Readers and Writers

At the end of last week, and over part of the weekend, I struggled to finish a romance novel from a writer I’ve enjoyed quite a bit in the past.  I’m not sure whose stubborn refusal disallowed my engagement with the book—my own willpower, or the book itself.  It felt clunky, it felt unfeeling.  It felt rote.  And I wondered if it was me, because I’ve read so much of this particular author (and, to be fair, this genre), or if it was the writer.

And then I wondered—is there any difference?  By and large, writers should be writing for their target audience, the people who already know and like that genre, and possibly, that author.  If the readers are avid readers, shouldn’t they be rewarded with new and fresh work instead of recycled storylines they could map out before even reading the book?  I am usually a joyful reader, forgiving of a lot of flaws.  But this time, I was cranky and belligerent almost from the word go, because the book held no intrigue or surprise for me—and I was disappointed to find that it offered up nothing to disprove those suspicions.

But part of this, too, is on me—though J & I haven’t written in a while, the characters for everything we’ve ever touched are still floating around up there with their own motivations and their own storylines and their own input on pretty much everything.  So am I spoiled?  Every character on the page is a step or two removed from the ones in my own head.  I’ve connected, and connected well with them.  Do they stand in the way of my enjoyment?

And after thought, I’m forced to say… no.  Because they make me further appreciate what the writer can have in his or her mind, the connection s/he can have with the characters even beyond what it seen in the final publication.  Evidence—that I read a recent book from this same author just a month or two ago and quite enjoyed it, though pretty passively—suggests it is this book that is lacking. 

So the question becomes, how do we as writers avoid that?  How do we steer clear of the formulaic within our own writing, how do we avoid our readers going “Yeah, I know how this ends, why should I finish?” 

I guess through listening to criticism or reading your own work with a semi-critical eye.  Not too critical—part of why J & I are so gridlocked at times is because self-criticism keeps us rooted in one moment or another, loath to move on until we think we have it right.  But it’s smart to be realistic about your work, I think.

Overall, when you go back and read it, is it something you enjoy like a new dress or a new pair of  shoes?  Or is it like slipping on the ugly house shoes that, while they are imminently comfortable, should never, ever be seen out in public?

Food for thought.