This post is for anyone who’s ever had someone sneer at their work, dismiss their creative effort, or leave a comment that made your eye twitch.
You know the kind of thing I’m talking about, right? That smug, know-it-all energy. The kind of person who delights in making you feel small. They imply they’d never read your work (or worse, did read it and found it beneath them).
I had that happen recently. Someone, an anonymous commenter, of course, because it always is, left a bitchy remark that essentially boiled down to: “Ugh, I would never read anything YOU write.”
My reaction surprised me.
It wasn’t anger or defensiveness. It wasn’t even the petty little voice that wants to send a link to every damn thing I’ve ever published and excerpts from the great reviews.
Instead, I thought: Good. I don’t want you to read my work. You’re not my ideal reader.
And friends, let me tell you, what a revelation. What freedom. What delicious clarity.
So that’s what I want to write about today: defining your ideal reader, owning your voice, and letting the rest fall away. Because not everyone is going to “get” you… and they’re not supposed to.
THE TRAP OF WRITING FOR EVERYONE
When you’re early in your writing journey, or even years in, it’s easy to fall into this trap of trying to appeal to the widest possible audience.
You might think, “If I just soften this a little or if I add a bit of romance or make this character more likeable maybe more people will connect with it.”
But here’s the truth: the more you try to make your work universal, the more it becomes generic. It’s like trying to host a dinner party for everyone in the phone book. You’ll end up serving lukewarm lasagna and awkward silence.
When I work with writers using the Blueprint for a Book framework, one of the key steps we go through is identifying the ideal reader. Not the imaginary everyone but a specific, tangible person. Someone with quirks, needs, fears, and longings.
This isn’t marketing fluff. It’s foundational.
Because if you don’t know who you’re talking to, you’ll end up talking to no one.
WHAT IS AN IDEAL READER, REALLY?
Let’s define it. Your ideal reader is not just someone who might pick your book up at an airport bookshop. Your ideal reader is someone who will pick up your book because they need it.
In the Blueprint, we go beyond surface-level demographics and ask questions like:
What keeps your ideal reader up at night?
What does she want more than anything in the world?
What can your story give her that will soothe, delight, challenge, or transform her?
Sometimes what your reader needs is not “healing” or “insight”. Sometimes she just needs a bloody good escape. Sometimes she needs to see herself reflected in a heroine who’s messy and brilliant and not here to shrink herself for anyone.
That’s why knowing your reader’s pain doesn’t mean exploiting it. It means meeting it.
Let me give you a personal example.
I write stories for readers who know what it’s like to feel invisible. People who’ve had to bury parts of themselves to survive. Queer readers. Grievers. Lovers of ghosts and ruins and complicated tenderness.
So when some keyboard warrior shows up to snort and say “Not for me”, I don’t feel the urge to convince them.
I feel affirmed. Because they’re right.
It’s not for them.
It’s for the person who sees that line I wrote and thinks, “Oh God, yes. That’s me. That’s how it felt”.
YOU NEED TO SAY SOMETHING. NOT EVERYTHING.
Let’s be blunt: Writing for “everyone” is just a way of hiding.
It’s a way of never fully committing to a point of view, a tone, a theme, a truth. It’s a way of hedging. Like you’re saying, “Please like me. I can be palatable. I promise I won’t make you uncomfortable”.
But the best writing, the kind that stays with people, that gets under the skin, is rarely palatable. It’s sharp and salty and has teeth. It says something that’s not meant for everyone, but absolutely essential for someone.
There’s a section in the Blueprint I always come back to: What would your ideal reader say after finishing your book?
That’s a brilliant question, because your writing should feel like a conversation. Like your book just leaned across the table, took your reader’s hand, and said something true.
And if someone else overheard that and went, “Ugh, I’d never say that…” great. They’re not at the table. They can go find another one.
FLIPPING THE SCRIPT ON CRITICISM
Let’s return to that mean comment for a moment. Because this is important: criticism isn’t always bad.
Constructive feedback? Vital.
Thoughtful critique from someone in your ideal audience? Gold dust.
But lazy, mean-spirited dismissal? That’s not feedback. That’s static.
When you’ve done the work to define your ideal reader, you have a compass. You know whose opinions matter.
So instead of spiralling - “What if they’re right? What if I’m a fraud? What if I should quit?” - you can say, “Nope. That’s just someone eavesdropping on a conversation that wasn’t meant for them”.
AN INVITATION TO BE BRAVE
So here’s your invitation, writers:
Get clear on who you’re writing for.
Speak directly to them.
Let everyone else go.
Not rudely. Not arrogantly. Just quietly. Powerfully. Like you’re closing the door to a room where something sacred is being shared.
Your story doesn’t have to be universal. It just has to be honest and true and for the reader who needs it.
If someone sniffs and says, “Well I would never read that,” you can smile and think:
Good. You’re not invited.
And if you want help defining your ideal reader and building your story from the inside out, you can learn more at thebookcoach.co. That’s where I share tools, resources, and coaching offers to help you write the book only you can write.