Who Are We Blogging For?

I just finished reading a fantastic post on how the Internet is affecting YA literature.  It was written by the wonderful Hannah Moskowitz over on her blog “Invincible Summer”—which I have only read about two posts on.  And that has clearly been my mistake.

The gist of the post is that we writers, or at least those of us with a significant investment in the authosphere, have moved away from writing for readers, and fallen into the trap of writing for writers.  As someone whose first significant strides in writing came from the poet’s perspective, I can tell you that one of the greatest criticisms I have ever heard about the poetry community is that poetry is no longer written for everyone, but only for other poets, who have the knowledge, background, and exposure to appreciate the currently popular poems.

We do not want this happening to fiction.  We do not want to become a community of people writing only for each other, having lost track of the true purpose of our craft.  It’s all good and well to learn and discuss trends, and clichés, and how “proper” books should  be written.   But we can’t lose site of who we’re writing these books for.

I’m going to ask you now to follow the above link, so that I don’t have to repeat everything Hannah has already so elegantly articulated…

Okay, here goes.  I completely agree with Hannah that the YA writing community has moved in the direction she describes.  It has not completely lost itself, but it hasn’t stayed completely true to its mission either.  And the horrible, terrible, throw up a little in your mouth truth is…  The entire authosphere, the entire online writing community, is falling into this trap.  I see signs of it everywhere.  Writers blog for other writers, sink their valuable writing time into maintaining their status among online peers.

Part of this can be laid at the feet of the aspiring writers who have infiltrated and conquered the author community.  Everywhere, we are encouraged to start blogging, to build platforms, to make connections on Facebook and Twitter, and other blogs.  But we haven’t published anything.  What can we say to readers, who haven’t read us because we’ve given them nothing to read?

And so we build a community amongst ourselves, aimed towards our goals.  We share info, support each other, and work to build up everyone’s careers.  And it’s wonderful!  But it doesn’t really have much to do with our initial reason for joining this community:  to create things for other to enjoy.  Others who do not write, do not know the difference between submitting to an agent or submitting to a publisher, may not be fast friends with every aspiring and published writer on the web.  They do not go to every writing con they can afford, or buy six copies of a book because they want to support their best friend who wrote it.  When we take advice, and suggestions, and encouragement from those just like us, we can easily forget who we’re trying to please. 

Readers matter.  Readers have a voice.  Readers may even use that voice.  In fact, there are innumerable readers taking part in the authosphere as a whole.  But many have neither access to nor interest in the authorial, writerly community with it’s focus on mechanics and mutual support.  They want to hear about new books, win ARCs, make recommendations, and read reviews.  To those of us who are unpublished, these are not relevant to our main goal.  And so we listen more to each other, and less to the readers.  And that’s a dangerous road to take.

 

First Fan Freakout

I’ve been following Ecstatic Days, Jeff VanderMeer’s blog for awhile, and a few days ago, I finally commented on this post. Jeff replied. Last night, I was lying in bed trying to get to sleep, and I suddenly thought “I just had a conversation with Jeff-fucking-Vandermeer. Oh my God, I love that guy.”

Now, you may be wondering why I’m making such a big deal of this fan squee moment. Well, for three reasons:

1. I’ve never understood the concept of a fangirl/fanboy moment. Authors are awesome people, sure, I thought, but they’re just people. I respect them for writing great books, but I’d be more nervous from having nothing interesting to say to them than from some speechlessness over their literary awesomeness.
2. I’ve commented and been responded to on several author blogs, none more or less awesome than Jeff VanderMeer.
3. Beyond the first chapters excerpt I read to respond to the post in question, I’ve never actually read one of Jeff’s books. Not even a short story. He’s on my TBR list, sure, because I hear so many great things about his books. (And, from the excerpt, these compliments appear to be totally deserved.) And yet I freaked out, days after the fact.

But hey, I’m nothing special. Fanboy moments are the bane of convention-goers—both author and reader alike. Nothing is more embarrassing than meeting your idol and completely freezing up the first word they say to you. I mean, they’re a literary God! And you’re just some reader/writer who nobody knows or cares much about. (And this applies to you whether you’re a multi-published author or a twelve-year-old at their first con—with your parents… ughhh.) How else should you react to meeting them?

Fan Freakout Syndrome(FFS) is practically its own pandemic in most fields of endeavour. Movie stars, sports stars, even someone’s favorite scientist. Anyone you admire can trigger a debilitating attack of Holy SHIT! By just saying “Hello”.   As much as an author might appreciate gushing praise on a now-and-then basis, constantly running into people who make total fools of themselves in your presence can get rather tiring.

And it’s even worse than that, because the fan usually realizes halfway through what they’re doing. This realization is followed by the dreaded “awkward silence”, where the fan experiences a second freakout:

“Oh my god! I’m such a tool. A fool, a clown, a total dumbass. I’ve totally ruined this. What a fuck-up, I bet they despise me! *weeps on the inside* They must see this all the time. Shit, shit, shit!”

If they’re lucky, they’ve not said this aloud. (But the writer, being such an astute judge of character, will see it all in the half-second it flashes across the humiliated fan’s visage.  Right?)

Now, since my freakout was not only private but internuts-mediated, I have retained some semblance of my dignity, even if I’ve plastered my semi-embarrassment all across the web–you know, because everybody reads this blog. Including Jeff, obviously.  (Right Jeff?  You read my blog, right?)

So, next time you embarrass yourself in front of your favorite author, remember, they now despise you. You make them cringe every time they see you. They would rather give their grandmother a foot massage than experience one more second in your presence. But don’t feel bad, you’re not alone.