I’m a completionist—when I pick up a book, I read everything that can be read in it, from the blurb on the back cover to the excerpts of positive reviews inside, the author’s note, the translator’s note, and, most importantly, the acknowledgements. Try as I might, I can’t skip the latter; I feel guilty of doing so. Why is that?
When we talk about writing, we focus on just the writer and their experience of writing a book. We ask what inspired them, how they finished the first draft, how they overcame the inevitable writing blocks, how they persisted when they felt like quitting, and so on. Reading about writers’ processes might make it feel like that’s all that a book needs—a person who will sit down at their desk and write it into existence. There’s no dearth of essays on the necessary or inescapable solitude of the writing life.
But reading the acknowledgements of every book I finish has shown me that writing a book is anything but solitary. Not just women but all writers need a room of their own to write a book. And it is other people who provide us with this room—our family who gives us the time to write, understanding our need to tell a story. It is them who ensure that we don’t forget to eat (or those who are doing the work behind the scenes at a hotel or a residency while you work). There are people who listen to your ideas about what your book is going to be about, people who keep checking in on your progress, encouraging you in your worst moments. There are people who read your stuff and give you feedback. There are agents who consider your work and decide to champion it (or decide they’re not the one who can be the champion, so that you can look elsewhere for someone who can). There are editors who want to bring that book to others, making sure every page reads so smoothly the reader forgets they’re not actually inside the story. There’s an artist who dresses up your book in a cover that will draw readers, a copywriter who will write a blurb, a photographer who will take a picture your readers will know you by, marketers who want to make sure your book gets seen, bought, borrowed, read, reviewed.
It takes a village to raise a child—and also to birth a book. Without the support of dozens of people, without them taking responsibility of what finally reaches the readers, the books we love so much and the books we ourselves want to gift to the world would not become their best versions. They would not exist beyond simple files on our computers.
All of my writing life, I’ve been writing alone. I never joined a writing course or a writing community. Yet my writing wasn’t a solitary effort, because my family gave me the time and space to write. Kind editors at different publications gave me feedback, worked with me on editing my pieces to make them better. Readers commented on my work, and their comments encouraged me, told me that I could write the kind of things I didn’t think I was capable of writing. And all this time I didn’t even write a book, nor do I have plans to.
No writing is a one-person product. No writing that reaches readers has been touched by only a single person. Reading the acknowledgements section in books has given me a revealing and deep recognition of the process of book writing, which requires not just time, but immense patience, and the work of dozens of people who care about telling and sharing good stories.
Not only has reading the acknowledgements improved my appreciation for all those people who have enabled the existence of some of my most favorite books, but it has also prevented me from taking my ability to write for granted. Writing is a right, but writing and having readers is also a privilege. It has kept me from being too proud—my writing ability is not my practice alone, but also the support of the people who made space for me to practice. It has prevented me from being snobbish, and removed any illusions about individual talent or failure.
And so while I’ve written previously about how the individual writer can overcome perfectionism and doubt and keep going even when they don’t want to, I’d also like to direct readers to the acknowledgements section and to try writing one of their own, even if they’re yet to write their book, even if they never plan to write one. Because if you are sitting at your table with words written on a screen or on a paper, then there is most definitely someone else who has led you here and they deserve a thanks, from not just you but from all readers, for all the stories you will tell us, for the writer they made of you, in however small a way. To all of those people—including you, dear reader—I present my deepest gratitude.
Bio: Ratika Deshpande is a writer from India. Her work has appeared in Authors Publish, Reactor Magazine, the Brevity Blog, and other platforms.
