Have you ever related to someone so fucked up…you almost admitted yourself to the nearest hospital ward? Colleen Hoover’s bestselling book Verity is a skin-crawling read I couldn’t put down right from the first line. For the protagonist, Lowen, what starts as a heartbreaking yet hopeful ghostwriting gig quickly turns into outrageous claims, deceitful truths, and open loops. Hoover carries us through an emotional romance thriller while toying with our own humanity, beliefs, and fears. While many critics and readers are wondering how Hoover so eloquently crossed endless (and invisible) lines while still leaving us starstruck through each chapter of Verity’s autobiography, I want to dive deep into five truths Verity shows that every writer needs to consider integrating into their craft.
In the book, we first meet Lowen–a young, semi-homeless writer whose mother recently passed away, leaving her empty in all senses of the word. As she reluctantly travels through NYC to meet her agent for a new project, tragedy strikes right before her eyes with a deadly hit and run, leaving her drowned in blood. A strange but handsome man (who was also now covered in a red, oil-like wardrobe) helped her clean up and calm down, and was then announced as her new client: Jeremy Crawford, the husband of best-selling villainous author, Verity Crawford, who has since been paralyzed and seemingly lifeless after the passing of multiple children and a horrible accident, leaving her unable to finish a contracted series. Since she has no other options, Lowen agrees to the gig regardless of how eerily weird it seems. By the next week, she’s entered The Crawford’s residence and begins her exploration.
After only minutes of rummaging through Verity’s office in hopes of finding unfinished transcripts, or entry outlines at the very least, for the continuation of her series, we see Lowen confirm that this situation is awkward, intense, potentially manipulative…and hopeless after reading her words, “I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I certainly wasn’t expecting this…I tried to cover the chills that have appeared on my arms.” (p.51-52). Then she finds Verity’s darkest villain story imaginable, untouched, unread, and unlawful: So Be It, an autobiography.
Verity spills her deepest secrets through a 79-paged memoir and leaves you wondering who is more fucked up: Verity or yourself. She’s lost 2 children, her mobility, and her dreams. Page after page, we begin to find she was the grand puppet master of each and every tragedy in her life. It sounds dark, but I was enthralled with the relatability to a writer’s life, integrity, and inspiration. Over the next few pages, I will cipher through Verity’s incomparable POV to enhance your skill by pulling out her biggest lessons as a writer. We will learn and unlearn together.
Lesson 1: Give warnings, and then proceed without caution.
At the beginning of So Be It (the book within the book), we meet Verity at a very vulnerable spot. Not only is this the beginning of her piece, it’s the moment many readers will close her book and never return. Her disclaimer is so clear that it acts as a natural vetting system without any additional work on Verity’s part. Why? Verity knows that, as a writer, she has one job: Provide the opportunity to move away and never look back. Then, for those who stay, move the readers through the story, by whatever means necessary. Her author’s note states,
“A writer should never have the audacity to write about themselves unless they’re willing to separate every layer of protection between the author’s soul and their book…No one is likable from the inside out. One should walk away from an autobiography with, at best, an uncomfortable distaste for its author.” (p.61)
As writers, I’ve found we often add rose-colored glasses to our watered-down truths, especially when we begin typing them on a page or writing them inside a notebook. What would it feel like to say, “Hey, I’m about to share my deepest, darkest secrets with you. It’s gruesome. And I don’t plan on you liking me afterward…but you’ll finally know me?” For me, It’s electrifyingly terrifying, leaving this as my writer’s kryptonite. But that’s the thing about pre-planned disclaimers. After I admit I’ve made human fuck ups in my human life and you may be very, very disappointed after reading them, it is the reader’s choice to stay and my duty to follow through, which Verity soon confirms.
“And this is where it gets real. The guts of my autobiography. This is the point when other authors would paint themselves in a better light, rather than throw themselves into an x-ray machine. But there is no light where we’re going. This is your final warning. Darkness ahead.” (p.90)
Is this a warning? Yes. Do I believe many people turned away from it because of this? Absolutely not. This introduction serves as a multi-faceted hook. Sure, it gives you the freedom to look away. She tells you she’s ready to go deep and it’s a dark, endless, lonely cave. But here’s where our fucked-up humanness fails us. We want to read, hear, and see other tragedies so we can make up stories about how we’re not as bad, guilty, or twisted. Ironically, doesn’t this make us, in a different way, just as sick as if we committed the acts ourselves? Once a disclaimer is made by the author and a reader chooses to turn the page, it is no longer the author’s responsibility to make sure the reader’s heart, brain, or body is prepared for anything to come.
Give your warning to let them know what’s coming, then proceed to tell the story without caution and without boundaries.
Lesson 2: Lie? No. Embellish, stretch, and consume? Yes.
One of Verity’s first stories is around the night she met her husband. After a short game of cat and mouse, they find themselves in the back of a limousine covering a quick consultation topic–age. After being called out for lying about her age, Verity tells Jeremy,
“I stretch truths where I see fit. I’m a writer.” (p.68)
While I’ll never tell you to lie, there are times when it is our job to stretch the truth, get the click or page-turn, and continue fueling the story. While this is a huge NO in non-fiction and a slippery slope inside copywriting, a writer’s mission is to get their words read. Sometimes, this comes with the cost of embellishing our novel, story, or response.
In copywriting, blatant lies are spread accidentally, purposefully, and tragically. When we take a look inside bro-marketing tools and tactics, it’s easy to identify the trauma-enforcing patterns of shouting ‘hero’s journey’* and having broken humans flock for a cure. So, how do we…lie ethically? We confidently speak limitless truths while still accounting for human experiences. This doesn’t mean to claim a product works when it doesn’t, but it could mean painting a fantasy dreamscape of true, real outcomes the product or service can provide, accounting for different entry points from the audience.
In non-fiction, stretched truths may appear as dramatized events filled with bias and misled statistics. You didn’t think every non-fiction story was entirely omitted from lies and slander, did you? Non-fiction work, as we see in many school textbooks, is a mere recollection of stories passed down, studies completed by a small fraction of the world, and the pieces of truth we’ve mixed with the holes we haven’t filled. The author’s goal is still the same: get the reader to turn the page, by whatever means necessary.
In fiction, lies are limitless. I will actually go as far as to say that lies are non-existent altogether in fiction because how can a lie be created in a made-up world? Stephen King clarifies this brilliantly by arguing, “Fiction is the truth inside the lie.” Fictional authors carry their readers through a journey no one has ever walked, with the hopes their readers will feel one with the story anyways. The better you are at getting a reader to feel all-encompassed with your story, the stronger it’ll sting, stick, and stay. As Verity says, “I was good at spewing bullshit. It’s why I became a writer.” (p.206)
Sometimes we have to meet people where they’re at with a stretched truth–as long as we are able to follow through.
Lesson 3: Stop asking and start publishing.
A writer’s job is to form an unbreakable link of words into a digestible flow that moves the reader, not portray themselves as the holy grail perfect writer. While it’s human nature to seek validation, aching for everyone to approve of your work will ultimately leave you as a starved artist. Instead, stop waiting for the perfect moment to share your self-proclaimed breathtaking work and start publishing your shitty “I can’t believe I wrote this OR that I’m publishing it but here we go” work.
When we pause long enough to think whether or not any of our work is ‘worth’ publishing, we remove the ability for our audiences to make empowered decisions around consuming our stories…and may eventually end our craft altogether.
Shortly after Verity loses her children, she realizes, “it had been six months since I’d written anything. I needed to get back in the groove. I already missed a deadline” (p.254). Now, I’ve stopped writing pieces more times than I’ve published work, and much like Verity, I have felt like ‘there’s nothing left to say. No future to write about. No past to redeem’ (p.278). Yet, I don’t often push through the same way Verity does. She says,
“My mind was in such a dark space…as a writer, the only way to clear your mind is to let darkness spill out onto a keyboard. It was my therapy, no matter how hard that may be for you to understand” (p.300).
Even in her darkest, life-altering moments, she reluctantly leans onto her craft and lets the words spew out to teach her readers and students how to feel, surrender, and write.
We can’t merely stop after writing, though. Verity reminds us how dainty a writer’s heart and soul can be after publishing new work when a friend, spouse, or family member asks to read it. After her husband finds her first story and asks to read it, she thinks to herself, “I didn’t know if it was any good, and I was scared–terrified–that it would make him love me less if he thought I was a bad writer” (p.87).
Here’s an unpopular opinion for you: It’s none of your business if every reader thinks you’re a phenomenal writer. It is, however, entirely your responsibility to ensure that the heart and guts of your reader move through your story. Maybe they’ll think it sucks. Maybe they’ll think it’s terrifying. Maybe they’ll fall in love with you. None of that is your business once you’ve added your disclaimer and they’ve turned the page. Let them feel.
Lastly, your worth is not depicted by how many readers love you or your books. It is not dependent on your ability to gain fans. Your worth is endless because of who YOU are.
Stop seeking validation and get your work out there already.
Lesson 4: Your life is not your work and your work is not your life.
One cliche that gives me the same feeling as nails across a chalkboard–like I’m sawing off my teeth, layer by layer–is the idea that hustling equates to success. We’re told to take our passions and find a way to make money from them, that is how you live your dreams. But the primary way we’re taught to do this is through day-in and day-out hustle and grind which inevitably leads to hellfire burnout and quitting what once brought so much creativity and joy. So how do we begin separating our work from our lives?
As a writer, I’ve found, much like Verity, the most fascinating part of this craft is being able to step into a thousand different worlds, roles, and settings to get our characters and storyline blissfully pieced together. This way, our readers will feel less like they’re reading and more like they’re transported into an alternate dimension and before they know it, there are no more pages to turn. We do this by becoming our story, in some way, shape, or form, because, as Verity says, “that’s how easy it is for a writer to pretend to be someone they aren’t” (p.299).
But if we aren’t careful…we’ll drown in our own fabricated creations. Once the line between storytelling and obsession becomes blurred, many writers get coined as mad, crazy, or insanely hopeful. “I can’t explain the mind of a writer to you…We’re able to separate our reality from fiction in such a way that it feels as if we live in both worlds, but never both worlds at once,” Verity explains (p.303). Since this is a natural mind-fuck, writers need to set boundaries around workflows. If you don’t, it will consume you in the best and worst ways imaginable.
“If you neglect the machine, you will die. If you assume your conscience can outlive the machine, you will die shortly after learning you were wrong. It’s very simple, really. Take care of your physical being. Feed it what it needs, not what the conscience tells you it wants” (p.103), she commanded after sinking into her body and realizing many changes are coming her way.
Instead of continuously checking in on that blank-page project you’ve been hoping to start, lean back and sit with your feelings. What’s new, coming up, and reflecting onto your work? Where is work overflowing into your life? What boundaries need to be put in place for you to LIVE as a writer, not write as a living?
Lesson 5: Get really good, and then keep practicing.
The last and final lesson Verity teaches writers everywhere is that no matter how good you are, how much success you have, or how close your dreams are, you can always improve.
Society deemed Verity Crawford to be a successful writer, with a published series and more on the way. Her husband, Jeremy, was proud of his wife, and all she had accomplished. Even her publisher was thrilled with her work and was constantly pushing her towards more. Verity knew she had what it takes to become an infamous author and live up to her current hype, but she didn’t stop.
Multiple published books weren’t enough validation. Once Verity realized she wanted to take this as far as she could, she went deeper into her role as a writer by picking up a new writing technique her publisher claimed was, “the best way to improve (her) craft,” (p.298).
You will never be a perfect writer. But with enough strength, persistence, creation, and practice, you can unlock the magical writer inside you that you’ve been longing to transform into. Just get really good at what you know, then learn more.
Hoover’s book Verity provided many lessons for many aspects of life, but she allowed Verity to teach writers how to show up with ugly truth, twisted authenticity, and underlying transformations. Whether you choose to read this next or not, the 5 truths listed throughout this essay can turn your writings into extraordinary but believable stories that leave your audiences stunned and drooling for more.
I highly recommend this quick 321-paged fiction novel to anyone who is willing to read it, but this is your warning: this book is not for the weak-stomached, overly sensitive, or easily put-off group of bookworms. Verity is a dark showing of mental battles, codependency, and secrets, and even you may want to stop reading every few chapters. You can find the trigger warnings for this book here.
Wishing you a never ending journey of powerful writing sessions and mystical reading hours,
-Jess
(P.S. Ready to finally start making money on dream projects as a freelance writer? Click here to sign up for Freelancing for Freedom.)
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