Why Should I Care?
by Marina Reis
A couple of years ago, I was reading through one of the entries of our yearly Braun Book Awards—just the first few chapters. The author had decent writing and even a sense of humour that could definitely draw the reader in…but something was missing. I found the book’s topic awkward, borderline out of touch and, most importantly, too oddly specific. In other words, I didn't care. Not thinking much of it, I asked, "Why should we care?" I totally forgot about this incident, until my colleague brought it up again this year, with a laugh. I am glad I was able to give my colleague a laugh, but the thing is, this wasn't a rhetorical question! I really wanted this author to convince me why this personal grievance of theirs mattered. I was rooting for them because there was potentially something there; they just weren’t telling us what. It was very frustrating!
To clarify, all our personal grievances matter. The job loss. The fight with your husband. Your mental health. Even a common toothache or chipped nail deserves a show of compassion or empathy, if you ask me. But good, meaningful book topics these do not make—and yes, this applies to your job loss just as much as your chipped nail.
I come from a fiction background. Every well-written work of fiction reveals, as the novel, short story, or screenplay progresses, how the protagonist's character growth begins to impact not just them, but the community around them. This could be their family, their apartment complex, their city—it doesn’t have to be world-changing, but it should imply impact. This is one principle that I think non-fiction writers should keep in mind as well with the topics that they tackle.
You can start a book with a personal anecdote about your chipped nail, but in order to make this a book worth reading, you want to use that anecdote as a springboard to write a book about, say, nutrition and the impact taking care of our bodies will have on even the smallest, most seemingly insignificant parts of ourselves. Perhaps you want to dive into topics such as how you are incorporating health and nutrition into your parenting. Or perhaps you want to take a political approach and explain how late-stage capitalism doesn’t allow us to prioritize our health, and the small but impactful ways we can help one another change the direction of a culture that encourages self-neglect. Going in this direction, you take one small grievance and let others know why they should care as well.
Let me give you perhaps a more substantial example. You may want to write a book about dating as a modern Christian. Anecdote after anecdote about your failed first dates will have your audience asking, why should I care that so-and-so is bad at first impressions? And, worse, they may put down your book. So, if you are writing a book about dating as a modern Christian, maybe you want to pepper in your idiosyncratic experiences (which is definitely still necessary and will give a personal and intimate touch to your writing) but you also want to answer questions such as, why is this topic so important to me? What does being a lonesome Christian, not only say about me, but about other unmarried Christians and the contemporary church at large? How does modern dating culture and expectations clash with the kind of genuine and spiritual relationship I would like to have with someone? Is this a situation that impacts women and men differently? How can we, as Christians, come together so that everyone can have their interpersonal needs met? I want to see studies about online dating, what has been pegged “the loneliness economy”, and modern isolation and loneliness. Your personal dating grievances with the guy who was rude to the waitress or the one who told you he doesn't like when women wear pants, are not solely going to engage your reader (your sister over a glass of cabernet, maybe, but your reader—no). In other words, if your book’s topic is your dating life, your writing should focus on how this impacts and fits into a larger context.
As you can see, contextualizing your topic to a time and place helps your reader care. You don't have to shoot for the moon. You don't have to solve global malnutrition in a book that started out about a chipped nail. Contextualize your problem, provide us with some studies and statistics alongside your personal anecdotes, and include citations from a secondary source or two. I will give you another example: I recently watched a mini-series called The Devil in Silver. The main character, Pepper, is imprisoned in a mental institution. He is a hot-headed, aggressive, if well-intentioned man. Throughout the course of the mini-series, Pepper learns that he must face his own demons—not just the ones haunting the institution. Pepper’s self-reflection offers him the opportunity to reconnect with the adult son he shamefully abandoned about twenty years ago. This burgeoning relationship with his son is why we care if Pepper chooses to do the right thing or not: his healing is no longer just about him but about his son’s healing and the ripple effects this will have on their lineage.
It can be a challenge getting people to care about what we have to say. Explaining to them why it matters is how we engage them. I don’t want any writer to think that because their topic isn’t world-changing, it shouldn’t be written down and shared. I really hope that the takeaway here is that, as writers, we need to practice introspection and delve deeper into the topics that occupy our minds and that we care deeply about. Chances are, many other people care about it as well; you just need to show them first.
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Did you enjoy this post? You may also be interested in these other posts on publishing.
And, read more by Marina Reis, here.
About this Contributor:
Marina Reis is a Senior Project Manager who joined Word Alive Press in 2017. She graduated from the University of Winnipeg in 2015 with a Bachelor of Arts in English.