As Dan Brown’s waaaaay overdue rip-snorter hits stores today, I thought it would be as good a time as any to talk about the different kind of readers there are in the world.
Obviously there are a lot of different kind of readers in the world, but for our purposes here let’s just separate them into two categories: writer-readers and reader-readers.
First let me tell you a story about a sixteen-year-old boy who had his very first short story accepted. As you can imagine, he was thrilled. Every time he went to the bookstore, he looked in the magazine section for the particular magazine that had accepted his story. When he visited family in New York, he checked out those bookstores too, looking for that particular magazine. He was so optimistic and naive to think that this magazine that had just accepted his story would be the kind of magazine that was available in just about every bookstore across the country.
Does this story have a happy ending?
Well, that depends on your point of view. What happened was the particular magazine eventually folded, as many particular magazines do. Later though this boy learned that wasn’t such a terrible thing, as the particular magazine in question was the kind put together on a desktop computer, printed out, folded, side-stapled, and then forced to be called a magazine with very little readership (like a dozen people).
Not that there’s necessarily anything wrong with that, of course. We all can’t have our first acceptances be to The New Yorker.
But was that boy upset? Yes and no. He understood how things went. But he also thought it was a shame. Because had that story been published, a lot of people were going see his story in print!
For those of you playing catch up, that young boy was me. Now here I am, almost 28, growing more and more cynical by the minute. I want to believe in a world where, if I publish a story, a lot of people will read it, and if they don’t, they will at least know of its existence.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
The majority of people that read my work are — surprise, surprise — other writers. Is there anything wrong with that? Of course not. But I think sometimes as writers, especially starting out, we fool ourselves into thinking that once we publish a story or poem or book, everyone is going to know about it and read it and love it.
Stop a random person on the street and ask them if they know who Dan Brown is. Most likely, they’re going to tell you yes. The same with Stephen King, James Patterson, Nora Roberts, etc.
Then ask if they know who T.C. Boyle is, or E.L. Doctorow, or Joyce Carol Oates, or Stewart O’Nan. Some might say, yeah, sure, sounds familiar, but they might be hard-pressed to give you specific titles.
These, ladies and gentlemen, are your reader-readers.
If it wasn’t for Revolutionary Road being made into a movie, hardly anybody would know the name Richard Yates anymore. But reader-readers are now familiar with the name, just as writer-readers have been familiar with the name for years.
What’s my point here? Well, I’m not really sure. But I think it’s important for writers to at least acknowledge there are different types of readers.
Right now I’m working on a new novel. It’s very commercial, a straight-up thriller, and there are times when I find myself agonizing over a certain scene or even sentence, wanting to get the writing just right. Then I remember that with a thriller, the writing isn’t so much important as is the pace and plot. Not that I shouldn’t make sure the writing is as best it can be, but go to any bookstore, page through a half dozen thrillers, what are you most likely going to see? The writing will no doubt be good if not at least decent, but I highly doubt it will be the quality of writing you’d get from reading, say, Middlesex.
Ultimately as writers we are writing for ourselves. We have stories inside that we want — need – to get out. But we’d be lying to ourselves if we said we didn’t care what other people thought. That’s why we submit our work, after all, because we want to be accepted, want to be read.
That’s why I think the short story is the purest form of storytelling. It has a specific purpose, which is simply to be told. Unlike writing a book, where you have to take into account your readership (again, the reader-reader aspect: who will this book appeal to?), where marketing and accounting departments have just as much at stake as the editor, a story is what it is. It doesn’t worry about its readership. It just worries about being told, and being told well. Don’t get me wrong, books can be beautiful things as well (I’ve read my fair share), but a story … it’s a different kind of animal.
Anyway, getting back to the whole writer-reader vs. reader-reader thing, writer-readers are the ones most apt to read short stories, both online and in print. Why? Because most often the people reading those online and print magazines are writers who want to place their work there. Not many reader-readers care about a little zine that’s printed on someone’s computer and only has 20 copies. That’s not to say that little zine doesn’t have value, of course (see how I’m trying to cover my ass here with every point?), but in terms of your average, every day reader who has already gotten themselves Dan Brown’s latest, that little zine doesn’t even come close to their radar (as neither does The Paris Review or Glimmer Train).
It’s kind of depressing, when you think about it. That all our hard work and energy gets put into these stories, and then we submit those stories, and then, luckily, those stories get accepted and then published … and only a handful of people actually read them.
It’s better to remain naive, I think, to believe that everyone is going to see our work than to accept the fact that, well, pretty much nobody will.
But that shouldn’t matter. Because we’re writers, and we write because we have no choice. It’s simply in our nature to write. The being accepted, seeing our work in print or online, that’s great. And if people (reader-readers) come across our work and actually read it? Well, that’s nice too.
P.S. As an aside, there is actually a third type of reader: the non-reader. Like this douche bag who is “a proud non-reader of books”:
Wow, I love you. You’re on fire today!
First this:
(see how I’m trying to cover my ass here with every point?)
and then the Jackass of the Day…
Too cool.
Agreed on most points, especially the frustration of trying to convince non-writer-readers (including reader-readers, yes; but here I’m referring more specifically to luddite non-readers) that your poem was the goose’s gravy, and you’re a fancy pants published poet now, but they can’t see it and you can’t prove it because the online zine it was in went defunct and is now a permanent ad for GoDaddy. (And no, of course, you didn’t get paid for it.)
There’s a curse to being a writer-reader that was unmentioned, too… though in all fairness, it probably deserves its own topic.
As a writer-turned-book-editor (hey, we all need paychecks!), I find it terribly hard to read ANYTHING without thorough dissection, especially fiction. I can barely enjoy any novel these days because A) I’m sick of staring by the time I can relax, B) I remain constantly distracted by my own book ideas niggling in my mind, and C) I fully realize, in every line and in each piece of dialogue, that the author could have gone a myriad of different directions–and DIDN’T.
Sometimes the missing myriad is a good thing, sometimes it’s not–I don’t mean to say that every book sucks. Of course it doesn’t. But every included line is optional, and it makes me insane.
If they chose well, I find myself struck by admiration, scribbling notes in the margin and highlighting the parts that I solemnly vow to remember for publishing eternity.
If they chose poorly, I cower and cry in the fetal position because they got an advance check for the crap I just read, and I don’t even have a book in the running yet.
Who was it that said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “If you write, you must read. Read good books. But remember, nothing–absolutely nothing–is as inspiring to a writer as reading a BAD book.”
As usual, great post; made me think.
Wow, Tracy, your comment is almost as long as my post!
You do bring up a good point, of course. I started writing that post and thought I could just keep going so I tried to wrap it up the best I could. I too find myself while reading a book rewriting certain parts in my head. Thinking, well if I moved this word here, or changed this sentence there … it does take away from the overall enjoyment of the book. But I’ve also found myself adjusting my reading habits to the type of book I read. The more compelling the story and the better writing, the more I don’t even consider doing the rewrite thing in my head; the more boring the book, the poorer the writing, you better believe I find myself thinking how it could be changed before usually stopping altogether.
And writer-readers are more apt to waste their time nitpicking certain books, like thrillers, which aren’t meant to be nitpicked at least in terms of the level of writing and whether or not the author used a certain allusion.
That’s the great joy of reader-readers: they just want to be entertained.
Like I said, I could go on and on about this topic, but I’ll stop now and try to get some sleep.
Good luck being a writer-turned-book-editor-reader. That would drive me nuts!
Ack… sorry for being a comment space hog!
(Is that bad form?)
I’m used to notebooks, and they’re cheap and refillable…
No, of course it’s okay! I like it when people leave in-depth comments. Creates a good dialogue. The longer the better.
I can understand where this post comes from. I have been sharing the frustrations, although I have added some additional to these in regards to being published. Being a writer involves a different kind of misery that should earn a new word to wholly encompass. Through writing we achieve a certain power that liberates us from the mundane. We create worlds, characters, stories and in that regard we are small gods and it’s a great rush to recreate life and fool readers with the illusion. To me this is what pulls us in. We write for ourselves and yet we write for the others, if that makes sense at all. We are fulfilled and purposeful, when we create and yet we can be shot down quite easily, when we are not read or the feedback and readers’ opinions are unfavorable. Fragile ego and all. In this case I think that we as a species have to retain this naive mindset that we will be read in order to enter this cycle of self doubt and frustrations.
I know, it’s off topic, but felt appropriate to mention and Tracy did mention most of what I wanted to mention. When it comes to reader-readers and writer-readers I have a special kind of fear that what I write alien in nature. As a non-English speaker, but writing in English I have developed a phobia that my prose will be unsellable. That adds a new element to the whole writing for one self, but also seeking a certain kind of validation from other people that what we do is good and relevant.
After the initial whammy of “what, no one reads the goat’s bell quarterly?”, I felt liberated. The first step involved getting anything published…and now, I’m free to write the best story I can.
I agree that the short form is the realm of the writer-readers. I’ve always enjoyed shorts…writers can afford more poetic turns of phrase, more experimentation (because face it, the audience isn’t going to be that big even if the story is amazing). The writer-readers like to be challenged, and that in itself is invigorating. If one person reads and feels challenged by something I’ve written, the story was successful.
Harry — as a non-English speaker, you certainly express yourself well in English, so I wouldn’t be too worried
Aaron — I’ve given up on the Goat Bell’s Quarterly. They never have anything positive to say in their rejections. Also, I think it’s important not to dismiss reader-readers completely as not wanting to be challenged. They just like to be challenged in different ways.
True (about readers-readers). Reading is reading, after all, and most high school graduates (close to 60% from the last numbers I saw) never pick up another book after school.
Don’t give up on Goat Bell. You’ll make it, some day.
Thanks. Other people tell me the same, but it’s part of the quest as far as the short story aspect of the post, which I didn’t address at all, I’d have to say that novels have stuck as main reading material for readers-readers, because who doesn’t like to hold a big book and get that brainy aura and because for some time it’s been a trend to read more.
People read novels, usually big names and titles, so that they can state they are in the loop, they are erudite and such. I am not sure where this comes from as an opinion, but my sixth sense is telling me that. Plus, reader-readers would think a short story to be short and unsubstantial compared to a novel. Like saying you read a fairy tale. I hope I am not doing over-generalizations, but the cynyc in me sees the consumer attitude towards novels rather than individuality.
Speaking of reader-readers, how are you liking Bel Canto? There are very few books where, when I get to the last page and have to put it down, I feel like somebody died. BC was one of them.
Loving it so far, Brian. I have about 80 pages left, and I find myself split between rushing straight through it to the end and taking my time so I can savor it as long as possible. I have to agree with the one blurb on the book: the book is its own universe.
I agree with literally everything you just said Robert.
I do think reader-readers are willing to be challenged so long as they know so going in and know that they’re not wasting their time (which usually means have the thumbs up from some respected third party). There’s so little free time in our culture and so many ways to spend it, people are hesitant to be too intrepid.