As writers, we're often told to push boundaries, to challenge ourselves and our readers. At least that’s what I’ve learned in the workshops and classes I have taken to improve. But what happens when you take that advice to heart and create something that might be too challenging? That's the question I've been grappling with since completing my latest novel, "Fault Lines."
From the outset, I knew "Fault Lines" was going to be different. I set out to create a multi-layered narrative with shifting realities, a story that would challenge readers to keep up and, hopefully, reward them for their efforts. It was a deliberate choice, but one that came with its own set of anxieties.
One beta reader's review captured this perfectly:
“One of the novel's most impressive aspects is its ability to maintain coherence despite its complex, multi-layered narrative. Curry navigates the challenging terrain of shifting realities with skill, keeping readers oriented even as the story takes unexpected turns.
While the novel's complexity is a strength, it may occasionally be challenging for some readers to follow. The multiple layers of reality and the frequent shifts between them can be disorienting at times, which may be intentional but could potentially alienate some readers."
Reading this, I felt a mixture of pride and panic. Yes, the complexity was intentional, but would it pay off?
As authors, we pour our hearts and souls into our work. The thought of alienating readers is terrifying. It's not just about sales or reviews; it's about connecting with people through our stories. The idea that the very thing I worked so hard to create might push readers away is a constant source of stress.
Despite these fears, I stand by my decision. Writing isn't just about playing it safe; it's about pushing boundaries and exploring new territories. "Fault Lines" represents a risk I felt compelled to take, a story I needed to tell in this particular way.
The positive feedback I've received so far has been encouraging, but I'm bracing myself for criticism. It's an inevitable part of putting our work out there, especially when we've taken risks.
This experience has taught me an important lesson: at some point, we have to let our work speak for itself. We can't control how every reader will interpret or experience our stories. All we can do is put forth our best effort and hope it resonates.
As "Fault Lines" makes its way into the world, I'm trying to focus on the readers who will appreciate the challenge, who will dive into the complexities and emerge with a rewarding experience. For those who find it disorienting or challenging, I hope they'll give it a chance and perhaps find something valuable in the journey.
In the end, isn't that what storytelling is all about? Taking risks, pushing boundaries, and inviting readers on a unique journey? It's scary, yes, but it's also exhilarating. And isn't that why we write in the first place?