Why Should You Write It? Why Not Someone Else?
This is the most personal question of all.
Writers often hesitate here, unsure how to present themselves without sounding self-promotional. But this is not about self-aggrandizement. If you cannot explain why you are best suited to write this book, a publisher cannot explain it to a sales team. Then the sales team cannot express it to a vendor. Then the vendor cannot describe it to a potential reader.
A strong idea is not enough. A viable market is not enough. A publisher must also be convinced that you are the right person to write this book.
Credible authorship can take many forms. Expertise based on years of study, professional experience, or recognized leadership in a field is notable. It may come from an immediacy of having lived what you are writing about. Or it may be that hard-to-define author platform where an established audience already looks to you for insight.
Think of answering the question “What compelled you to create this project?” Passion, when properly expressed, reveals sincerity. It signals that the book is not merely an idea, but a burden you felt called to write. (Avoid saying “God gave me this book” since it can suggest that editors or agents must agree, or else they are in disobedience to God.)
At the same time, publishers are going to ask, “Why not someone else?” If another author with a larger platform or deeper credentials could write the same book more effectively, your proposal suffers from the comparison. Your job is to show that your book idea is not interchangeable, as if anyone else could write it just as well. Yours is tied, in some essential way, to your voice, your experience, and your relationship with the potential.
All of this is especially hard for a follower of Christ who is trying to model humility. I suggest that no one else can sell your idea as well as you can. Therefore, be bold!
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5 Questions Your Proposal Must Answer Series:
Question 1. Is Your Audience/Platform Big Enough?
Question 2. Is Your Idea a Book or a Magazine Article?
Question 3. How Is Your Book Different (And Is It Different Enough)?
Question 4. Will Enough People Pay for Your Book?
Question 5. Why Should You Write It? Why Not Someone Else?
I suppose I might be a good example of a person who should should not write a book that maybe should not be written anyway.
This is going to be a bit wordy, so I’ll ask your pardon in advance.
Given the success and outreach of Randy Pausch’s The Last Lecture, I’ve been asked why I don’t write something in a similar vein. I’ve lasted a lot longer than the doctors thought I would, and even though now it’s getting really, really hard (a trip to the dunny requires careful planning and mobility assistance from a Great Dane), I still find life very much worth living, and the hard days have only deepened my faith. I wouldn’t change things.
And that last line holds the reason I’m the wrong person to write about this excursion; many, many people simply don’t believe that I’m happy, and that these are my best days. I’ve been told, to my face, that I’m either posturing or in denial. A liar or a fool!
It gets boring to try to convince people.
So there’s that; Randy Pausch was very relatable, in his honest fear and heartbreak (and that of his wife). I’m not.
But the more serious issue, dealing with the subject itself, is that The Last Lecture isn’t really about cancer. It’s about making your childhood dreams come true, and it’s given sharp focus and immediacy through the lens of a ghastly illness.
Randy Pausch was a professor of robotics, had been a Disney Imagineer, and had a host of cool things on his resume. I don’t. There’s no story here, and cancer, in and of itself, isn’t a story.
And perhaps that’s as it should be. As I write this, two puppies, Oscar the Pittie and Juno the Malinois, are playing at my feet. They had no-where to go, and the narrative arc God wrote for my life and character gave them a safe place.
If that’s legacy, it’s more than I could have asked.
Maybe you should still write a book. Most people relate more to a small life of rescuing dogs than a glamorous one working for Disney! When my Grandma passed away from cancer, her peaceful acceptance made a huge impact on me, especially since I’m trying to grow out of the lie in my head that says everything is in my control, and therefore to my credit or fault. Personally, I find your take refreshingly inspiring! You might be surprised how many perfectionist, control- freak types could learn something important from your story. That said, I understand that a project like that takes an incredible amount of energy, which you might not have the capacity for anymore. May God bless you as you use each day for Him!
Kelsey, you’ve given me food for thought.
The only reason I write anything now is to try to help, to try to encourage. There’s really no other mission for my words.
I’d have to figure out the framing, and the narrative arc, and yes, it would take more energy than I think I have…but God has ways of sending help, in this case perhaps a remission or a collaborator, when help is needed most.
Thank you for this.
Thanks for this insight, Steve! This is an angle I hadn’t thought to elaborate on in a proposal, since it doesn’t seem to be as immediately relevant to fiction. I tend to think of credibility as numbers on an email list. Your advice is encouraging, but leaves me with a few questions. The novel I’m working on draws deeply from my own personal experience with chronic illness and my struggle with maintaining a facade of control and competence. While the external shape of my character’s story bears little resemblance to my own, (it’s by no means a memoir) I do relate deeply to my main character’s struggles and growth arc. To what extent would you recommend highlighting this authenticity in a pitch and/or proposal? Part of my answer to, “Why this author?” is external (chronic illness journey) and part of it is spiritual (bodily autonomy and control vs surrender.) I don’t imagine you want to see a huge trauma dump in proposals, so how would you suggest presenting this in a concise and compelling way? A sentence or two in the bio? Or a whole paragraph or section dedicated to explaining the author’s connection with the story? Where would you draw the line between captivating empathy and cheesy over- sharing in a fiction proposal? I’d love to hear your thoughts, thanks!
It’s so much easier to write about something you’ve lived through or an journey you’ve accompanied someone with. Memory can be a valuable gift.
I may be the best person to write about the journey because my companion may not be able to express himself/herself. Most of my friends don’t have the gift of the gab with a keyboard like I do. So long as there’s spellcheck and a good editor!
Boldness has never been my strong suit. Raised never to brag on myself, I later revisit words I’ve spoken in a conversation and reprimand myself for saying something that may have sounded like bragging. Now that I’ve become a writer/author, I’ve discovered a boldness that seeps out when I feel strongly about something.
Writing about situations I’ve lived through and survived, I can share because of my experiences. Being an introvert, I can write these stories better than I can verbalize them.
Oops, I meant to post this in the main thread, sorry!
Thanks for this insight, Steve! This is an angle I hadn’t thought to elaborate on in a proposal, since it doesn’t seem to be as immediately relevant to fiction. I tend to think of credibility as numbers on an email list. Your advice is encouraging, but leaves me with a few questions. The novel I’m working on draws deeply from my own personal experience with chronic illness and my struggle with maintaining a facade of control and competence. While the external shape of my character’s story bears little resemblance to my own, (it’s by no means a memoir) I do relate deeply to my main character’s struggles and growth arc. To what extent would you recommend highlighting this authenticity in a pitch and/or proposal? Part of my answer to, “Why this author?” is external (chronic illness journey) and part of it is spiritual (bodily autonomy and control vs surrender.) I don’t imagine you want to see a huge trauma dump in proposals, so how would you suggest presenting this in a concise and compelling way? A sentence or two in the bio? Or a whole paragraph or section dedicated to explaining the author’s connection with the story? Where would you draw the line between captivating empathy and cheesy over- sharing in a fiction proposal? I’d love to hear your thoughts, thanks!