Yesterday evening, I phoned my mum.
‘Listen,’ she said. ‘And give me your honest opinion.’
I knew what was coming next.
In the past few years, plenty of people have thrust their stories at me because I’m a writer. They’ve rarely wanted an honest opinion - what they usually want is an audience for their work.
There’s nothing wrong with that - it’s why we write, whether we strive for publication, or hand our work out to our friends and family. It’s what writing’s all about. Without a reader, how can a piece of writing really exist?
But it’s only polite to give your reader a choice. I wait until people ask to see my work, and I never let anyone read unpublished work, unless they’re going to review it for me. I’m used to criticism, and I like to think that my critiques are honest and constructive, but I’ve found that when you’re press-ganged into being a reader, you’re supposed to like it. No other opinion is tolerated. But what do you do if you don’t like it?
When my Mum began reading to me, all my fears were swept aside. It was a children’s story she’d started after spending time with her 5 year old grandson. And as she read, I was transported back to that magical childhood age, when she used to read me stories before bed, and freed from the burden of having to struggle with the words on the page, I could let my imagination roam and really get inside the tale. Her story was brilliant - and I’m not just saying that because it’s my mum’s.
Her secret, she says, is that she has a clearly defined audience - she knows who she’s writing for and what his likes and dislikes are. She knows what stage he’s at in his development, and what lessons she wants him to learn.
That got me thinking, and today I read that John Steinbeck had an idealized reader that he wrote for. I know this advice about knowing who your reader is, but I’d never thought of giving them a name, age, hair colour or personality.
I’m going to work on that over the next few days - it’s going to be fun getting to know my reader at last.
