In 2008 I started working on my novel. Well sort of. I decided to start writing again seriously. Made all sorts of preparations to change my life including joining the BSFA, networking, blogging, reading more etc. At first I convinced myself I needed to write short stories, get my name out there, get published quickly. I have lots of ideas or beginnings of ideas. However, I found it really hard to flesh anything out concretely. Not that I didn't try, because I did. I even successfully completed a long short story and a the first halves of a few others.
My mind, however, was on other things. Characters, settings, plot ideas had been floating around in my head for quite some time. Slowly they had begun to evolve, take on a life of their own. At first I thought it might be a series of short stories, or a novel and short stories in the same universe. I tried writing the stories, but they kept coming out as novels or more like chapters of novels. I just seemed to have too much to say and the constraints of the short story didn't fit the story I wanted to tell.
I read this great tongue-in-cheek, but actually quite serious post by writer James Burt "7 tips for being a great writer.". I don't agree with all seven, but it's irreverence in the face of writing "rules" you often encounter from established and not authors, and writing experts of all kinds put my mind at rest about trying to live a writing life in the same way everyone else does.
Eventually I decided on just concentrating on writing a novel. It's what I wanted to do in the first place. It's all I've ever wanted to do really. I had already spent a lot of time thinking about the story, the characters and the plot and had already made a few abortive attempts at starting the novel. So, I set to work on an outline. I fleshed out some character details, a historical background and then a rough plot/chapter plot outline. Then I was ready to sit down and write chapter one.
I wrote chapter one, and I revised chapter one, and I re-wrote chapter one. I really struggled with the opening. I changed the location, changed the POV, changed some of the elements of the characters and the tweaked the plot. Basically from January until last Saturday I hammered on that beast until I finally felt like I had gotten somewhere with it.
I should point out that I don't write everyday. I was (mostly) doing my writing all day on Saturdays and a few afternoons here and there. And of course, always, always thinking about it and fretting over it. People kept telling me to leave it alone and move on, but I couldn't. I wouldn't. I had let go of the idea that it has to perfect the first time out, but I knew in my heart it just wasn't where it needed to be. It wasn't flowing, it wasn't natural, it didn't lead the story forward to the next logical step. That is what I couldn't let go of.
So, yep it was hard. Fucking hard actually. I had spent all that time "thinking" and "planning" doing all the prep work instead of jumping in blindly and then getting lost like I normally do. Yet, I knew there was something there and it was going to come out or kill me. Thankfully it wasn't quite so dramatic in the end, but we did struggle chapter one and I. We fought tooth and nail for several months until I tamed that beast and put it in it's cage.
As soon as that was over, I was swiftly on to chapter two. Which after witnessing the titanic struggle between me and chapter one, took pity on me and was coaxed forward. It still needs some refining, but I don't have to overhaul it line by line. We aren't exchanging caustic blows only the occasional heated word or furious glance. We're still friends chapter two and I.
It really did feel like a mental battle. Urged on by watching the tweets and Facebook status of friends successfully completing projects or winning deals, or just generally getting on with writing their own chapters with apparent ease. For me though, I couldn't move forward until I was ready. I took comfort in something David A. Forbes said in a twitterchat about how long it took him to write his first novel and that the second one and subsequent ones became easier and easier.
My timetable has changed over and over, and pretty much gone out the window. Where am I now? perhaps I might have three decent draft chapters by the time I hit the writing weekend I'm attending for end-of-May bank holiday. Perhaps I won't. Deadlines looming are not really incentive for me outside of a work context, especially with writing. As I always say to my husband "I'll do it in my own time". So maybe I won't be as prolific as some sf authors, but what I am really aiming for is a good product. Something people will read over and over again. Characters that the reader can identify with and believe in. A plot that enthrals and a universe that captivates. Not too much to ask from a work of fiction. Not everyone will love it, but I have to. That is the only criteria. I know when something I wrote is crap or "not good enough". I don't always want to admit it to myself, but usually I will given to it. My ego is not that fragile.
Some people just get it all down and then go back and revise the whole book. I seem incapable. It niggles at my mind, haunts my dreams, plagues my waking thoughts. If it isn't right, it isn't right. I might have to edit or revise again later when the book is finished or at the wishes of the editor or publisher, but at the very least the product I give them has to make me feel proud. Not in a bloated egotistical way "I wrote this, it is brilliant". More in a "I worked dammed hard, I bled into those pages, I made it right" kind of way. If that makes sense to anyone.
I go on about this all the time to my writing group. Some of us are motivated by achievement. Writing the novel and completing it are the achievement, it satisfies a need. Then others of us are motivated by power. It has to be worthy of the eyes and opinions of others. If it's not we won't show it. We won't open ourselves to the possibility of ridicule if we are unsure. I suffer from the power motivation more often than the achievement one (although if you gave me the test that shows you such things they are equal) in my writing. I want people to think well of me and I want them to think my writing is good. There I said it. I admit it. I can't go on until I know it's something I can not be ashamed to show someone else. I do accept that not everyone will think it is good, but if I've given them little to nitpick or tear apart than I can be satisfied and there in lies the achievement.
In conclusion, I borrow from Ian Sales' blog "It doesn't have to be right, it just has to sound plausible" and twist it to my own way of thinking about my writing...
It doesn't have to be finished, it just has to be good.
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