It’s taken me a while to understand what people mean when they say things like, “Know your audience,” and “Don’t write for everyone,” and “Not every reader will love your book.”
Intellectually, I understand what these things mean. Of course, not everyone will love the books I write. People give 1-star reviews to the most amazing books ever written. But of course, those people wouldn’t say those books were the most amazing books ever written. Reading is subjective, and readers bring their own philosophies and desires and daydreams to the books they read.
Intellectually, I do not write for everyone.
And yet, there’s a part of me—the same part that hates to take up space and always got straight A’s in school and really tries to keep from upsetting people—there’s this part who still very much believes that the books I write will be and should be enjoyed by everyone.
But here are some reasons why this can never be true.
Someone once said to me, “I don’t normally read books with female protagonists, but I read yours and surprisingly I really liked it.”
Another person, after reading my supernatural mystery, said, “I don’t like fiction where there are supernatural elements. I really want the detective to figure out the case without help from ghosts.”
Another person said they will not be picking up any more detective novels because they don’t like the way cops are portrayed as heroes. This person knew I was writing detective fiction.
I’m not going to bother telling you about any of the very energetic reviews I’ve received on my novels from readers who are absolutely not fans of my writing.
I don’t respond to reviews. Or to emails from strangers who try to tell me how to write, or what I got wrong, or what they didn’t like. If I’m face to face with someone who says they’re going to read one of my books, I tell them to have fun, but please don’t tell me if you don’t like it. And they laugh. But I’m being serious. I don’t want to know if you didn’t like my books. Frankly, I don’t care. The book is done. I’m not going to rewrite it because you didn’t like how it ended.
Recently I was invited to participate in an author event with another woman who writes thrillers, and when we asked if the audience had any questions, a gentleman in the back row stood to his feet and asked if our books were being told from a feminist perspective, as some books are being told these days. He wanted to know if when we wrote women characters, we wrote them as having different experiences than men.
I’ll admit to being a little baffled by the question at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized what the man was really asking. He wanted to know if ours would be books he enjoyed. He wanted to know if he was our audience. The other author deflected beautifully and opened up her story to a wider audience, which I think is appropriate given what her book was about.
But me? I doubled-down. I looked that man in the eye and said, “Yes, for this book, I was absolutely writing from a feminist perspective.” I wrote a book about a female cop trying to find her footing in a very male-dominated police department. Yes, it’s feminist. And also, I’m a woman who puts a little piece of her heart in every book she writes and so yes, I’m writing about women’s experiences, which are inherently different from men’s.
I tried to be kind and respectful. But I also didn’t back down from the question. I didn’t try to make my book palatable for a man who isn’t interested in feminist perspectives and female characters being fully female.
I don’t think he bought my book that night.
But that’s okay. He wouldn’t have liked it anyway.
I used to think any sale was better than no sale, but the longer I do this writing and publishing thing, the more I lean into the idea that though there are many people in this world who will connect with my ideas and words, readers who will love what I’m doing and support me when they can, there are even more people who will never find me, or who will have no interest in the kinds of stories I’m telling.
This is normal. This is the business of writing. We are all humans with different histories and interests and experiences just trying to find our way in this world. And maybe one day our paths will cross and you’ll read something I wrote and you’ll see yourself in the words. I hope so, because I put them there for you. Not for everyone, but for someone.
My dear writer, do not write for everyone. You cannot, in fact, write for everyone. The harder you try to make everyone happy, the worse you’ll feel. Write whatever moves you, what stirs your own precious heart, and then bravely send that story into the world, and trust that one day—perhaps quickly, perhaps slowly—one day it will find its way into the life of whoever needs it most.