Reasons why I still haven’t finished my novel
I’m twenty-one years old. Stop pressuring me.Whenever I write a (long-ish) story, the end is always substantially better than the beginning – because in the span of writing it, I’ve already improved the general quality of my writing. No amount of editing and going backwards will fix this.
College and MFA creative writing courses emphasize short stories over novels. Shift in priorities?
I don’t always love writing short stories, so I switch back to writing novels, effectively wasting my time (so says my mother).
I procrastinate on writing a novel by writing another novel.
This notebook full of notes? That’s work!! Work, I tell you! And one day, it’ll culminate in something!
Tough to grasp the entirety of the human experience as a seventeen year old.
Tough to grasp the entirety of the human experience as a twenty-one year old.
Tough to grasp – wait, this excuse isn’t going to work, huh?
My writing process involves first-hand research. This is a time-consuming process that has resulted in smoky nights and flat beer. But it’s all part of the process, I swear.
When writing a book partly inspired by a guy, make sure you’re already done with the guy. Your relationship with him will screw with your head and your story.
Second person is more annoying than you think. You are not Lorrie Moore.
I’m lazy.
I run a magazine, a blog, tweet, have a facebook, have a tumblr, and basically have so many more distractions than Fitzgerald ever did.
Who am I kidding? Scottie had Zelda.
Reading counts as part of the writing process, because, I’m, um, expanding my horizons. Actually, everything counts as part of the writing process.
Including Sunday mornings waiting for the bus in front of Central Park, wearing a tight black dress and smelling like Saturday night.
Including the time you woke up in the middle of the night to listen to your friend snore in the bed beside you.
Including the summer day you waded into the fountain in front of the Woodrow Wilson School in a flowy white dress.
Including every moment you spend waiting in line for Starbucks, and then drinking it as the bus driver ignored you waiting at the stop.
Including all your reading for all your college classes, even the boring ones.
Including what your sister cries about, or what makes your brother laugh, or why you ignored your friend’s phone call to finger-paint with them both.
This is all great, but I still haven’t gotten my six-figure advance, and I’m getting antsy.
Maybe I should switch majors.
Maybe I should start writing a new novel – really? really? again??
Let’s face it, I waste all my time reading articles debating MFA programs.
I like your article, Nidya. I finished my first novel about four months ago, I haven’t spoken to anyone about it apart from my mum till then. Though, once I finished, I told all my friends as if I had become a writer all of a sudden.
And I had two thoughts on my mind. First: How the hell did I write 110,000 words in two years?
That thought was obviously a very pleasant one. Then came the second thought: Is this ‘thing’ I call a novel, really a novel? Am I ready to show it to the world? Well, obviously I wasn’t. I’ve been editing my ‘pages’ for the past four months, and all I have to say is that, if you find it difficult to find inspiration and/or time to write, how strong will be your eager to actually polish it in long months when you’ll be even more anxious about it, because it’s ready, and you have to tell people it’s ready, and you keep telling people, but you read again and again, your 280 pages of a Word document, and you find so many mistakes, not only grammar and syntax, but, actual plot flaws, and character flaws – this character doesn’t suppose to say this here, if 100 pages earlier, she is saying the opposite…
These are only an insight of my despair at the moment. But I’ll keep going, because I have a novel to polish, although the plot is finished, so I believe. People will suggest that you’re too young, that you ought to experience more stuff, that you haven’t suffered enough… I suggest that you concentrate, and leave behind the things that ruffle your creativity. And find your time. I’m sure there’s enough material inside your head, you only need to organise it.
My novel is in second person, I find it easier to write in second person once I learned how to judge my own mistakes. Also, I always doubt first person narrators who know too much about other’s livings. I prefer a very mean second person narrator who is fully allowed to know about everyone and judge as badly as I wish I could judge all my ex boyfriends. It helps to eliminate grief. But you have to find a narrative voice, and stick to it. And you must enjoy it, and it must come to you as if by osmosis. Don’t force it. And finally, it must complete your everyday, as if, you couldn’t live without having some time with it at least one hour a day. You must miss it!
And, just commenting on your other post, the one in which you argue about artists and mental illness. In my opinion, depression and alcoholism (and all other bad things that affect human health) only work once you can benefit from it, otherwise, you’ll never going to understand Fitzgerald’s methods. When I’m drunk I can’t write, whereas, when I’m depressed, alone and sober, I do my best bit! That’s just me.
Well, hope that was helpful! Add me on tumblr if you wish to: http://thaisepf.tumblr.com/ I’ve created it for the purpose of putting my writing ‘out there’, but, no courage to be found yet.
Good luck!
Thaise.
Thaise,
Thanks for your comments! I’m glad to hear that others have shared these experiences. Good luck on your novel and let us know how your edits go!
Nidya.
Thanks, Nidya.
I’ve written an extra scene tonight, which I am happy about, but at the same time, it annoys me a little… It’s a thousand more words to think about, and to proofread, and etc. It seems it will never end! But I’ll let you guys know when I have good news… also. =)
Ps: Thanks for following on tumblr!
Thaise.