Who Are You Writing For?
By Julie Carrick Dalton | January 27, 2022 |
What do I, as an author, owe to myself? What do I owe to my publisher? To my readers?
I think about this often as I promote my debut novel, Waiting for the Night Song, while simultaneously revising my forthcoming novel, The Last Beekeeper, and drafting what will hopefully become my third novel.
To whom do I owe what?
I wrote Waiting for the Night Song with no expectations. I created a story I needed to tell, not knowing if I would ever sell it. I wrote the book for myself. After landing the elusive book contract, I incorporated changes based on suggestions from my editor. At this point, I was still writing for myself — sort of.
New expectations started lining up.
I wanted to please my editor and my agent, both of whom took a gamble when they signed me. I wanted to make them proud. I wanted my book to succeed commercially. But mostly, I need this book of my heart to be mine, to be the book I had envisioned for so many years.
It was still my book, right?
Ideas, many of them bad, started sneaking into my head. Should I add more surprise twists? Books with twisty plots were topping the charts, so I added a poorly-conceived plot contortion, for no reason other than I thought readers wanted it.
I quickly deleted the ridiculous subplot because it didn’t serve the theme of my book, and this book was, after all, for me.
To be clear, my editor and agent have never pressured me to change my writing in ways that didn’t feel right for my story. They make suggestions, not demands. But after years of writing just for myself, I now feel the burden of writing for other people, as well.
I started to wonder: Was Waiting for the Night Song still mine?
Every time I contemplated a change, I checked in with the little voice inside my head that shouted: Is this really what you want?
Waiting for the Night Song launched in January 2021. As soon I got the first copy in my hands, I took a long, hard look at my beautiful book, and I can honestly say, yes, it is the book I wanted to write.
But as soon as it hit the shelves, a new player came into the picture: readers. Early readers, reviewers, influencers, book clubs, and they all had opinions.
When I Zoomed in to virtual book clubs to chat about my book, I occasionally faced tough questions. Did that character really need to die? Are you pushing a political agenda?
At first, I assumed a defensive position when anyone challenged my authorial choices. Didn’t they understand I wrote this book for myself? Of course, my writing includes my worldview. But I soon realized that the day I released my book into the world, it no longer belonged to me, at least not completely.
My book did not belong to my agent or my publisher.
It belonged to my readers.
Every reader who invests time and money in reading my book owns a piece of the story. They read my words through the filter of their own lived experiences. I believe the scenes I wrote play out differently in the minds of each reader.
Some readers appreciate the choices I make for my characters. Other readers find plenty to question. I receive lovely notes thanking me for my inclusion of climate crisis in the story. Messages came in from readers who identified with my characters. And, of course, there was the note from a reader I offended because my characters slept together too soon.
It took a lot of emotional work for me to get comfortable with the fact that my story no longer belongs to me. But it’s also a bit of a relief, to be honest. Their praise, questions, and issues are valid from their perspectives. Every reader adds life to my story by imagining it through the lens of their own experiences.
Now when I Zoom in to book club meetings, I preface the conversation by saying, “I wrote this book for myself, but it belongs to you now, too. Whatever you read into the story is valid and I want to talk about it, even if your interpretation isn’t what I intended.” This approach has led to some amazing conversations. It frees readers to question my choices and for me to hear their questions without feeling defensive.
I cherish these interactions with my audience. Having launched my debut novel during a pandemic, I haven’t had the opportunity to meet many of my readers in person. I love participating in Zoom events, but it’s not quite the same.
As I write this post, I’m in Park City, Utah, during the week that should have seen the Sundance Film Festival take over this small mountain town. The empty streets are lined with colorful banners welcoming film aficionados to the festival. But no one is here, because, as Omicron numbers climbed, festival organizers made the brave decision to cancel all in-person events.
I’ve been attending the Sundance Film Festival for about ten years. Passion for storytelling infuses every conversation. My favorite part of each movie screening is the moment at the end when the writers, directors, producers, and actors come up on stage to answer questions directly from their audience.
That connection to the audience matters, because as soon as the opening credits roll, that movie belongs to the audience, just like my book belongs to my readers.
I’ve been watching the online film screenings at this year’s virtual film festival, but the interactions between filmmakers and audience aren’t quite the same. It’s a huge loss for the filmmakers, and for the audiences to whom they owe so much.
We, as artists, do owe something to our audiences. We owe them gratitude. Every time I meet or correspond with someone who read my book, I’m overwhelmed by the fact that someone would set aside eight hours of their life to read my words.
Now, as I’m preparing to launch my second book, The Last Beekeeper, into the world, I’m struggling again with that same question: To whom do I owe what?
The readers who enjoyed my first book probably have an expectation that my forthcoming book will satisfy them in a similar way. My publishers expect my book to appeal to a similar readership.
Do I owe it to my readers and to my publisher to deliver on those expectations? Or do I owe it to myself to write the book I feel moved to write? What if those goals diverge?
Luckily, I think (I hope?) The Last Beekeeper, will appeal to the same readers who liked Waiting for the Night Song, but I’m already bracing myself for pushback on some elements that stretch the boundaries of genre. Although the setting is very familiar, my new book takes place in the near future and relies on subtle dystopian elements.
Will my readers follow me? And what about this third book I’m working on that engages elements of magical realism? Will readers trust me and give up eight hours of their life to read these new books? Or should I have played it safe and written a second book more similar to the first?
I’m willing to take the risk and hope my readers follow me. I love The Last Beekeeper, and I’m quite smitten with the plot I’m devising for Book Three. Just thinking about these new books makes me giddy because they are, for the moment, still mine.
As an author, I owe something to many people, including myself. I know I won’t be able to please everyone, so I’m going back to the beginning. I’m writing for myself.
Until it hits the shelves next year, The Last Beekeeper belongs to me, and I owe it to myself to write the best version of this book I can, a version that gives me first-date butterflies when I think about my favorite scenes.
But I also look forward to the day my next book lands on bookstore shelves, the day it will belong to my readers and I get to view my story through their lenses, an enormous privilege I will never take for granted.
Who do you write for? As a reader, what expectations do you put on authors? As a writer, what expectations do feel burdened with?
Julie Carrick Dalton is the author of THE LAST BEEKEEPER, longlisted for the Massachusetts Book Award, and WAITING FOR THE NIGHT SONG, a Most Anticipated book by CNN, Newsweek, USA Today, Parade, and Buzzfeed, and an Amazon Editor’s Pick for Best Books of the Month. As a journalist, Julie has published more than a thousand articles in publications including The Boston Globe, BusinessWeek, The Hollywood Reporter, and the Chicago Review of Books. A Tin House and Bread Loaf alum, and graduate of GrubStreet’s Novel Incubator, Julie holds a Master’s in Creative Writing and is currently on the teaching faculty of Drexel University’s MFA program. She also teaches Climate Fiction to undergrads at Tufts University. Julie is a frequent speaker and workshop leader on the topic of Fiction in the Age of Climate Crisis at universities, libraries, museums, and conferences nationally and internationally. Mom to four kids and two dogs, Julie is an avid skier, kayaker, open-water swimmer, gardener, and wannabe herbalist. Her third novel, THE FOREST BECOMES HER, is forthcoming from St. Martin’s Press. You can connect with her on Instagram @juliecdalton, or at juliecarrickdalton.com.
This was great. I love how you now preface your book club meetings with the face that your book now belongs to them. Thanks for sharing this.
Hi Carol! I’ve learned things about my own book from chatting with book clubs. Everyone adds a new perspective. Thanks for reading!
Julie,
Your willingness to shift from “I wrote this book for myself” to “I wrote this book for myself, but it belongs to you now, too. Whatever you read into the story is valid and I want to talk about it, even if your interpretation isn’t what I intended” is growth that every writer should embrace, because it’s letting your “child” enter the world and become what it’s meant to be. I also see how it takes a lot of the burden off your shoulders. You’ve reached a place of acceptance, which is hard for many writers. You’ve attained “writer’s zen.” That’s exactly what I want when I put my work out there. As of now, I’m simply writing the story I need to tell. It’ll go through its own growing pains in the process, but hopefully, by the time it’s out there I can say, “I’ve raised you the best I can do, now you’re on your own, but like any parent, I’ll be there to help you through the hard times.” Thanks for sharing your experience.
Thank you, Mike! Yes, it’s so hard letting our babies grow up. I look forward to seeing your book book babies out in the world too! Cheers!
I believe it all hinges on the writer. Their age, their ambition, and what they hope to achieve. My hopes and dreams as writer in my twenties is certainly not what it is now, in my sixties. In the early years, as much as I thought I wrote for myself, I wore out two cars driving to every writing conference on the east coast, striving to make those coveted contacts with agents, editors and publishers. No regrets, however. Three traditionally published novels are the result. But now I have absolutely zero desire to put myself through the pain of traditional publishing. I write my heart, grateful for every reader. I don’t need to make a fortune, nor do I seek the fame of those “best selling” authors. I have become comfortable in my own writing skin. The peace that brings is priceless.
Pamela, consider yourself lucky, that you have “become comfortable” in your own writing skin. I’m about your age, a bit older, and I also have the perspective of writing for several decades. Not a day goes by when I don’t question why I’ve spent so much of my life writing when basically, it’s all come to naught. I try not to get an attitude when people say, oh, but the writing is for you! So what if almost no one reads it. Recently I decided I would self-publish more of my stuff, just so it’s out there. Just so “people” know it’s true that I’ve been writing and have several works to my credit. So when I exist no longer, at least my books will!
Pamela, I love your perspective! “I write my heart, grateful for every reader.” Exactly as it should be. Thanks for reading.
Julie, what a wonderful reflection on who we write for. I write for myself and my editorial team helps me to make it the best book possible but know that the published book belongs to the reader. I write all over the place and have never expected my readers to love it all and I enjoy the conversations and discussions that occur with my readers too. I hope your next launch with The Last Beekeeper will be in person. I just did my first in-person author event in two years yesterday. It was wonderful.
Hi Vijaya! I’m so happy you were able to do an in person event! I agree with you, I also really enjoy discussions with my readers, even if they ask tough questions. Thank you for reading. Cheers!
Oh, Julie! We should have this conversation on the phone. I have SO many thoughts about it, but I will try to keep them brief. XD
I write for me. Period. And in fact my fifth book, that will be out next year, tackles a lot of these questions of “audience expectations” but in the realm of music, and when I proposed it there was a little pushback from the editorial board because it is a “lighter” book in a lot of ways than some of my others and it is from a male POV, it’s set in 1990 so it isn’t exactly contemporary, nor is it exactly historical, etc.
But I had an interviewer ask me early on one of those “where do you see yourself/want to be in 20 years” questions and, without having to think about it at all, my answer was that I never want to write the same book twice. I want to write in several different genres about lots of topics. Because I am interested in so many different genres and so many different topics. Like you, I don’t want to just be all about building a brand and sticking to it and giving people more of the same. And the reason is because I write for me, and writing the book readers expect (more of the same) sounds SO BORING to do. I already wrote that book! Why would I write it again?
So part of the answer for the editorial board about “why this book next?” is “because you’re even asking me that question.” That question is about audience expectations, but I’m not writing for the audience. I’m writing for me. The process of deciding what to write next and actually writing the book is all for me. And then the audience SEES what’s coming next. They don’t DETERMINE what’s coming next.
Once the book is out there, I am more than happy to let it go and let readers make of it what they will. I love getting all sorts of interesting takes on my stories and characters when I talk to book clubs. It feeds the former English major in me. :)
But the writing part? That’s all mine. :) :) :)
Hi Erin! I’m with you. I never want to write the same book twice, either. I’m having waaaay too much fun drafting what I hope will become my third book. It’s the first time I’ve dabbled with magical realism and it’s all I can think about. I am 100% writing it for me – mostly because I want to read this book. I want to know how it ends, and the only way to find out, is to write it! (Also we are long overdue for a phone call!)
Wonderful insight and advice. I’m bookmarking this article so I’ll remember how you prefaced your book club Zoom sessions. I believe your words lay the groundwork for understanding and dialogue.
Thank you, Mona! I think it sets a nice tone and gives readers a level of comfort that they can ask anything or make any comment. Thank you for reading my post. Best of luck!
For myself. For the ages. And for any human who knows the ravages of being disabled or chronically ill and of not seeing yourself and what you live with depicted in fiction as well as you’d like. Plus any empathetic normals. Because we’ve all in this together, but they sometimes forget. And you can switch groups in an instant (usually in what people in general consider the wrong direction).
Thank you, Alicia. I love that you know who your audience and that you write with them in mind, but that you also want to share your experiences with all empathetic readers. You are right, we’re all in this together. Thank you for reading and best of luck with your own work. Cheers!
Love this wisdom: “I wrote this book for myself, but it belongs to you now, too. Whatever you read into the story is valid and I want to talk about it, even if your interpretation isn’t what I intended.” So centered. So gracious. Thank you.
First and foremost, I have to write for myself. I need to write a story that I would enjoy reading. You will not be able to please every reader, so you need to be pleased yourself.
If I was a chef, I would not put out a dish that I didn’t love.