I’ve ventured beyond my comfort zone: someone has actually read (part of ) my novel.
My first reader is a literary critic of the most fundamental kind: a 12-year-old girl who devours books faster than I can read the blurbs on the back. She is also a confident consumer: she knows what she likes and if she doesn’t like a book, she knows there are plenty of others out there she can choose from instead.
She also happens to be my daughter.
Which means her opinion is entirely honest. (She is not afraid to tell me what she thinks. She is almost a teenager, after all.)
While my target audience is young adult (often considered teens), many younger readers “read up”. I honestly don’t care who likes it–younger readers, teens, adults–as long as they like it. 🙂
We have a tradition in our house–no, not so much tradition as habit. Both my husband and I continue to read with our two kids at bedtime. We take turns each night with each kid (four books on the go, one for each combination of child/parent). When my oldest daughter and I gave up on the last book we were reading together, I boldly suggested I start reading my own novel. I warned her it’s still in draft form, but she readily agreed. After all, she’s been hearing about my (snail’s-pace) progress for years.
I held my breath.
A page in…
A chapter in…
A cliffhanger.
“I like it, Mama.”
Yay!
Now, I know that one child, especially a family member (and one who relies on the author for food, clothing, shelter and access to electronics), is far from a consensus that I’ve written a bestseller, but I’ll take the praise wherever I can get it. 🙂
We’re only a quarter of the way in, but I still have my first reader’s attention. I haven’t yet had to explain beyond what’s on the page. I might have to eventually–we’ve read lots of other YA books together where I help her understand the context–but so far, I’ve done ok.
That’s not to say there won’t be changes.
But how heartening that, after 2+ years, someone else has now met Lyra.
My daughter flips ahead in my 370-page print-out. She catches a glimpse of another name. “Who’s David?” she asks. “You’ll have to wait and see,” I say, playing it cool.
But inside, I’m shouting triumphantly. Yay, yay, yay! She wants to read on!
Here’s hoping you will, too, when it finally gets published.