The January Authorly Advice blog comes a couple days late due to the topic of the month: authors as people. When we’re young and discover reading for the first time, authors seem like otherworldly beings—more legend than person. As we grow, we learn what fandom means, and we idolize our favorite authors. We may not realize then the responsibility authors have.
Humanity in Fallibility
Authors are people. This in itself is not a revolutionary statement. However, people tend to put too much pressure on themselves to become infallible. Infallibility, while admirable, is unrealistic simply because of the nature of living a life. Sometimes we literally fall down, and whether that is the case or we “drop the ball” in forgetting an appointment or another fashion, we will fall—at least a little bit—no matter what we do.
Two weeks ago, I fell—literally. I slipped on ice and fell, and I hit the back of my head on a tree root. In an instant, everything I’d said and planned for the year was also on shaky footing. I went to the ER, I had tests, I went to the doctor, the chiropractor, physical therapy, and more, and I learned that this head injury was substantial enough to throw off all my plans for at least a full month—which would cause cascading changes throughout the year.
I can no longer spend hours in front of the computer working on a manuscript draft. I can no longer work on editorial tasks. As of today, I can hardly walk without support. This came mere days after cementing my month-long plan and sharing my plans for the year. Sometimes, plans have to change.
Meeting a deadline is possible in some cases but not all. We are not programmed to spit out a certain number of words per day to ensure we reach our goals. Maybe we won’t reach those goals. Maybe we need more time. Maybe we need to stop and think. Maybe there’s an illness or disaster outside our control. Maybe we have other commitments and have to make the difficult decision between them.
The important thing in these cases is to be honest. Being honest does not mean baring all, but it does mean that what is laid bare must be honest. Fallibility is part of being a living being, but honesty and genuineness are choices.
Humanity in Responsibility
Authors have a responsibility to honesty. Whether that was the plan or not, the moment someone puts themselves out there for the public—musicians, journalists, actors, field experts, and so on—they become a public figure. Someone, somewhere, looks up to them and admires what they do. People have to know that the person they look up to is trustworthy. Do I know what my favorite author had for lunch today? No. Does she have to tell me if I ask? No. However, if I ask and she chooses to tell me, what she shares must be honest. “I had something tasty,” if true, is certainly enough information for her to share as a public figure. She may choose to photograph her lunch and ping the restaurant, but that is a choice. She is not being dishonest in saying it was tasty. We are not owed any personal information, but if the choice is made to share, the choice must also be made to do so honestly.
Authors also have a responsibility to character—to their characters in their books, yes, but also to their own moral character. While authors may have pen names and may embody personas instead of sharing their true names, the person they present as this public figure must not directly contradict their own character. This does not mean that someone who dresses one way as the public figure must do so as themselves. It means that the moral beliefs they hold themselves to must be the same. When a reader grows to love the writing, they may also become fans of the writer. They expect that person to share the moral codes presented in the writing or presented by the writer as a public figure. To not match what beliefs are presented breaks the trust with the reader. This does not mean readers must know the author’s religion, political stance, or other beliefs, but if they matter, if those things directly contradict the stories, it breaks trust with the reader if those details come to light later on.
I had a favorite author, whose name I won’t mention, who stated once that writing fantasy was easy because fans of fantasy would love whatever garbage was given to them, so it was a good way to make a buck. That was the reason he wrote his fantasy books, and it was the honest answer. This caused a rift between those lovers of fantasy—of that series in particular—and the author who held such disdain for even his own readers, and it broke that trust.
Having a responsibility to your own character doesn’t mean having good character, though perhaps that should be the goal. It just means your character, your values, should align with what readers of your books would expect out of you. Readers would expect a fantasy author to be a fan of fantasy himself. Readers expect a religious fiction author to be religious, a children’s fiction author to at least not hate children, and so on. If you present your stories and characters as allies to a marginalized group and then speak out against that group, you break trust with the reader. If your stories are clearly against a certain group and you speak out for that group or are yourself part of that group, you break trust with the reader.
Whether you like it or not, in becoming a public figure, in having readers who are fans of your work, you also have people who are fans of you, and that comes with responsibility—if you care (and you should). Your actions matter, because there may be readers who may base their opinion of themselves on what you say and do. If you don’t uphold the standards and expectations set by your characters, why should they? If they loved something so deeply that it became a part of them, and then you yanked the rug out from under them, they may question their own judgement.
If you are popular as an author, you are popular because of your readers. Your responsibility is to be genuine with them and ensure your character aligns with your characterS and the lessons you have them teach your readers. As noted in the previous blog, you write for yourself; you publish for your readers. As you continue to write (if you write more), you should continue to write for the reasons you started, but if you choose to publish, you should keep the readers in mind. Think of how your actions impact those around you, always, but as an author, think about how your actions impact your readers.
Finally, authors have a responsibility to themselves. If authors are people, authors have the same needs all other people have. We must eat. We must rest. The current Ambergrovian main character is a former smith, so let’s look at the “pouring from an empty cup” adage in smiths’ terms.
Your day is a blade in a forge. A blade can only be hammered so much. If the smith works the blade slowly and precisely, they can create something magnificent and strong. If the smith hammers too hard, the blade will become thin and brittle and will not stand to what coming days have in store for it. If you put too much pressure on yourself in the day (too much hammering in the forge), you damage yourself and you weaken what you can do in the future. If you work deliberately, rest deliberately, and stop when you’ve reached your limit, the work you do will be strong and you will be able to handle what the next day will bring. Tomorrow may bring a new blade to forge, but that doesn’t mean that today’s blade doesn’t need to be made well. That means the rest you take today matters just as much as the work for you to have a sustainable tomorrow.
This is an idea I’ve been struggling with my entire life. I have always equated my worth to how much work I could cram in the day, how many responsibilities I could take on, and I’ve viewed rest as something to be earned (and something I rarely ever earn). But rest isn’t something to be earned. Rest is necessary to help us become something strong. When a blade is forged, it spends time heating and cooling in addition to being hammered on the anvil. To be made strong, the blade needs all of it. What kind of blade will you forge yourself to be?
Conclusion
Being an author doesn’t mean being infallible, but your intention matters. You must ensure you remain a person that readers can look up to and ensure you do not break trust with those readers. However, you must also ensure that you look after yourself and do not hammer yourself too much. Maintain progress as you can, but sometimes life happens. When you fall and you need to rest, rest. Properly care for yourself. You are not only human after all—you are steel in a forgefire. Pace yourself and become a magnificent blade … and show your readers healthy ways to forge themselves as well.
Additional Note
It has been 15 days since I hit my head, and I’m improving somewhat—but not much. However, as I announced these blogs last month, I wanted to ensure I didn’t immediately drop the ball. I tried to do more. I did. I contested the advice to rest. All that happened was that I fell further. So, I stand by the advice here, but I do intend to reread and edit it once I’m back to 100 percent functionally.
Tales of Ambergrove 