I have bad news.
I’m not writing this book for you. I don’t know you. I have no idea what you’re looking for in your fiction. How could I ever predict it? How could I possibly reconcile your list of “musts” and “musnt’s” with those of every other potential reader?
It would destroy me, and everything I am trying to make.
So, here is the only guarantee I will ever give you: I will not publish a book I do not love. Because my only audience is myself. I am the only target I am trying to hit. It’s the only barometer I have. If you love it too, well…I sincerely hope you do. But I can’t guarantee that, and I will try my hardest not to be offended if the fruits of my labor just don’t do it for you.
It would be easy, I think, to fall victim to the disease of satisfying the many at the cost of one’s identity. I resolve to keep the pitfalls present in my mind. I resolve to choose plot points based on what I like, rather than what would sell. I resolve to listen to the music in my ears, not the doubts in my heart.
I will reach backwards, pulling forward the pillars that have made me what I am. I will reach forward to pillars not yet cemented, tethering them together with nouns, verbs, and adverbs (if too many of those) creating the best thing that I can at this moment.
That is all that I can promise you.
/cast iPod [Adele – Skyfall]
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