Starting a new novel is like going to hell...every damn time by Faye Snowden

 What writing lessons did you have to keep learning over and over?

I apologize in advance for my answer to this week’s question. I identify as a chronic over-sharer, and I feel like I’m sitting across from a therapist when responding. It doesn’t help that I’m always doing a million things and don’t have time to lie in order to make myself look better. I hope you are up for it so here goes.

The writing lesson I have had to learn repeatedly is how to write a novel. You’d think I had that down by now. I’ve written ten so far, six that have been published, one on the way, and three others that are consorting with the dust bunnies beneath my bed. They are having too good of a time under there. They may not ever see the light of day.

Still, every single time I sit down to draft a new novel, my brains fall out of my head, all except my amygdala which as we know is driven by fear and focused on survival. I simply do not know what I’m doing. I look at my finished novels with their slick covers and my name in large letters and think they must have been written by an alien or someone pretending to be me or when I was possessed by a demon…ahem…because most of my novels are dark as pitch. (There are some fun parts, though, so don’t be afraid to pick one up!) This goes double for my latest book, A Killing Breath, which has a collector edition with sprayed red edges and foil lettering on the cover.

Because my amygdala convinces me I'm about to be eaten by alligators, I scour my bookshelf for the one how-to-write-a-novel book that will release me from my stupor and help me pull off a miracle once again. If I don’t find one there (and I often don’t), I buy more. This phase can last a week or two, or as long as several months during which I become the neighborhood oldster walking the streets confused and mumbling to herself. Thankfully, my neighbors are patient and kind.

I will say, however, that things have gotten better over the years. It could be that I’m more experienced. Or perhaps I’m learning that there is no magic elixir in some yet-to-be-discovered craft book that will help me on my way. Most importantly, I’ve learned that I am not alone. The woman who wrote I know Why the Caged Bird Sings, and one of my favorite poems, Still I rise once said:

Each time I write a book, every time I face that yellow pad, the challenge is so great. I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody and they’re going to find me out.’  --Maya Angelou

 

Of course I’ve found helpful advice in craft books as I’ve mentioned in a previous blog post. But when drafting a new poem, short story, or novel, I’ve learned that no expert on writing is going to save me. It’s just me and the blank page figuring out the best process for the story I happen to be telling at the time. It requires a faith in my ability, like all human beings, to tell a good story. I have to become comfortable with knowing that those first starts may be false ones, and the writing exceptionally crappy. I think about what Octavia Butler, another one of my writing heroes, said about beginnings: "You don't start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it's good stuff, and then gradually you get better at it. That's why I say one of the most valuable traits is persistence."

I am about to finish the last book in my Killing series, the big finale. When I start my next book, will I still experience that momentary period of panic? Probably. But I know the way to get out of it is to just sit my behind down and write. The story will get told one way or another.