The Liminal Margin

The case of making your product in the dark

Someone said to me the other day that much of what writing is is finding your reader. While I agree with that wholeheartedly, for a self-taught writer like myself, it can feel somewhat discouraging. The zero in your readership is as singular as it can be.

I know I am not a ninety-year-old grandma who fries tempura with her bare hands at the back of her house every day. More so, I know Indonesia is not Japan.

I respect and envy the spirit of kodawari, but I know the costs of it: chronic loneliness and exhaustion.

I know my vows and the price I have to pay to live the life that I want, and I have no intention of retreating. But, damn, these are tough times. Extremely.

"You cannot write in the dark; you have to meet your readers."

Yes, I understand. I submitted about seven pieces of writing in the span of a month to open calls and competitions—to meet my audience. I am about to send one today; I just need to do some more line editing. Where is this audience, for crying out loud?

I now suspect that people are not reading books for the purposes or utility that I initially expected.

I falsely assumed that everyone reads for the same reason.

I wrongly believed that everyone reads like me.

Why do people read?

There's a PEW Research study from ancient 2012 that said that it is to gain new knowledge and information. But, in the age of attention-seeking content, new knowledge and information comes really fucking cheap. Everybody can be an expert and sell masterclasses for a fortune. Motivation is everywhere, in all tastes: dark memes, satire humour, soft-girl lore, etc. You name it. Everything is available everywhere: fast, accessible, pragmatic.

So what is the utility of reading in today's age?

Why do I find that there are increasingly many book cafés near my house and just one recently opened in one of the largest shopping centres in town? Why do I find many book clubs of varying comfort levels on Instagram? Not to mention BookTok lore, Bookstagram review accounts, and so on.

Is reading fashionable but not for the act per se?

Is reading, dare I say, a form of social-class signalling now?

I read this book that she read, and she is X, so therefore I am X.

No, I am not being a victim. I am not an idealist try-hard who thinks that my work is "too precious" for the world or "too early" for the market to catch on. I am not above this, so much so that I am willing to experiment to be one of them, just to figure things out.

And that is the central tenet of everything, isn't it: figuring it out? How to write a good piece, how to be published, how to make your ideas heard, etc. It is an audacious effort of someone to force the world to hear her say, "Look at me!" Yes, in the Bene Gesserit voice.

The other day, I was in a flash-fiction workshop by a bestselling author whose works have been translated into many foreign languages and a movie. One participant was angry. He complained that there were no materials being shared, no real techniques, just motivational words. I tend to agree with the gentleman. If I were to be blunt, the facilitator did not even bother to do a full-screen presentation. I can see her coffee-receipt screenshot in the Desktop Finder. It was a bad class. Bad teacher. Bad investment.

Though I can feel the hunger in his voice, someone who has been trying, probably for many years, to crack this world, to figure it out, I am quite sure his questions were misdirected.

It's not: write well >> get published.

It's: write >> X >> get published.

I already knew early on that the world never rewards quality. Meritocracy is a teenage wet dream. And letting your work speak for itself is the greatest misery known to mankind.

What is the X factor?

What is the X in social signalling that makes people want to read your book? What is the X in the pursuit of getting your manuscript published?

I started watching the YouTube channel Adventure Archives right around the pandemic. These boys have been at it for five or nine years prior. They like doing it, so they did it. And lo and behold, the world was put to an end and people were forced to stay inside. They watched Adventure Archives to escape quarantine and see the mountains. The channel blew up.

Did they follow and search for the X to oblivion?

Maybe not consciously, but they certainly did not put a whole brand strategy into it like the average influencer. They are also quite private; they never share anything about their personal lives. We don't even know their day jobs. And it's a breath of fresh air to me. I don't need to hear about your home, kitchen splash, divorce, failures, and achievements. Come on, my guy, how suffocating!

Give us good content. Cause thats what written works are, contents.

If you are a writer, then write about things you like. Because you will be good at it. You will be passionate about making it good. And you will feel happy doing it.

If you are a musician, then write good music.

If you are undecided, then try everything and put it out there.

What's good? Who knows. The ominous they sitting on a bench somewhere and decided that Affandi's paintings are masterpieces. That this person's novel and not this person deserved to be longlisted, or shortlisted, or won the prize.

At the end of the day, artists need to increasingly find ways of perfect our craft. Whatever that craft may be. And perhaps the road to perfection is first made in the dark, with one candle, and a red-eye from pulling an all-nighter. Then words travel; they meet one ear, and two, and three. 'Til it becomes everyone's.