On Readers, Writing and Macaroons

Every year at Christmas I make macaroons.  Old fashioned ones, not those fancy coloured French things piled like jewels in patisserie shops (and selling for practically the same price as jewels).  Mine are big, chewy things with a crisp exterior and a soft interior, with rice paper on the bottom.  They are damn fine macaroons, even though I say it myself.  

At Christmas the kitchen is scented with almonds and as I prepare yet another batch, occasionally I dream of a macaroon making empire where I will supply the world with my macaroons.  But the reality is that, while I enjoy my cooking stint, if I was preparing macaroons every day the charm would fade fast.  It would become just another job.  

I was thinking about this because someone wrote to me about the difference between writing for oneself alone, and writing for a reader.  To paraphrase, writing for oneself you could do what you liked, but once a reader was involved you had to be aware of them and pay attention to things such as pacing, structure, characterisation and so on - the stuff I teach.  

I agree, up to a point.  But then, what about my macaroons?  I have no intention of ever trying to build even the smallest of macaroon empires, but I strive to make them as good as possible - even if it's just me who is going to scoff the lot (it has been known...).  I think we can write just for ourselves, and yet also want our writing to be as good as it possibly can be, even if we're not intending to show it to anyone else.  

So, no macaroon empire for me, but I still enjoy the making and the baking and the satisfaction of doing a good job.  Even if we have no intention of ever showing our work to anyone I think we can try to learn to be the best writer we can be.  Apart from anything else, the journey is such fun.  

Feedback and the Florentine Bag

One Easter when I was a student I went to Florence. I saw the sights but most importantly I wanted to buy a bag, as I knew Florence was famous for its leather. Most of the bags were too expensive for my student budget but finally, down a back street, I found it. White leather, softly gleaming leather, stylish. My bag.

I loved that bag and wore it every day, everywhere. Back up at university I proudly showed it to my best friend. 'But it's plastic,' she said.

I looked. It was plastic.

I never wore that bag again, now I'd seen that the soft gleam was actually the harsh glint of plastic. Reality ruined it for me. Writing can be like that. You write something you think is beautiful and are then destroyed when feedback suggests otherwise. It's why feedback is so essential to writers if they want to be published. You must know how it's coming across to someone else.

But on the other hand, if you've no ambitions to be published and are truly writing for yourself, don't go looking for feedback. You may not be any happier for knowing it's plastic.