🖇️ Why Being Wonderfully Diverse Can Feel Like Being Scatterbrained
On writing in multiple genres, market demands, and finding focus
I’m in awe of specialists, people who know how to do one thing really well. People who dedicate their lives to excel at one art or truly grasp the complexity of one fragment of our world. People like Japanese craftsmen or scientists.
I’m not such a person. Even as a child, I was pulled in various directions, writing serial stories and dancing classic ballet. In college, I couldn’t choose between literature and philosophy, so I studied both, stacking unrelated classes on top of one other instead of diving deep into one subject.
While getting my first novel ready for publication, I briefly thought I had arrived: I would be a serious novelist and nothing more. I would write novel after novel and improve upon my art with each book until I had become the best version of myself. But soon after the novel’s release another writer asked me to contribute a short story—an entirely different art form—to a prestigious anthology and I immediately said “yes.” I was also asked to play an active role in promoting the book, attending readings, literary events, and even a morning TV show.
Soon after, I understood that (most) novelists cannot live on their book royalties alone and need multiple income streams. I became an editor and web designer, published travel articles on Paris (were I lived), started an author platform that led nowhere, became my husband’s production coordinator, translated Dutch texts into English, and sold personal essays to magazines to promote the novels I fortunately still had time to write.
Then the book publishing business changed, social media became more important, and I began writing in English for a market I barely knew. I discovered flash fiction and wrote a multitude of very short stories to find my voice and figure out what I could do in my second language. It was an exhilarating time of experimentation and gratification.
With renewed confidence, I also learned the art of pitching and querying—I made so many lists!—and found a lovely literary agent in the US who wanted to represent my work. (She still does!)
Meanwhile, my husband, a multi-talented artist, paused his career in music to write fiction. One day, we felt inspired to take notes on a story we’d been imagining for a while, and without thinking of a long-term strategy, we wrote a children’s book together, A Whale in Paris. My agent became his agent, and she got us a deal with Simon & Schuster in no time.
So, was I a children book’s author now?
Well… we wrote another children’s book together, but this one didn’t find a home. I began publishing book reviews to help authors I admired. A family tragedy during the pandemic turned me into a memoirist, and then I had the bright idea to start this Substack newsletter about our nomadic life, only to discover that my most popular essays are about different subjects entirely: my 107-year-old grandmother, for example, or my multicultural marriage.
I often wonder: Am I dabbling? Or am I flexing my muscles in multiple genres to improve my overall writing skills?
At times, I truly feel scatterbrained. I worry that by dividing my attention between all these fields, I stay on the surface and never get to master anything. I worry that readers—yes, that means you—won’t connect to my writing if I veer in too many directions at once. Most book professionals recommend that authors make themselves recognizable to their readers by working on their brand. It’s what the market demands.
I could stick to one genre, I suppose. I could abandon short work to focus solely on book-length manuscripts. But doing so feels like closing doors to future opportunities and worse: It feels like limiting myself.
Working on a novel can be a long and lonely process. I get energy from publishing essays and short stories on various subjects. I feel more attuned to my nomad life if I can simultaneously share it with you. Writing in multiple genres also allows me to make valuable connections in the literary world. I’ve made most of my author friends because I write personal essays, book reviews, and flash fiction. For that reason alone, I should never doubt this path.
But I value my diverse output most for how it broadens my thinking and enlarges my life. I don’t always know what I have to say about a subject until I put pen to paper. I cannot always grasp how I feel about an experience until I turn it into a story. Writing makes me more alert to what grieves me and what gives me pleasure.
My words might not find me the point in life, but they often point me in the right direction.
“L’Être est ce qui exige de nous création pour que nous en ayons l’expérience,” wrote Maurice Merleau-Ponty in Le visible et l’invisible (1964). Or less elegantly in English: “Being is what demands creation from us, in order for us to experience it.”
I still dream of being a specialist, yet the idea of being proficient in multiple genres begins to appeal to me. I’m proud that I can adapt to different circumstances and can let my writing evolve with me. As I recently explained in a presentation on narrative personas: We writers are multitudes. We have many selves. And it feels wonderful to find ways to let these selves exist side by side, allowing each some time on the stage.
What’s important is to find focus when the situation demands it. When I have a deadline, for example, or when there’s an opportunity I cannot pass up. This spring, I must finish the revision of a novel that’s been calling to me for years and whose premise I finally comprehend. So in the coming months, I’ll dedicate a good portion of my writing time to this book. I’ll let you know how that goes.
Related Posts
If you enjoyed this essay, you might also be interested in reading:
Time to Say Goodbye
Daniel and I prolonged our stay in Minca, in the jungle of Colombia. Biting midges are a serious problem here and I’m suffering from many itching bites, despite my wearing long sleeves and long pants and plenty of DEET: Brief moments of vulnerability cannot be avoided. But it’s beautiful here, with the river rushing nearby, humming birds flashing across our terrace, and the mist hanging high in the mountains.
All my best,
Claire
P.S. Would you like to work with me on your own wonderfully diverse writing? I’m available as an editor, ghostwriter, mentor, book coach, and teacher. Please get in touch with a direct message or by email (clairepolders at gmail dot com).
Hmmm - you sound like me except with crafts and art. I crochet, have done quilting, play the guitar, dance, sew, journal, sing, knitting, scrapbooking.
From one multi genre person to another. Keep going.