I have never written for fun. That doesn’t mean to say I don’t derive pleasure from my work. I simply don’t write for pure enjoyment, to practice my sentence structure or to fill an empty half-an-hour. I write because I want to get published. I write with that as the sole goal. Always have done. Always will.
Yet in some literary quarters, ‘The Market’ and ‘Target Reader’ are dirty words. They are considered somehow less noble than ‘writing for me’ or ‘following my heart’. As Moliere once said:
“Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.”
Goodness me – financial reward has always been my goal! But why, I hear you cry? Because I seek fame and fortune? A big house? A celebrity lifestyle? No. Because, quite simply, I need - I crave - an audience. The story is in my mind, so I don’t need to reproduce it on paper for myself. For me, things are better if shared. When my husband is out I find I cannot watch a film. I cannot cook a meal. It’s channel-surfing and snacks on the sofa – alone. And that’s how satisfying I would find it to write a story and never show it to the world.
Initially, I started my latest novel, Lunch Date with a Tomb Robber, with no reader but myself in mind. I indulged my every fantasy. I ignored the current chick lit trends. But only a few chapters in I was considering market niches and looking up agents who like quirky literature. I’m not wired to create stories that no one else will read. And yet I’m aware that I might be a better writer if I was. I truly admire those who craft short stories and poems without the end goal of a competition or publishing deal. I truly admire those who don’t seek validation or approval.
But don’t suggest I write Flash or a Haiku just for fun. Don’t turn up your nose at authors who, some might say, only ‘write by numbers’ to get their work sold. If you write as a hobby, because it’s therapeutic or simply to please yourself, I’m in awe. But I need any talent I may have confirmed by a publishing deal. I need to hear the clink of sales. My apprenticeship is in the business of writing commercially viable novels and that’s all I intend to do. And if the day comes when I admit defeat and jack it all in, you won’t find me in my rocking chair, writing wee tales for me and my dog. I’ll find another obsession – like re-learning how to do housework or getting through the day without a blog search.
Yet in some literary quarters, ‘The Market’ and ‘Target Reader’ are dirty words. They are considered somehow less noble than ‘writing for me’ or ‘following my heart’. As Moliere once said:
“Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.”
Goodness me – financial reward has always been my goal! But why, I hear you cry? Because I seek fame and fortune? A big house? A celebrity lifestyle? No. Because, quite simply, I need - I crave - an audience. The story is in my mind, so I don’t need to reproduce it on paper for myself. For me, things are better if shared. When my husband is out I find I cannot watch a film. I cannot cook a meal. It’s channel-surfing and snacks on the sofa – alone. And that’s how satisfying I would find it to write a story and never show it to the world.
Initially, I started my latest novel, Lunch Date with a Tomb Robber, with no reader but myself in mind. I indulged my every fantasy. I ignored the current chick lit trends. But only a few chapters in I was considering market niches and looking up agents who like quirky literature. I’m not wired to create stories that no one else will read. And yet I’m aware that I might be a better writer if I was. I truly admire those who craft short stories and poems without the end goal of a competition or publishing deal. I truly admire those who don’t seek validation or approval.
But don’t suggest I write Flash or a Haiku just for fun. Don’t turn up your nose at authors who, some might say, only ‘write by numbers’ to get their work sold. If you write as a hobby, because it’s therapeutic or simply to please yourself, I’m in awe. But I need any talent I may have confirmed by a publishing deal. I need to hear the clink of sales. My apprenticeship is in the business of writing commercially viable novels and that’s all I intend to do. And if the day comes when I admit defeat and jack it all in, you won’t find me in my rocking chair, writing wee tales for me and my dog. I’ll find another obsession – like re-learning how to do housework or getting through the day without a blog search.
