When a reader picks her next book, she unwittingly creates a bond with the author. And when a writer decides to create a book, he unwittingly forms a bond with the reader. This reader-writer bond is powerful–and meaningful to both parties.
The writer invests long hours pondering and then hunkering down in front of his computer. His mind and his heart are profoundly engaged in communicating his message or in telling a story. As he writes, he considers how he wants the reader to respond.
The reader also invests long hours pondering a book and hunkers down for hours as page after page engages her mind and heart. While the words captivate, she also is unconsciously aware of how the writer’s choices are affecting her.
When the reader-writer bond breaks
But the bond between the two parties isn’t cemented together. A number of elements can break it. The reader might find the book uninteresting or predictable. Bye-bye bond. Or the reader disagrees so wholeheartedly with the author’s premise that the reader finds herself not liking the writer.
The writer might make choices that are downright maddening to the reader. Ever throw a book across the room? Yup, bond broken right then and there.
For me, my first book-throw occurred when I read the ending of Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier. Having trudged through more than four hundred pages and having suffered the hardships and heartaches right along with the male protagonist, I was stunned to find that fate had a dreadful conclusion awaiting him. How dare the author do that to the guy– and to me!? I read that book in 2003. I still remember the exasperation I felt, and how poorly I viewed the author. Would never touch a Frazier novel again.
When the fan-author bond breaks
Even ardent fans can decide to break up with an author, if the reader feels betrayed by the writer. Should the writer decide he is bored with the hero of his long-running suspense series and kills him off, the bond is sundered. The reader had trusted the author to take good care of the hero even though the writer had dragged him through terrible perils.
I remember reading that Agatha Christie hated her investigator Hercule Poirot. She remarked that she would never have created such an odd duck, who was difficult to write about again and again with all of his quirks, if she had known how much readers would come to adore him. Readers wanted to spend time with him again and again. Ms. Christie loathed being with him. But she suffered through because she was aware of the readers’ fondness for him, not to mention her publisher pressuring her to continue to send Poirot off to solve another murder.
The disaffected reader
We don’t often consider the imperative of creating that bond with our readers
for long-term publishing success, but it’s elemental. Every author must listen to what readers enjoy about the work the writer creates. Lean into whatever that is–a beloved character, a winsome way of writing, a thought-provoking way of looking at a concept. Don’t betray the trust. You will lose the reader or even cause the reader to throw your book.
I found the trust I had bestowed on a writer betrayed a few years ago. The bruising of that experience remains with me. I didn’t realize until yesterday how un-recovered I am. That realization served as the inspiration for this blog post.
A tale of reader-writer bond-breaking
In 2011, I read Emma Donoghue’s Room. I found the writing breathtaking and the concept daring–to write a novel that takes place almost entirely in a small room with only a skylight. I became a fan.
Then, in 2014, I noted that Ms. Donoghue had written a novel entitled Frog Music. I not only rushed out to buy it, but I also convinced the book club I’m part of it to read it. Most of us had read Room; so I didn’t have to do much convincing.
I can barely recall what Frog Music is about because it didn’t captivate me like Room did. I have only blurred memories of the story taking place in San Francisco in the late 1800s. The protagonist lived in a shanty town just south of the city. The area was sort of a bog, so lots of frogs resided there. I have a sense of the tale being dark, with lots of lowlifes as the characters. Nope, didn’t like it. Never even thought about reading another book by Donoghue.
Then, yesterday I was reading a Publishers Weekly starred review for a new release by Donoghue. Starred reviews are hard to come by with Publishers Weekly. As I read about the plot for The Paris Express, I found myself intrigued. But it’s a story that would go sideways if the writer doesn’t handle it deftly.
That’s when I asked–aloud, mind you, “Emma, can I trust you?”
She didn’t answer. That’s so like her! See, not trustworthy.
Tell us about a time an author broke your trust. When you write, do you worry about how the reader will respond? Do you think a writer should worry?
Featured image by Moondance from Pixabay.
Image of boy reading by Sofía López Olalde from Pixabay
One of my fears is that in trying to reach the secular reader, I might alienate the Christian reader. My novels strike a delicate balance between two worlds and there is always the chance that they might be rejected by both. Thanks for the lovely article. This is definitely something every writer should think about and apply.
I trusted you to be my guide
through your enchanted stories,
walking, smiling, by my side
through the odd bright glories
that you had the wit to see
when sight had passed me by,
and you set to grow in me
a more observant eye.
But that was just a role you played,
and then you changed the game,
laughing when I felt betrayed,
joking at my shame
that I had gone so very long,
trust placed where it did not belong.
I’ve had the writer-reader bond broken often enough that I no longer trust any writers save for the authors of the Old and New Testaments.
My best friend and I exchange “mean books” for our birthdays which are a day apart. They aren’t actually supposed to be mean. The point is to choose a book that we love that is outside the other person’s genre. She sends me literary novels and I send her genre fiction. One year, she had me read The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. Now, my kids were young and being in full-time camping ministry we already faced so many hard stories from kids suffering difficult family situations and even abuse. I got to the murder. I stopped reading. I flipped forward . . . she was in Heaven but it was a Heaven without hope. Heaven depended upon it’s citizens being able to imagine it as lovely. What if we are too broken and hurt to imagine anything but brokeness? I stopped reading and asked for a new book. She sent me Where The Red Fern Grows, sigh. I managed though as it is a very lovely story . . . though sooooo sad! I think I sent her Atremis Fowl, which is hilarious and cunningly written. She of course hated it, ha! But both of us stretched our reading muscles for sure. Anyway, The Lovely Bones was so heartbreaking. I definitely felt betrayed by the author for not providing a solid hope that didn’t depend on the dead person’s own mental strength.