The term “Constant Reader” was first used for a column (and later book) in the late-1920s written by the satirist and author Dorothy Parker. In a definitive literary rip-off without ever a single acknowledgment to Parker, Stephen King refers to his readers as “Constant Reader” in many books, to the extent there are t-shirts, “constant reader” book editions, merchandise shops, etc. I guess he figured it was long ago enough that not many people would know about the Parker reference, but he should’ve acknowledged her.
Etymology aside, all writers have constant reader, at least those who churn it out. This isn’t a measure of quality, since regular readership could be attributed to prolificacy.
If you’re a regular reader of my work, maybe you know some of its history. I’ve told the story about my first paid writing piece: a 1980s parking lot exchange where a high school football player made a deal with me (as the high school newspaper editor) to start writing his English papers. This arrangement was fruitful and challenging as the money was tied to grades—more money for higher grades, but I had to write in the style of a jock. He thanked me again at our 25th math high school reunion for a successful business relationship, I thanked him for the beginning of my career.
Since that time 40 years ago, I’ve written thousands of paid pieces ranging from bank annual reports to novels, with primarily countless newspaper, magazine and online articles in-between. At Splice Today for the last 14 years I’ve written hundreds of pieces—weekly at times, lately twice a week and now returning to weekly beginning next week because it’s fall/winter candlemaking season and I’m exhibiting at my first miniature show this spring. I think about who my “constant readers” are; during the challenging task of coming up with story ideas and when I get feedback. Feedback is something that’s changed over four decades.
When I had a newspaper column (“Quite Contrary”) many years ago, there would be a rare (usually positive) letter to the editor about something I’d written, but lifestyle/humor pieces generally don’t get many responses, which is fine with me. I’d be more likely to get feedback in person around the community: “loved your article!” When I edited a regional magazine in Annapolis, I won writing and editing awards, because the magazine industry likes that type of stuff, so that was nice.
And then came Internet writing, and feedback from keyboard warrior trolls. All the sudden it became much easier for people to have anonymous, often cruel opinions. What’s the point of someone being shitty (see also: misogynistic, condescending, etc.) online in comments to you as a writer? Who knows. To make themselves and their existence feel more powerful? Maybe. That used to work more on me years ago when I was more vulnerable to it or cared more about people liking me. I’m jaded now. Only one of us is getting paid to put words out, and it’s not some loser punching down a woman writer from a phone to make his joyless life seem more significant. If your existence is satisfying, you don’t need to bully others to feel good about yourself. We learn in internet writing not to “feed the trolls” and normally I ignore them, but sometimes choosing to engage and defend myself against the bullshit. Is this what they want? My attention? How pathetic, when they could choose simply not to read my work if they don’t like it.
I prefer being grateful for the Constant Readers who’ve followed me across the years. I’m grateful, in an applause-free existence, when someone tells me they read something, because today there’s usually only silence interrupted by the occasional troll. Some days I wonder if it’s worth it. It takes a social media message from a reader who has connected with something I’ve written to remind me that people read even though they don’t say it. Likes and shares are meaningful; I’m grateful to still have the opportunity to be able to publish at all.
I’m working on a compilation book that I hope you’ll check out when I get it organized and published. It’s a lot to ask in the modern era for someone to stop scrolling/running/doing and take the time to read something. Thank you.