“No One’s Going to Want to Read Your Dark Story” and Other Unhelpful Feedback
A guide to navigating criticism, other people’s feelings, and your own self-doubt
A few weeks ago, a memoirist I’m working with closely (and whose story I feel personally invested in) shared with me an experience that had shaken her confidence. She’d hired someone to do an assessment of her manuscript, and they’d spent an hour on the phone together during which time this professional had essentially convinced her that her story was too dark, too much, probably too challenging for most readers.
This is hardly the first time a memoirist has shared with me their fears about their work being too much for others. In this case, infuriatingly, the criticism that opened the fear portal was coming from a paid professional who happens to be a novelist and who shouldn’t (IMHO) be hanging her shingle as a memoir reviewer if she doesn’t like challenging stories. This professional actually said the words, “People aren’t going to want to read this.” If I’d been on the call, I would have pushed her to consider whether the more apt feedback would have been: “I don’t want to read this.” This statement would have been more truthful, and it would have spared the writer some anguish.
You Are Not for Everyone
For years and years, I’ve been telling writers, Don’t try to be all things for all readers. You can’t do it. It’s not possible. Maggie Smith’s new and wonderful book, Dear Writer, has a chapter called “You Are Not for Everyone.” Same concept, and it should be a t-shirt. I love it.
When it comes to memoir, especially memoir that touches upon trauma, you will not be for everyone. But you will be for a lot of readers. Immersed in this genre as I am, I have read a lot of dark stories. I am also drawn to dark stories. Plenty of us seek out sad, terrible, tragic stories. It’s as much in the make-up of some people as seeking out fantastical escapist fiction is in the make-up of others. It’s true that difficult memoirs need to have threads of resilience and redemption, but the very fact of writing a story centered in trauma in and of itself is not a problem. And plenty of these kinds of books are well-loved bestsellers.
Find the Right Readers
At issue here is that the population known as “aspiring writers” is a vulnerable bunch. Really, all writers and authors are. Memoirists in particular not only put their writing out there for others to measure and judge and critique; they put the whole of their lived experience on the line.
There’s no easy way to forge ahead with soliciting feedback when you’re in this tender state. You have to do it, and it’s good to get tough feedback from editors and readers. And, it’s worth asking a few questions of your potential readers: Do you read in my genre? What’s the saddest or most tragic book you’ve read, and what moved you about it? Are you drawn to difficult stories? I could go on, but you get the drift. Interview your readers. Ask them about their experience. If you’re hiring a sci-fi writer to assess your survivor memoir, you might get frustrating results.
Resist Taking Care of Others
Other people’s reactions to your trauma or your traumatic past is not your problem. Countless authors I’ve published or worked with have shared stories of other people’s discomfort with certain stories they’ve told in their books, or stories they’ve published online. Sometimes your readers will feel compelled to apologize for what happened to you years and years ago. They’ll tell you they can’t imagine what that must have been like, that they’re amazed that you’re so strong and resilient, maybe they’re even amazed you’re alive! You cannot control other people’s reactions, and it’s good to have some phrases at the ready: “That was a long time ago and thank you but I’m okay.” OR, “I appreciate your concern, and I wrote my story to help other people.”
Most people are well-meaning, but when you open your life to the public, you’re gonna get all sorts. Those who feel sorry for you, honestly, are better than the ones who rail you—but no one wants to be pitied. So practice what you might say, and do your best not to take on the burden of other people’s feelings about your story.
Write for Yourself
It’s the Bay Area Book Festival this weekend, so last night I got to see the wonderful Viet Thanh Nguyen on a panel called “Writing as an Other.” (It was so good!) During the Q&A, in response to a young woman who posed her concern over the responsibility she felt to represent her culture in her writing, Viet said, “Write for yourself.” Beautifully simple, and not easy to do. The reason we seek professionals to support us in the writing journey is because we are writing for others. We’re writing for an audience. And yet, we have to constantly be discerning along the way because, again, we are not for everyone.
It's a delicate balance—how to stay true to yourself and your story, to take in legitimate feedback that will improve your story, deepen its message, and certainly get rid of the superfluous or overwrought, but also to stay grounded in the face of hard feedback and to know that you don’t have to take it all, or even to take it on.
In my work, I interact often with writers who’ve changed course with their work based on other people’s feedback only to circle back around to their original vision. I feel for these writers, but I’ve also witnessed how writers know in their hearts what the story is that they want to tell—and that the book, too, knows what it wants to be. Sometimes you’ll get shoved off your path by a less-than-supportive reader; by industry folks telling you no one wants to read X, Y, or Z; or by your own self-doubt. Which is why it’s so important to give yourself the space to come back to your *why*. What set you on the path to tell your story in the first place? Readers will have feelings, the industry is fickle, and you won’t ever escape the creep of self-doubt, but you can be prepared for criticism, hold other people’s feedback lightly, and publish the book you’re meant to write.
In the Bay Area? Come visit the She Writes Press booth #101 today (11am-5pm) in downtown Berkeley. There’s so much literary goodness happening!
Thank you, Brooke. I have recently completed a memoir with a “dark story.” The point isn’t the darkness, it’s what I learned that allowed me to crawl out of that place and reclaim my life.
Fellow memoirist here--and I too have heard some disconcerting sentiments, like an agent who said, "Great story, but no one wants to read memoir right now. I can't sell it." Hmm really? I like to read memoir, but who am I? I felt defeated . . . for a minute anyway. I moved on.
I like your practical examples of questions for interviewing your readers! Excellent advice.