do a little research; you don’t have to live at the library. Maybe a little google will do.
Love your name…what an author’s name!
Your comments were helpful, inciteful and spot on in my book (pun not intended). Thanks for your comments to Mr. Vorhaus. If you wish to respond, give your website.
I always love your insights. Here, I’m especially grateful for the distinction between process and ego in filtering criticism. I’ve been doing that, but didn’t have a name for it — and I like a good name for things!
I also appreciate what you’ve written about breaking new ground. I think I do that as well but, like you, I have the shores I steer away from. I love research (and can get caught up in it and swept away), but I’m weak in pacing. Want to swap? (kidding) When I have something like that, something I resist in my writing, I use my innate stubbornness to work for me — I can’t resist a challenge, a mountain to climb.
Thanks for the wisdom. I think I’ll work on pacing today — after I look up a few research facts . . .
I suspect the feedback from the reader/listener resonated because you already knew you are a little weak on detail. Your mind was already full of ideas for dealing with enriching and layering your writing – so the comment fell on fertile ground. The solution may be to aim for a little more detail – and see if you can do it without derailing your other goal – a fast read.
While it is true that for some of us, hours of research distill into a couple of perfect details, it is because we love the research that we do it. If you don’t, your details might only be 80% as good as one of ours – but take you a LOT less time to produce, and be a relatively huge improvement for you.
And maybe the details can come from you closing your eyes, taking a few minutes in a scene, and SEEING the detail that is already there in your mind’s eye – but you hadn’t thought to put down – requiring no actual research at all.
There are no laws requiring all ‘good’ writers to eventually end up at some mystical process that is the same for all of them. There is no actual goal of the right way. It should be fun for both writer and readers.
Wonderful article John Vorhaus. It was specific and gave wonderful insight into the writing process and helping your own self to grow as you work. I have shared it with my writing club and will be looking for more articles and writings/books from you.
Thank you for sharing. In my opinion, writing is an art you just have to taste; but, perspectives are part of the medium dressing. Rkb
Excellent point about process versus ego as a critique filter, a good way to remind the brain what it ought to be doing…
On the subject of research, I try to do it by reading novels written in or around the time I’m interested in – this of course works best if the research is of a historical nature. That way I have a perfect excuse for reading tons of novels, and can pass it off as work!
One way research could have helped you: Lucy shouldn’t be wearing designer sunglasses on the cover–hippies wore wire-rimmed glasses. Sorry, I can’t help being the art director that I am.
Thanks to everyone, as always, for taking my points and amplifying them in ways I find helpful (do research with my eyes closed) and humbling (yes, I know they’re designer glasses on the cover of LUCY but I loved the shot and couldn’t let it go).
Years ago, in college, I was allergic to the entire city of Pittsburgh (back in its dirty days) and went in for a weekly shot that relieved my symptoms forthwith. I looked forward to that shot, and jonesed until I got it. I’m the same way now with WU. I so look forward to my monthly post going up because I know that “post day” will be one of lively give and take among writers, and I’ll come out of the experience both helped and humbled. Thank you for your thoughts. -jv
I like what you said about honouring your feelings, not detaching from them. Feelings are good indicators of what we ought to be focusing on, even when they aren’t altogether positive. Thanks for an entertaining and informative post.
I’m sticking with the idea that people like a good story that grabs on and doesn’t let them go. I read somewhere that if people want to know about places and things, they don’t pick up a novel, and I tend to agree with that. As far as ‘short listen’ goes, I believe the trend is toward short, so perhaps more market research would reveal the length was perfect. You can’t please everyone.
[…] last one is from John Vorhaus (@TrueFactBarFact; love that Twitter handle!) on Writer Unboxed. A Tale of Two Readers describes what he learned from his encounter with two readers and what they told him about one of […]
Detaching yourself from your feelings when you receive either criticism or praise is essential to growing as a writer.
Well, OK, it’s fine to celebrate for a moment if someone compliments your work, but better still is to process what you are doing well and keep trying to build on that.
And of course it’s equally important to listen to your critics and determine what you can be doing better, especially if their criticism resonates because it’s something you’ve been suspecting yourself.
Your conflict seems to be sacrificing pace for detail. Is there a way you can preserve both? Even just little snippets of detail can be added to sentences here or there, possibly substituting for any filler you do have. You don’t have to do huge infodumps, but try to visualize the scene and pick out a few key details that could add a lot of atmosphere,
I suspect my writing style may be the opposite of yours, though: very wordy and research-heavy, and even then it can still be hard to incorporate detail in a way that doesn’t bog down the story. I notice in my first drafts, though, I waste a lot of words describing where characters are looking (usually at each other). In revisions, I can strike out those words and replace them with more dynamic actions that give a deeper sense of character, or with things about the world that are more interesting to notice than each other’s eyes or faces. If your writing is pretty tight already, it might be difficult to find places like this to cull and substitute research in, but it might be worth a shot.
“When I get usefully critical notes like this, I try to focus not on how the information makes me feel but on how I can use it to improve what I do. That’s called filtering information through process, instead of through ego, and it really works. It’s not that you don’t have an emotional response to criticism, it’s just that you don’t let it drive the discussion, and you don’t let it get in the way of what’s useful.”
Well said (and practiced). I am going to remember this.
Yes! Trying new things and working toward improvement is what keeps the writing interesting. That’s the only excuse I have for switching to writing for adults after publishing a dozen books for children. I figured if I was getting bored, readers would too. Time to try something new.
It’s all about perspective–great discussion of the viewpoints, here.