Your mother was right; there are just some people you can’t please...
We learn quickly about the awesome capacity of the sea and all the little fishies. Romantically we’re pretty sure one if not a few of them will be gaga for
us... eventually. But the same notion when applied to our writing can be a little trickier.
For one, most of us have our ego entangled with each of our precious words. By the time the poem, story or novel is completed, that’s a lot of words and a whole bunch of ego. Plus, somehow it’s harder to be objective when it comes to our writing. Easier to say, “I was just too much for him/her,” than it is to say, “My poem was just too much for them,” though I have said this in the past.
What many of us want is for our words to resonate with everyone, regardless of sex, race, religion, background, education, economic standing, etc. And as writers we should want this. I realize agents and editors love their categories—it’s how they sell our work, but as a writer I find it little fun writing to only one demographic. Yet, for various reasons, there will be people, plenty of people who won’t like what you’ve written. Jump back with me six years ago.
I’d just written a story about a girl who kills her mother after being sexually abused by her grandfather who turned out to be her father who turned out to be the leader of the satanic cult that was, needless to say, giving the kid nightmares. Now, I laugh as I write this—based on my description who the heck would want to read it? But on the other hand it was a slow buildup (thank god), interesting and sympathetic portrayal. I personally found it fascinating and thought (think?) it quite good and hurriedly brought it to the first person who expressed interest in reading it, though I admit my previous description was amended to, “This new story I wrote.” Later, when I asked her what she thought—always a bad sign when you need to ask, they should be bursting at the seams to tell, no? she very carefully said, “Well, I suppose there are people out there who will like that kind of thing.” Immediately I was crestfallen, understanding all too well that she was not one of them. Now fast-forward to 2012. Instead of dejection over the truth that there are most certainly people who will not like
what you or I write, I find solace in her words—after all, the ocean is wide. Look at King or Ketchum or
any of the other gazillion writers who write macabre things. Look at the writers who write the sweet syrupy stuff that I sometimes have a hard time swallowing—yes, most definitely there are people out there who will like it. The first one being yourself. Chin up writer! Don’t complain about it or worse yet
shed tears. Even better recycle those emotions by putting them right back into your work. It’s my experience that everything makes more sense when it’s on the written page. Plus, I hear there are some readers out there who really love a whole lotta angst.
us... eventually. But the same notion when applied to our writing can be a little trickier.
For one, most of us have our ego entangled with each of our precious words. By the time the poem, story or novel is completed, that’s a lot of words and a whole bunch of ego. Plus, somehow it’s harder to be objective when it comes to our writing. Easier to say, “I was just too much for him/her,” than it is to say, “My poem was just too much for them,” though I have said this in the past.
What many of us want is for our words to resonate with everyone, regardless of sex, race, religion, background, education, economic standing, etc. And as writers we should want this. I realize agents and editors love their categories—it’s how they sell our work, but as a writer I find it little fun writing to only one demographic. Yet, for various reasons, there will be people, plenty of people who won’t like what you’ve written. Jump back with me six years ago.
I’d just written a story about a girl who kills her mother after being sexually abused by her grandfather who turned out to be her father who turned out to be the leader of the satanic cult that was, needless to say, giving the kid nightmares. Now, I laugh as I write this—based on my description who the heck would want to read it? But on the other hand it was a slow buildup (thank god), interesting and sympathetic portrayal. I personally found it fascinating and thought (think?) it quite good and hurriedly brought it to the first person who expressed interest in reading it, though I admit my previous description was amended to, “This new story I wrote.” Later, when I asked her what she thought—always a bad sign when you need to ask, they should be bursting at the seams to tell, no? she very carefully said, “Well, I suppose there are people out there who will like that kind of thing.” Immediately I was crestfallen, understanding all too well that she was not one of them. Now fast-forward to 2012. Instead of dejection over the truth that there are most certainly people who will not like
what you or I write, I find solace in her words—after all, the ocean is wide. Look at King or Ketchum or
any of the other gazillion writers who write macabre things. Look at the writers who write the sweet syrupy stuff that I sometimes have a hard time swallowing—yes, most definitely there are people out there who will like it. The first one being yourself. Chin up writer! Don’t complain about it or worse yet
shed tears. Even better recycle those emotions by putting them right back into your work. It’s my experience that everything makes more sense when it’s on the written page. Plus, I hear there are some readers out there who really love a whole lotta angst.
