How do you write what people actually want to read?
I don’t try to write what people want to read. That might sound strange. After all, if you are going to write something and put it out into the world, you hope that somebody will want to read it. I certainly do. It is satisfying when something I have written connects with another person. But I don’t think I can begin there.
If I start by asking what people want to read, I risk producing something formulaic. I may start thinking about what will sound impressive, what will seem useful, or what response I want to create. Before long, the writing can become another performance.
I would rather begin somewhere else. I try to write the truest thing I know. One true sentence leads to another. Sometimes I don’t quite know where the thought is going when I begin. I write the first sentence, then the next one, and gradually something begins to take shape. Writing becomes a way of discovering what I think.
And I have found that the truest things are often remarkably ordinary. A relationship. A memory. A mistake. Something someone said. A conversation that stayed with me. A small moment that I didn’t understand at the time but have come to see differently years later. None of these things sounds particularly important. They are not achievements to display or lessons carefully packaged for others.
But perhaps that is the point. People are interested in people. We recognise ourselves in the ordinary experiences of others. Someone writes about family, friendship, disappointment, kindness, work, growing older, or a choice they once made, and suddenly we begin thinking about our own lives. The writer’s story becomes a doorway into our own. That is the kind of connection I value most.
I write to reflect rather than to produce a response. I am trying to understand something for myself and then offer that reflection to others. This is what I noticed. This is what happened. This is what I think might be true. The reader is free to do with it what they will. Perhaps they will disagree. Perhaps it will mean nothing to them. Or perhaps they will recognise something of their own experience in mine. When that happens, it is deeply satisfying. But it cannot be manufactured.
Maybe one of the best ways to write what people actually want to read is to stop trying so hard to be impressive, useful or persuasive. Write the truest thing you know. Then write the next true sentence. And see where it takes you.
How do you write what people actually want to read?
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