Yeah, yeah, I know: I promised to talk about what makes adolescent narratives tick, but something came up in the interim that I figured . . . sure, blog about it.
In a nutshell: so I’m doing this interview in the course of which I’m asked what I think and how I feel about the DNFs out there about WHITE SPACE. (Which the interviewer didn’t understand, btw, because she loved the book.)
First off, I didn’t have a clue what DNF meant (and for those of you who are also scratching your heads, it’s one of those acronym-thingies: Did Not Finish). Then, I was kind of . . . well, taken aback by the question; I mean, really, what can you reasonably say that doesn’t sound defensive? I think I stammered and ahemed through it . . . something along the lines of well, okay, so those people have missed out on a great book . . . or, okay, and . . .? What can you say to that kind of question? I figure you can either get really pissy–those people CLEARLY haven’t gotten it–or philosophical about the whole thing. Like: okay, and some people have really loved it. So those other guys don’t know what they’re missing. And?
But the reality is much simpler. Look, there are tons, TONS of books I begin and don’t finish. TONS. Really. I have this vast graveyard of unread books to which I’ve applied the Stephen King scratch and sniff test: if after about 15%, the book’s not giving back more than I’m putting in . . . I’m so outta there. (To be honest, though, I sometimes don’t even make it to that 15%. There are times when, after a couple pages, you just know: the book’s not your cuppa and won’t ever be, no matter what everyone else says.)
Now, some of the books I DNF–actually, many–are these mega-best sellers: books people are falling all over themselves about (some are made into movies, btw) but where I scratch your head and wonder what all the fuss is about. This is one of the reasons I stopped doing a monthly roundup of books I recommend because I understand that reading is a very personal thing. A book either grabs you, or it doesn’t. If a book that everyone loves doesn’t float your boat . . . that doesn’t say anything about you. It just means that the book didn’t speak to you, and there is nothing wrong with that either. It’s okay not to like a book everyone else just raves about. (Really, you’d be surprised what’s on my DNF list. It’s one of the reasons that I try, very hard, to sidestep questions about specific authors and books. Life is hard enough.)
Similarly, I get a lot of fan mail from people who love books like DROWNING INSTINCT or THE SIN-EATER’S CONFESSION, but just couldn’t get into the ASHES trilogy . . . and that’s just fine. I don’t think of readers as a homogeneous lot; I know you’re all different out there, and huzzah to that because I like to write a lot of different things. (I’d go nuts doing the same thing over and over again, only in different guises . . . and so would my readers. I know you would. How many times have you seen reviews where a reader’s pegged a writer’s formula?)
So, apropos the DNFs for WHITE SPACE (or any other book someone might come to after reading a book of mine that they loved) . . . could it be that some readers were expecting something like ASHES again? Or DI? Or DRAW? Who knows? And does it make any difference?
In the end . . . it doesn’t. Writers write what they care about. Well, at least, this writer does. Similarly, readers only read and finish stories they care (or are made to care) about. A book isn’t something you read because it’s good for you; a book isn’t a vitamin or medicine. A book is something you read because you find it entertaining. Ideally, you read a book for the joy and fun of it, not out of a misguided sense of obligation, something you slog through because you think you should. (Welll, unless it’s for class. Sorry, but I can’t help you there, guys. All of us have suffered through Moby Dick. Whale part was good. Now, you watch: a bunch of you loved that book–and that’s just fine. Really.)
I know that some writers talk about “books of the heart,” books they write understanding that the topic’s deeply personal and might not appeal to everyone but which they just have to write. Well, for me . . . every book is a book of the heart. I write what I write because I feel that I absolutely have to, and that’s all there is to it. I don’t write thinking about what people might think; I write the story that needs to come out.
A little sidebar: I think this is really on my mind right now because I’ve spent roughly the last month flailing about, working on an outline for a new book. I started off in one direction and then went off in a totally different one (with some woo-woo and a lot of miscellaneous stuff and busy-ness). Yet what’s happened is, after all this rigamarole . . . I’ve come back to my original and–what I believe–is a purer idea.
In the end . . . I will write the book I write: from the heart.
