"I Love Your Story Anyway!" -- Tales From the Unintended Audience

"I know I may not be the intended audience... and I love your story anyway!"

This tweet from accomplished improv musician Stan Stewart (@muz4now), a faithful reader of "Dear Alderone," got me thinking. Since September, I've been serializing "Dear Alderone" online. It's a middle-grade novel, which means that its target audience is tweens. It features two 14-year old female protagonists bonded by blood, separated by several decades,  connected by crisis.

I wrote a story I wanted to tell: a story that I would have liked reading when I was 14. But you know what? I'm not picky at all about who reads or -- perhaps more importantly -- who likes it.

The wonderful thing about words on a page (or screen) is that they are equal-opportunity communicators, readily conveying their information to anyone willing to decipher them.

Skippyjon stays!

I know what it's like to devour a book, getting caught up in the story, all the while cognizant of the fact that the author did not have me in mind while writing. I like Eoin Colfer's Artemis Fowl series, though I have nothing in common with an uber-rich, genius boy intent on world domination. And I flat-out love Judy Schachner's Skippyjon Jones books -- so much so that I  was crushed when my cat-crazy 10 year old daughter announced that I could give them away because she was "too old" for them.

"Noooooo!" I wanted to yell as the books came off of my daughter's bookshelf--

...to be instantly rehomed in mine. Skippyjon stays.

Here's a little-known writer's secret:
Anyone who loves what I write is my intended audience.

Here's another one:
Nothing makes a writer's day like hearing from someone who appreciates a good story.

If you are a rabid reader of an author's work, it doesn't matter whether or not you are in the publisher's target market. Want to really make a writer's day? Some simple ways to spread the love:

*  Tweet 'em up. Whether or not the writer is on Twitter, compose a tweet personally recommending your favorite read to your followers. For the cherry on top, add the #amreading hashtag. 

*  Blog About It. If you have a blog, dedicate a post to a book, series, or writer you like. Google loves that kind of stuff almost as much as authors do.

*  Keep the Comments Coming. If the writer has a blog, drop a short comment stating how much you enjoyed a particular book / story / article. It's not that we're pathetic or emotionally needy. (Ok: Some of us are.) It's just that most writers get more than enough negative feedback. For some reason, the people who *don't* like what we do have no problem telling us. I mean: name one other business that names the vast majority of its missives "rejections." You have no idea what a supportive comment praising one's work can do to boost the creative muse.

*  Read. Review. Repeat. Reviews -- especially good reviews -- are like reserves of gold in a wildly fluctuating economy. If you really want to keep your favorite writers producing more stuff for you to read (instead of, say, trading in their mad typing skills for a hairnet and practicing their delivery of the catch phrase "would you like fries with that?") write a well-thought out, reasoned review and post it in appropriate online, visible places. Amazon is one such place, to be sure, but don't neglect other online booksellers who cater to people who might not want to enrich the all-powerful 'Zon.

*  Share and Enjoy. Like a book? Talk it up. Then lend it to a friend, so that person can help you spread the word. In fact, you could start a kickass trend by purchasing a physical copy of your favorite paperback, inscribing something like "I liked this book so much I wanted to share it with the world. Read it. Enjoy it. Then, when you're done, leave it in a public place for someone else to discover!" and leaving it behind in a coffeeshop, or a bus stop, or a train station, or a doctor's office, or... You get the picture. 

So here's to all the dedicated readers out there. It doesn't matter whether or not you are in the segment of the population to whom a book is marketed. It's not about the marketing; it's about the reading!  

The Great Escape: What "Twilight" Taught Me About Why I Write

Last Thursday I played hooky from my generally responsible life. For 12 straight hours, I didn't chauffeur anyone, cook for anyone, clean up after anyone, or make sure homework had been done. I even put my clients on hold for a day and didn't do a stitch of writing. Instead, I, my BFF, and about 300 of our closest friends attended the Twilight Marathon at the local theatre where we committed nutritional suicide over-indulging on popcorn, pretzels, and other empty carbs while watching all 5 films -- from Hardwicke to Condon -- back to back to back...

Frankly, I felt a bit self-conscious about the whole deal. I'm not a rabid Twihard. I can't actually make it all the way through even one of the books; the writing just puts me off. Swanning around the theatre wearing a big black lanyard emblazoned with the "Twilight Marathon" logo is not my idea of sporting the latest fashion accessory. 

Still, the event sounded like fun and, as my friend and I rationalized: When would we get the chance to see all of the films together in a theatre again?

Don't judge me.

Nah, go ahead. Judge me if you must. The experience not only gave me an unexpected infusion of motivation, but it was also a huge eye-opener into why I write. 

You see, I met Charlotte.*

Between screenings, I got talking with the woman sitting next to me. She, unlike me, IS a Twihard. Big time. Where my friend and I bought our tickets three days before the event ("If they're sold out, it's no big deal..."), Charlotte bought hers six weeks earlier, as soon as they went on sale.

Charlotte told me her husband has a t-shirt that states: Twilight Ruined My Wife. She is Team Edward all the way, baby, and sported a shirt to prove it. She was politely aghast when I admitted to not having read all 4 books. She's read them all -- several times. And she has attended every marathon before every new release.

Every one.

Now, you can judge me all you want, but don't you dare judge Charlotte.

Because Charlotte's husband has a job that takes him away from home for extended periods of time, she is, for all extents and purposes, a single mom. She has several children, the oldest of whom has several serious long-term medical issues that will never go away or be fully resolved. She had left her kids in her mother's care for the night, but confided that because of the eldest child's special needs, she could only get away for a night out once or twice a year.

Thursday was one of those nights.

For twelve glorious hours Charlotte put her life on hold and gave herself a break. So what if she chose to spend it watching sparkly vampires, impossibly ripped guys, CGI werewolves, and a morose teenage girl? Twilight gave her a Free Pass to another world... just for a little while.

Of course, afterward, she had to go back to her life. She had to once again shoulder the responsibility of doling out meds, keeping the peace, driving to doctors' appointments and school events, managing homework, and raising the next generation. She had to get back to paying the bills, buying groceries, maintaining a long distance relationship, and keeping her sanity. 

She wasn't shirking her responsibilities by taking a 12-hour Twilight break. She was recharging her batteries so she could charge back into the fray.

Go ahead: discount escapism. Say all you want about fans of such stuff looking for a way off the merry-go-round. But beware any feeling you may have of superiority. You never know when life will deal you a hand that has you looking for the escape hatch.

Here's the thing -- though it would be nice to write a bestseller, that's not the be-all and end-all, as far as I'm concerned. It's not all about numbers and sales. Instead, it's about connection.

For me, the Writer's Brass Ring would be to write something that allows people to escape whatever chains are binding their lives -- if only for a little while. That's why I write. And that's why I will never again judge a diehard Twihard. Or Gleek. Or Hunger Games aficionado. Or a fan of any other writer / singer / series / actor. Instead, I'll just do my darndest to create something that moves people half as much. 

* Not her real name.

5 Simple Ways To Lose Fans and Alienate People

A recent experience gave me new appreciation for the fans I may have and made me reconsider what we writers, artists, and other creatives owe our fans. I realize it is impossible to please all people at all times. One should not even try to. However, the person who blithely ignores his or her supporters is the person who soon won't have the bother of *having* any...

A fan's excitement knows no bounds.

Last week I attended a horse-training clinic given by a trainer who is well on his way to becoming an international sensation. I had great hopes of it being the high point of my summer.

My friend hosted the clinic after seeing the trainer at two different major equine venues. She talked him up big time. When I watched video footage of him and his horses doing tricks and liberty work, I was impressed with what he could do.  I was *so excited* to go to his clinic because I knew this guy could get his horses to do the one thing I'm stuck on with my horse's training, so I squeezed out money that had been earmarked for other things ("We're eating ramen for the next month, guys!") and signed up.

In order to attend, I rearranged my clients and called in favors from friends for everything from babysitting to horse hauling. Before I even signed up, I was very clear about what I wanted from the clinic. "If he's not going to cover that, or if he won't teach it, then I'll give my spot to someone else," were my exact words.

Weeks before the clinic, my friend assured me she had spoken with the trainer and he saw no problem with covering what I wanted to. Yay! On the first day, when the clinician asked what we expected from the experience, I specifically stated my goal. Not that it did any good.

Let's just say that I'd have gotten more bang for my buck by driving down the highway and flinging $20's out the window. Instead of getting the targeted training I had hoped for, what I got was a 2-day groundwork clinic that covered basic lungeing and handling: things my horse knew when he was two. Of the seven paying participants, three definitely needed what he taught. Their horses made real progress. I can't say the same for the rest of us.

My mother's mantra is "No education is ever wasted." My recent clinic experience put Mom's maxim to the test. Did I learn a few little things I can use to continue my horse's education? Yes and no. I learned different ways to do things, but nothing led me to believe the clinician's techniques were superior to the methods I follow. And at no time did he address my specific training questions or goals.

After the first day, it became clear that the clinic experience was not going to be what I had hoped for. Had I found someone who wanted my spot, I'd have gladly given it to them.

"You have foofed my tail! A fan's tail is never foofed!"
Photo by monosodium via MorgueFile.com

Before the clinic, I spent a day working outside in record-setting heat, helping the host get the facility ready. I also contacted local media, promoted the event online and in print, and participated in papering every horse-related business for 60 miles with flyers. I watched the trainer's videos and introduced them to horsey friends who had never heard of him. I was a fan.

In less than two short days, I went from fan to fed-up.

My clinic experience got me thinking about how easy it is to lose someone's goodwill. And goodwill, once lost, is a very difficult thing to regain. So, if at any time you feel you have too many followers, here are some suggestions (gleaned from the clinician's actions) for whittling that number down:

1.)  Remain Aloof. When teaching a class or a workshop, don't hang out during breaks and shoot the breeze with the people who have paid for the privilege of working with you and learning from you. If you must eat with participants in a common area, get through your meal as quickly as possible. Do not engage them in conversation. Show no interest in their puny and pathetic lives. Hang out only with those in your entourage.

2.) Butcher People's Names. If someone's name is unusual or difficult for you to pronounce, don't bother to get it right. Announce that the name is just too hard / odd / inconvenient for you to remember. Bonus points if you make up your own name for that person and just use that instead.

3.) Make Jokes At Your Fans' Expense. Ignore what we know about how the brain processes information. People who say sarcasm has no place in the classroom are wusses.  Whenever possible, especially if it's good for a cheap laugh from your non-paying customers, insult your students. Calling attention to their race, gender, or natural hair color are all excellent jumping off points.

4.) Show Off. Not only will it reinforce that your abilities are far beyond your fans', but it will have the added value of reminding them how little the stuff you are giving them has to do with the stuff you can do.

If this is how you make me feel, I won't be a fan for long.
Photo by runron via MorgueFile.com

5.) Take Their Money and Run. When your fans tell you what they expect from you, lead them on. Let them think you might deliver. If you're up front with them about what you will and will not do, they might ask for a refund.

I almost didn't post this entry because I realize how snarky it may sound. However, I want to record the experience and my disappointment if for no other reason than to remind myself (should I ever need it) that at no point is the fan someone to be dismissed, discounted, or trifled with.

I am not advocating pandering or selling one's soul for celebrity. I am also not suggesting that one should prostitute oneself to the whims of the masses. Far from it. But I do believe that when interacting with the public, the performer / teacher / artist / expert owes that public both courtesy and respect. I hope to remember this event for a long while and pray that I do not make the same mistakes when dealing with those who have paid me for my expertise.