My Big Hot Take: Stop Writing About Writing

I’ve been in this business for a good chunk of time. I’m no newbie. And if I’m being honest, there is nothing—nothing—worse than when people write about their own writing. Yeah, I don’t care about doing a whole intro on this one. I figured that, since I’ve been having trouble putting these out every week, I might as well mix it up with something that grinds my gears. Just for fun.

But do you know what’s not fun? Reading a book about some guy who’s philosophizing about the importance of his own manuscript. There is a certain group of fifty-year-old men who for some reason end up in my inbox, utterly convinced their manuscripts are going to change the world. I get sent draft after draft of self-insert fiction where people constantly comment on their own works with these long speeches about the “true meaning of what it means to write.” Uh-huh. Yup. I’m sure audiences will really respond to that.

But then, silly me, I forgot that “you aren’t writing for the audience, true writing is for the self!” That old line is just as misused as “the customer is always right.” When people talk about facing criticism and writing from your heart, they’re not literally telling you to forget that writing is a communicative art in the first place. If you’re communicating dumb ideas, you aren’t immune from criticism just because you were writing “for yourself.” Writing is about getting ideas across. And if you spend an entire chapter writing about how impressive it is that you’ve written a book, you’re communicating to your readers that you’re a complete and utter clown.

Now, I’d like to slow down for a moment. Take a deep breath. I’m putting out a lot of negative energy right now. Now, I’m not calling anybody specific out. I’m not naming names. I try to stick to a positive, healthy vision of authorship in this blog. One that treats writing as an art for its own sake. I dislike the idea that people would write solely to make money. I just don’t believe in that. So, when someone starts writing about the artistic merit of their own work, I get a little frustrated sometimes. Because they’re so close. They’re clearly writing for the right reasons, but they’re just off enough that they’re not trusting their work to speak for itself. This isn’t the same thing as someone whining about criticism. This is someone preemptively confronting critics, like a literary version of the Iraq War.

There’s no guarantee someone will like your book. But if you write in-universe about how important your book is, then you’re stomping your audience’s fledgling opinions into the ground and screaming, “No!” It’s just going to make your readers mad. Bloviating is always a cover for insecurity. And when I see this kind of writing, all I can think of is how terrified the author must really be.

Look, I get it. I’m an author myself. Releasing a book is terrifying, and sometimes, it’s hard not to directly state your intentions and philosophy in your own manuscript. The first draft of Little Comforts had a few places where I did that. But I grew, and it’s become something a little better than that. Anxiety can be tough. Just know that your worst fears often manifest as your worst impulses.

Be brave, okay? I believe in you.