A Writer's Fantasy: Please Come True

Even though most writers would like their stories to be enjoyed by almost anyone who picks them up (that of course is a fantasy us writers like to conjure up), for the most part, we do have an imagined reader in mind. I've always been taught that a writer must always know their audience. And with that bit of knowledge, I hope that I produce books that my audiences will fall in love with.

When I write about boogers and boys having adventures at camp, I image my books being passed under the table in school, or a group of kids huddled in the corner of the library laughing their butts off at a particular line or passage that has totally cracked them up. The disapproving teacher Mr. Micheals or Librarian Robin (who both happen to be successful writers),walks up to them and tells them "shhh", because they are giggling loudly and uncontrollably, and are disturbing the class or the quiet atmosphere of the library. If they are in a classroom, the teacher Mr. Micheals may have to confiscate the book to regain order (He will only return it several days later, once he has read it, and has rushed out to the bookstore to purchase his own copy). If the naughty readers are in the library, after her third warning, Librarian Robin may ask them to leave. Of course they are welcome to check out the book, but please don't fight over it. The dispute is settled as all matters of importance are handled between the group of friends; a game of rock paper scissors.

The winner will turn the book in late because he couldn't quite part with it just yet (He will pay the fines of course). Librarian Robin looks at him disapproving, because the pages are crumpled since he slept with the book, and some of them are stuck together by a mysterious looking goo that happens to look a lot like boogers to her. He would smile sheepishly and ask her when does the newest book by Urania Smith come out. Librarian Robin informs him that she, Urania Smith, also writes fantasy for older people and has a new book out now, but her newest middle grade novel won't be out until next month. She also tells him that there is already a waiting list for that particular title. He is disappointed because he doesn't think he can wait that long, but agrees to sign his name to the waiting list anyway. While signing, he notices several familar names already on the list. The friends he beat to get the book he'd just returned! He wishes he could scratch their names off the list, but that nosy librarian is watching him like a hawk.

While leaving the library he sees two teenage girls laying down on the grass in front of the library reading. Their shoes are off their feet and they are totally engrossed in their books. He's curious about what has them so distracted and draws near enough to get a better look at the titles on the books. He freezes, shocked. He notices the name of his favorite author, Urania Smith, written in fancy letters below the titles. He moves along, but remains in awe at how she can write books for an ordinary kid like him and for silly teenage girls too. Then he remembers something the librarian had said when he'd checked out the book about a month ago: "Urania Smith is one of the most talented children's authors out there today."

He feels a tingle creep up his spine. Man, he can hardly wait to get his hands on her new book.

Imaginary Reader

Imaginary agents, never let you down, when all the others turn you away they’re around.

Imaginary readers never disagree, they always care, they’re always there when you need, satisfaction guaranteed.

Sorry, I was paraphrasing this really old song by Atlanta Rhythm Section that the phrase “imaginary reader” made me think of. The person for whom I imagine I am writing changes. If working on a picture book, I often imagine if my pre-school son would like it or if it is more problem-solution, I think of elementary students with whom I used to work, if it would be useful in some of their situations. If working on the YA (possibly adult) stuff, I have a vague imagining of an adolescent girl reading it, hoping that she would find the protagonist inspiring--to be independent and confident and not terrified of making a mistake, finding at least part of her identity before tying it to someone else. I purposely try not to imagine my adolescent self as the reader! Sometimes I do worry about friends or family reading it or parents of my son’s friends or former students because of language/violence/sexual content. Then I think how unrealistic that would be since I would never reach that broad an audience and I don’t ask friends or family to read anything I have written. whew.

It’s a big contrast from writing my grad school thesis, which I imagined just our professors and some classmates reading. When we next submitted for symposium I imagined the professors from other schools reading it. Then we won and were asked to submit for publication. I didn’t really imagine the journal editor reading it, just took her notes, and then did feel anxious about social workers, some of whom had participated in the study, across the state reading it. It was exciting that the participants would be able to see the results but a bit nerve-wracking opening ourselves up to questions regarding research methodology, statistical analysis, or the conclusions we drew.

If I write something I know I will bring to critique group, I only briefly consider my fellow writers reading it. That used to be scarier, but now I look forward to it because it’s so instructive and people want you to have good work. They bring different perspectives to the table--the funny part is when one person really likes how you did some specific part and another person wants you to change it completely. It’s really helpful when more than one person has the same reaction to a part of the story. Seminars and courses have taught me how to imagine editors and agents as the readers, and some editors and agents maintain blogs with great tips about what they look for. I think the writer takes that into account more when revising, not when writing the story originally, unless given a specific assignment from an editor.

More and more, I imagine myself as the reader. Sometimes my actual self just wants to throw it all out, but authors at workshops have suggested to never throw out anything you have written. Come back to it and maybe parts of it will work for you. So I try to imagine my future self reading something I wrote and deciding it wasn’t as awful as I initially thought, in fact, it might be something I could work with. Don’t censor yourself. I also ask myself if what I’m writing is something I would enjoy reading, if no one else ever saw it. Is it something I would go back to and read again or keep adding to? This question becomes important because I really don’t know if I do want to try to get my stuff published. (How Salinger of me, minus the previous literary credibility.) I do have that sense of once it’s out there, you can’t change it anymore. And then, of course, the imagined reader becomes real.

Of making many books there is no end.*

Each week stacks of shiny covers are unloaded and stand proudly on top of the shelves. Like a gourmet chef in a world of food, I am surrounded at the library everyday with the picture books that have made it past the slush pile, off the press and onto the shelf. I certainly view them with a writer eye as well as a purveyor-of-story-times view!

I consume critically, pictures first. Then I read the opening line. In the picture books world that one line is a substantial percentage of the story and has to be perfect. If it not good, the “reader” will not have the patience to go on.
Virtually all pictures books are the same number of pages so the amount of text, the interplay of text and pictures is key. Are the pictures an integral part or only decoration? More than two paragraphs on a page and it is suspect.
If it gets past those stages, I go to the ending. Only grandmas like “sweet” stories. Kids want to laugh and they want to be surprised. The bigger the twist, the better.

Most time the books get a “satisfactory.” As a tax based institution we buy only well reviewed books form the biggest publishers. Once in awhile I find one – usually on a particular niche theme like explaining mommy’s tattoo – that I cringe to share. How did this get published and my great story of a frog lies deep in slush!
And there is about one book a month over which I totally swoon – as a librarian, a writer, a nana, a human. At those moments I despair of getting Victor Javalina into print. Why, why, why didn’t I think of that storyline or play on words?

Well at least I know the competition is good and publishing, for all the bad economic news, is still turning out wonderful beautiful picture books.

* from Ecclesiastes 12:12