They Are Not My Readers

So it's almost ten o'clock at night, and I'm in the car, and I realize, I didn't write a blog post today.

This is not a joke. This is my life. And I can only apologize.

Right now I'm reading Those Who Trespass out-loud. It's not getting done very quickly, because if there's one thing I do not want, it is people {*cough*family*cough*} listening to me. It's one thing if they want to read my story {though that would be the emotional equivalent of sending your story-in-draft-form to a beta reader times a million}, but I do not want them hearing snippets.

It's funny. I love my family. They love me back. They are gung-ho about my passion for writing, they really are. But they are not my readers.

My mom read my very first novel (MG Contemporary Mystery) back when I was fifteen years old. She marked a few grammatical and spelling errors, and that was that.

While I was writing Stratagem, I inquired of my then-pre-teen brother what he thought of the opening paragraph. He said it was boring.

I changed it.

And that's the extent of my family's participation. They are supportive, they are awesome, and they believe in me - I am so blessed - but they are not very involved. Probably because my dad is a musician, my mom is a scientist at heart, and my brother is a jock. {Although it is worth mentioning that my brother reads voraciously, mostly YA. I am so proud.}

What about you? Is your family supportive? Do they know that you write? How involved are they?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

My family is supportive to a degree. That usually means a few still ask how my writing's going, others just ignore it all together. It's better than it used to be, but well, yeah, they aren't my readers either. At least, not yet. Maybe when they have a book to hold in their hands-- My daughter is really supportive at 14, she's honing her own writing skills, so that's been a blessing.