What Do Authors Owe Their Readers?
In a novel I read recently in one of my book clubs, the author described a scene in which young people were dressed in wool hats and down jackets. That particular clothing was key in developing the plot, but considering typical weather for that time and place, they would likely have been in shorts and t-shirts. The author’s failure to correctly convey these basic facts knocked me out of the story and made me wonder what else was wrong.
I mentioned my concern to another book club member, and she said, “Well, don’t authors get to write what they want?”
Yes! Of course. I definitely write what I want. I follow the idea that first piques my imagination along whatever path it takes. But because of the weather snafu mentioned above, I’ve also become more conscious—and conscientious—about what I owe the reader I’ve managed to entice. That person will likely spend around ten hours in the world my imagination created and it’s my job to make their commitment of time and money worthwhile.
It’s not easy to suspend disbelief for hundreds of pages, but that’s what great novels do. They take the reader into their world and make that world consistently believable. With the very first sentence they make a promise and continue to make promises as characters and plot points are introduced. In fact, before the reader even cracks the spine, the front cover and the title have made promises. If the reader turns the book over and reads the blurb on the back cover . . . another promise.
About three weeks ago I was more than ready to shift my latest novel, Elvis’s Beauty, Barber, Bait & Bakery, into the “finished” pile and celebrate. Having read it so many times, I didn’t think I could possibly force myself to look at it once more. But in light of promises made, I saw where I had fallen short—-where I had missed opportunities for improvement—-and returned to the manuscript with a fresh perspective.
Rewriting turned out to be more rewarding than I expected, and I also inadvertently resolved another issue that had been bothering me. “Elvis” is very different from Rayford’s Garden, and I had been concerned that my first published novel would create inappropriate expectations for the second. But now I'm confident that not only have I kept promises made, but by doing so I’ve created a new set of expectations enabling “Elvis” to stand on its own.