Day 85 – Writing to please yourself

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Writing for Yourself vs. Writing for an Audience

Why trying to please a “target reader” can lead you straight into a creative dead‑end—and how embracing your own voice can actually broaden your reach.

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1. The Age‑Old Dilemma

Every writer, from the novice journal keeper to the seasoned novelist, has heard the mantra: “Know your audience.” In marketing circles, it’s a golden rule, in academic circles, it’s a prerequisite for a good paper, and in creative writing workshops, it’s often presented as a safety net: “If you write for someone who actually wants to read your work, you’ll have a better chance of success.”

But there’s a darker side to that advice. When the phrase “target audience” becomes a prescriptive checklist, it can morph into a self‑imposed prison. You start asking:

* Should I tone down my humour because “my readers don’t get sarcasm”?*
* Do I need to avoid political opinions because “my audience is 50‑something retirees”?*
* Must I keep my protagonist’s journey “relatable” in a way that feels forced?*

The result? A story that sounds less like you and more like a diluted version of what you think they want. In the worst cases, the writing turns bland, generic, and ultimately forgettable.

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2. The Myth of the “Perfect Reader”

The idea that a single, monolithic reader exists—someone who will love everything you write—is a comforting illusion. In reality:

Reader Type	Typical Expectation	Reality
The “Ideal Fan”	Loves every plot twist, character, and stylistic quirk.	No one loves everything; even the biggest fans have pet peeves.
The “Critical Scholar”	Demands flawless structure and deep subtext.	Even experts can disagree on what qualifies as “deep.”
The “Casual Browser”	Wants light, easy‑to‑digest content.	They might actually crave something thought‑provoking if presented well.
The “Niche Enthusiast”	Wants high‑level technical detail.	Over‑explaining can alienate newcomers; under‑explaining can feel lazy.

Because each individual brings a unique mix of experience, mood, and personal bias to the page, any attempt to write for a single archetype is fundamentally speculative. You can only guess what will click, and even the most data‑driven predictions can’t account for the serendipitous spark that makes a reader fall in love with a line.

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3. Writing for You: The Unexpected Advantage

When you write primarily for yourself, a few things happen that actually help reach a broader audience:

What Happens When You Write for Yourself	Why It Helps the Reader
Authentic Voice Emerges	Readers pick up on sincerity. A genuine tone feels trustworthy and invites empathy.
Risk‑Taking Becomes Natural	You’re more willing to experiment with structure, language, or theme—creating fresh experiences for the reader.
Consistency Beats Conformity	A clear personal style becomes a brand. Readers know what to expect (and love it), even if the genre shifts.
Passion Fuels Persistence	Writing is hard. When the work matters to you, you’re more likely to edit, rewrite, and polish.

Think of it as a two‑way street: the more you love what you write, the more chance there is that someone else will love it too. Authenticity is magnetic; calculated pandering is often invisible.

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4. Real‑World Examples

Author	What They Did	Result
Haruki Murakami	Wrote stories about jazz bars, cats, and surreal parallel worlds because those obsessions fascinated him.	Global cult following; readers across continents adore his “oddly specific” voice.
David Mitchell	Mixed historical fiction with speculative sci‑fi purely because he loved the “what‑if” of time travel.	Critical acclaim and a wildly diverse readership attracted to his genre‑bending narratives.
Samantha “Sam” Cole (fictional indie blogger)	Abandoned a “listicle for millennials” plan, wrote a personal essay on grief because it had to be said.	The post went viral, resonating with readers of all ages who recognized its raw honesty.

These writers didn’t start with a spreadsheet of demographics; they started with curiosity, annoyance, awe, or pure love for a subject. The audience grew organically around that core.

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5. Practical Strategies: How to Prioritise Your Voice Without Ignoring Readers

You don’t have to swing the pendulum completely to “write only for yourself.” Here’s a balanced workflow that preserves authenticity while still being considerate of readers:

1. Start in the “Me‑Zone”
   • Freewrite for 15–20 minutes with the intention only of getting your own thoughts down. No audience in mind.
   • Ask yourself: What excites me? What irritates me? What can’t I stop thinking about?
2. Step Back & Identify the Core
   • Highlight the central emotion or hook that made you write in the first place. This is the seed that will interest readers.
3. Empathy Check
   • Switch hats: If a reader stumbled on this piece tomorrow, what would they need to understand the core quickly?
   • Tip: Write a one‑sentence pitch for a complete stranger. If you can convey the essence, you’re likely on the right track.
4. Selective Polishing
   • Remove self‑censorship that dilutes your voice (e.g., “Maybe I shouldn’t use that slang”).
   • Add clarity where needed (explain a term, give context) without compromising tone.
5. Feedback Loop
   • Share with a small, trusted group who value honesty over flattery. Ask: “Did my voice feel genuine? Was anything confusing?”
   • Use their notes to tighten the piece, not to rewrite it in their image.
6. Release & Observe
   • Publish. Watch the comments, metrics, and, most importantly, your own emotional response.
   • If you feel proud, that pride will translate into future work that continues to attract kindred readers.

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6. “What If” Scenarios: When Audience‑First Fails

Scenario	What Went Wrong	Lesson Learned
A romance novelist writes only “safe” love‑stories to please the “mainstream market.”	Stories lack tension; readers feel the plot is predictable and disengage.	Authentic conflict—whether internal or external—drives investment.
A tech blogger avoids jargon to appeal to “non‑techies.”	Content becomes vague; both novices and experts feel the article is unhelpful.	Clarity doesn’t require “dumbing down”; it requires thoughtful explanation.
A poet tries to mimic the style of a bestselling poet to capture their fanbase.	The work feels derivative; critics call it “imitative.”	Originality beats mimicry; readers can spot a copycat from a mile away.

These cautionary tales reinforce the central truth: no amount of market research can substitute for genuine curiosity and personal investment. When you start building your work on the sand of “what I think they want,” you risk losing the solid foundation of your own voice.

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7. The Sweet Spot: “Write for Yourself and Invite Others In”

Think of writing as hosting a party you love. You decorate the space, choose the playlist, and cook the food because you enjoy it. Then, you open the door and welcome guests. If the vibe feels authentic, the guests will stay, chat, and maybe even bring friends. If the party feels forced, no one will linger.

In practice, that means:

• Let your passion be the headline. Your enthusiasm is contagious.
• Use empathy as the entryway. A brief moment of “what would a reader need?” can help bridge the gap without muting your voice.
• Accept that you’ll never please everyone. The goal isn’t universal approval; it’s a connection with those who resonate.

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8. Takeaway Checklist

	I’m writing because…
1	I’m fascinated, angry, or moved by the subject.
2	I have a unique angle that I can’t find elsewhere.
3	I’m excited to experiment with form or language.
4	I’m willing to edit for clarity, not for conformity.
5	I’m open to feedback that enhances my voice, not replaces it.

If you can answer “yes” to at least three of these, you’re likely steering toward a piece that speaks both to you and, organically, to readers.

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9. Final Thought

“Write for yourself, but don’t forget the world is listening.”

That paradox captures the sweet spot most writers chase: authenticity as your compass, empathy as your map. When you let your inner compass guide you, you’ll find that the world—sometimes unexpectedly—shows up at the destination you never planned.

So the next time you sit down at the keyboard, ask yourself: What would I write if no one were watching? Then, once the words flow, give them a quick glance to make sure the door is open enough for someone else to step inside.

Write boldly, edit kindly, and watch as the right readers find you—because they’ll be looking for the voice you could only have written.

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Happy writing, and may your pages always feel like home.

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If this post resonated with you, feel free to share your own experiences in the comments. How have you balanced personal passion with audience awareness?