Writing For Yourself

To some extent, we writers do write for ourselves. In order to remain authentic, we can't chase the latest trend, but kudos, I suppose, to those authors who do. If I was smart, as opposed to stubborn, I could maybe write a book in a "hot" genre. But I wouldn't enjoy doing it.

All my stories, first and foremost, were written to entertain myself. I wrote things I would enjoy reading. As it turns out, I wouldn't enjoy reading all of my books, but sometimes you're inspired, other times not so much. There's really only one of my books that I struggled with, I think because I started with a great premise and then worked to fulfill it. Note to self: Never start writing with a plot device in mind. That particular book isn't good. (Not gonna name which one.)

As writers we're told to write what we're passionate about, and readers will therefore be passionate about it, too. As if readers can divine that we wrote a book "passionately". Frankly, there was no heavy breathing involved as I typed out my stories, unless I'd just climbed a flight of stairs before sitting down at my computer. And while I liked a lot of my turns of phrase, there definitely was no swooning.

I thought about the whole "write for yourself" concept as I've struggled to complete the memorygram book someone gifted me. I've grown to despise it. I'm sure the person thought it was the perfect gift for me, and I thought so, too--at first. But now I've said all there is to say and the remaining questions bore me to tears. Why not just stop and say it's finished? Well, I kind of want a book, not a pamphlet. I do intend to order a copy for myself, after all. Eventually. If I ever finish. Which I'm beginning to doubt I will.

It's now clear to me that I'm the only person who'll ever read it, so I need to write the truth, not what an uninterested family member will never read. Silly me; I assumed that the gift was given with an eye towards the recipient learning about my life, for posterity if nothing else. As a record of family history. Now, as so often happens in families, some trouble has bubbled up, so I can scratch that particular family member off the memoir-reading list.

That leads me back to writing for myself. That's still tricky. If I'm making a record of my life and my relationships, I waver between writing all positive memories and truthful ones. I'm not a grudge holder by nature, but my family life growing up wasn't ideal. My parents are both gone now, but does that fact negate all the bad? Maybe that's why I'm struggling to finish. I want to make clear in the book (again, which only I will read) that I love my parents, despite all their flaws. But to be truthful, I also need to lay bare the hurt they caused. No, I don't want a bitter reading experience, but I would know I was lying as I turned the pages. I don't like lying, especially to myself. 

There are other issues as well. I'm asked to describe my relationships with my siblings. That's great---four of the five are people I love talking about. Then there's that one. I can't just skip over him. The fact is, he doesn't like me and I don't like him.

How much easier this project would be without the tangles. Or if I was writing fiction.

Too, just as with my fiction works, I'm disappointed that no one is interested in reading my story. Granted, I haven't exactly lived a scintillating life, but one's own blood is supposed to care. If not for the fact that I refuse to be a quitter, I wouldn't even bother finishing it. Plus, I put a lot of effort into some of my answers. And a lot of the writing is good. I can always tell whether a question interests me by the quality of my response. I've tried to make even the blandest topic interesting, but there's only so much I could do.

Since I detest all the remaining questions, I've been frantically searching the web for some that would liven things up. The company allows the customer to write his/her own questions, or if you feed it a few facts, it'll come up with some new ones. But there's nothing more to tell about me. Am I supposed to write about my favorite foods? I understand its questions are all AI-driven, but stop asking me how my love of true crime books affected me growing up. What?? Yes, as a six-year-old, I really got into reading about serial killers. Everything I happen to like didn't play a role in my childhood development. I like coffee, too, but Mom never let me pour myself a cup. A few sites exist that list 50-100 questions, but would you believe most of the questions are repetitive? No one, least of all me, has any imagination.

So, now you know what my current writing life entails--complete frustration. It's almost enough to make me dig into that old novel I promised to revise. Almost.

Bottom line and in my own roundabout way, my professional advice is to always write for yourself. You may well be the only person who reads it.