By Nicholas Leamy
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March 16, 2020
There's something I recently realized about myself. It begins with an internal dialogue I had about dividing authors up into two types. The first type of author I thought about was the author, who is writing a story for you, the audience. It's going to be a story with certain expectations that make it a mystery, romance, or some other type of established genre. They know what you are looking for, and you are going to get it. I want to be clear; I am not bad-mouthing these stories. Many established writers can be unique and clever in their own right and still fit this idea, like James Patterson. The author can really put their own sense of self and cleverness into their story. Though, in time, this too can be expected by you, the reader, and becomes another binding. In the end, they are writing for you, and you are the final decider. Then, there are the types who are not writing for you. In fact, it has nothing to do with you. Yes, they hope you'll buy it. Yes, they hope you'll read it. Yes, they hope you'll love it. But in the end, none of that mattered in its creation, because it was never about you.