The Writing Principle That Landed Me A Book Deal In My 20s

I’ve got some great news.

As I’m writing this letter, I’ve just received the copyedited manuscript of my forthcoming book with Bloomsbury Academic. This means that the end is near, and I cannot wait to tell you guys more about this book that’s been in the works for 2 years.

Like many projects I’ve finished in the past, I like to do a post-mortem of what has worked and what hasn’t, and when I was journaling about the last 2 years of writing this book, I saw that there was one thing that has consistently contributed to my writing success.

It’s so ingrained that at this point it’s a principle that I follow whenever I sit down to write, and this book deal wouldn’t be possible without it.

So today, I’d love to share this general writing principle that has been at the foundation of everything I write.

The Principle: Write For Your Readers

There’s a fatal trap most novice writers fall into. They think of writing as pure self-expression and then complain about how no one understands their writing.

I was also in that camp when I was an 18-year-old wannabe writer. I wrote plays no theatre wanted to stage, short stories that put my friends to sleep, poetry that made a giant deal out of slight inconveniences and disastrous novels that were rejected by every publisher in my city.

The problem here is that though pure self-expression might sound appealing, it usually leads to worse outcomes. The Star Wars prequels are good examples. George Lucas had total control over the movies, only to end up with Jar Jar Binks and was forced into semi-retirement.

Whereas creativity under healthy constraints is usually how we end up with something worth reading. I will never forget the story I read about the fact-checking department at The New Yorker, where they forced the famous essayist David Sedaris to change ‘a gross of condoms’ to ‘a mess of condoms’ because Costco didn’t sell condoms in gross (which is 144 condoms).  And when Sedaris complained:

‘Checking is like being fucked in the ass by a hot thermos.’

Another fact checker replied: ‘If a thermos works, the outside wouldn’t be hot.’ But it is precisely this level of pedantry that made The New Yorker such a legendary magazine.

So, the best thing we can do as writers is to seek constraints. An author I met in London when I was negotiating my book deal told me:

'Writing for publication is how you get better. Until then, you’ve no frame of reference.’

You’ve no frame of reference.

This has stuck with me, and it’s true. Before I signed my first book deal, I had no idea how much work both the publisher and the writer have to put in to bring a book out.

For context, it took me and my publisher 6 months just to come up with a marketable pitch to Bloomsbury’s board, and the editing process took well over a year to make sure that the book is appealing to our target readers.

And there it is: target readers. They are the ones who will determine what you’ll write, how you’ll go about it and how successful you’ll be as a writer. So, as much as writers want to ignore the market and its readers while writing from their hearts, it’s a fantasy that’s only fit for a biopic.  

Here’s the bottom line: writing without an audience is only as good as rambles in your journal. And to get an audience, you have to answer these 2 questions:

• 1: What value can I provide my readers?
• 2: How do I find the best words to do just that?

This is the essence of writing: to communicate great ideas to readers who need them. And until you can answer these questions, you’ll continue to feel misunderstood by the world with your writing.

So, here’s a step-by-step playbook to help you sort out these 2 crucial questions in your writing career.

1: You Don’t Get To Decide What You’ll Write About