I am currently documenting the process of writing my next book. It's a behind-the-scenes look at the beautiful, messy adventure of transforming my short-form writing (emails, social media posts, random notes) into a cohesive, compelling manuscript. If you've ever wondered if you could turn your own short pieces into a full-length book, join my newsletter and learn how.
Who are you writing to?
|
Reader, "Who is your reader?" This is arguably the most challenging question I pose to clients and students. It's scary to describe our reader with any level of specificity. What if we alienate someone that might actually read and like our books? What if we define our reader only to discover that no such person exists? To ward off the insidious fear that we're writing for an audience of none, we cheat with faux particulars: "My book is for anyone who wants to change the course of their lives." Brutal opinion #1: 99.99% of answers that begin with "anyone who" are unhelpful and wrong. Brutal opinion #2: if your description of what your reader wants cannot be imagined as a photograph, you don't really know your reader and will not be able to deliver what they want. Last week I encouraged you to consider what book you actually want to write. Once you're clear on that, it's time to consider who you're writing to. If you want to share your writing with others, you have to consider the people who will be receiving and reading your words. In my opinion, individuals make the best answer to this question. Consider this example from writer Jonathan Rogers, who talks about how he was able to finish his biography of Flannery O'Connor by asking himself, "What would my friend Andy need to know about her?" Sometimes the person we're writing to is a younger version of ourselves. Other times, it's a client that we guided through some gnarly times. The who doesn't really matter: what does matter is that we know what they want from our book. Andy's gift to Jonathan wasn't just a face to visualize. Rather, he represented the "want" that Jonathan knew he could provide. Therein lies the effectiveness of identifying who, exactly, you're writing to. So: who am I writing to?As I said last week, this book I'm writing is not going to be a "how to" or some other form of prescriptive nonfiction. My intended readership has a lot to do with this decision. While I'm partly writing this book for the sheer fun of it, I'm also hoping it will give prospective clients a chance to see what I'm all about. And I'd like to attract clients who understand that writing a book is an adventure, not just a process. My current client David is a fine example of this. Reflecting on his writing journey, he recently said this: What has surprised me most this week is realizing that writing this book hasn't simply been about telling my story. It's been another layer of healing for me. Writing is not a data download. (Nor is reading, for that matter.) It's chasing an idea, figuring out what you think, and playing with words until they capture some semblance of the way you see the world. At least, that's what it ought to be. My book is for people who want to believe that writing can be fun. People who want to remember and rediscover the childlike delight of writing. People who think words are a lark and who would jump at a chance to take a class like "The Art of a Good Sentence." I'm admittedly straying from the best practice I described above, but here's why: my book is a collection of short essays and reflections. Each one of them is written with a single person in mind, often a person who's on this mailing list. These writings were sparked by the times you raised questions, offered encouragements, and shared anecdotes. And truly, I think you would all vigorously agree with my statement above: writing can be fun. Ought to be fun, even. Why does the world need another book about writing? (A question I'm self-consciously asking and self-deprecatingly mocking when I tell people about this project.) Well, as I'm starting to see as I write, it's hard to preserve that belief. The world is full of writers who aren't writing because they've lost the joy, because they think they need to take it more seriously, because they're not sure how to have fun with words anymore. I want to give them a book that helps them pause and gives them hope that it doesn't have to be that way. Current progressMy outline is starting to take shape. I've identified several new "chapters" to the list. More on that ... Next week we'll look at ...The initial version of my outline. While I want to reflect on some other big picture questions, I think it's time for a practical email. Not only will this give you a more concrete look behind the scenes, but it'll drive some much-needed progress. I'm excited to share this with you! Keep your stick on the ice. Frank Ewert |
The Thrill of Writing
I am currently documenting the process of writing my next book. It's a behind-the-scenes look at the beautiful, messy adventure of transforming my short-form writing (emails, social media posts, random notes) into a cohesive, compelling manuscript. If you've ever wondered if you could turn your own short pieces into a full-length book, join my newsletter and learn how.
Reader, If you want to write a book, you have to get comfortable with two uncomfortable things: uncertainty and the unknown. Everything about writing is uncertain. Will the right words flow from your fingertips when you crack open your laptop? Will anyone care enough to open the email? Will they make it to the second stanza of your poem? If they dislike what you say, will they leave a scathing remark about your weight? If they like it, will they bother to tell you or will they, like everyone...
Reader, Over the past week, I combed through nearly four years' worth of my email newsletters. I cringed in anticipation as I made my way back to the very first emails that I sent. But you know what? As I read them, I thought they were actually pretty good. A lot of those early newsletters didn't make the cut for my first book draft, but that was because they aren't related to The Thrill of Writing. What WAS embarrassing was my discovery that, just over two years ago, I made this...
Reader, "What do you want?" In The Coaching Habit, Michael Bungay Stanier (aka MBS) suggests this simple question "lies at the very heart of adult-to-adult relationships." Yet it's one we rarely ask or answer truthfully: Even if you do know what you want, what you really really want, it's often hard to ask for it. We make up reasons about why it's not appropriate just now to make the request; it's because the timing's not right, or the person's only going to say No, or Who are you anyway to...