1. 90% of people I tell this fact to don’t care much. This is true even for people I would think would normally be supportive and interested (family, close friends, fellow writers). And maybe they shouldn’t? I don’t have any hard facts, but I suspect a short list of reasons are the following:
- They don’t read, so what’s a novel?
- They think novels are an obsolete art form. (They are probably right.)
- They have their own kids to care about!
- They suspect I might be full of hot air and that I won’t finish it.
- Even though they don’t read, they think that I’m writing a novel because it will convey some sort of status upon myself. (The status of a crazy person?)
2. The most difficult part about writing a novel is knowing that these people likely won’t care much later. I can hope for a wide audience when I have completed the work, but it is unlikely to happen. Imagining the opposite is to be delusional. Not that I shouldn’t try. But let’s be honest here. How many first novels did you read last year?
3. What this means is that at almost every moment, my brain is telling me, “THIS IS THE WORST PIECE OF CRAP IN THE WORLD, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? NO ONE CARES. NO ONE WILL CARE. WHY DID YOU WRITE THAT SENTENCE? YOU KNOW THAT SENTENCE IS THE UGLIEST SENTENCE EVER WRITTEN, RIGHT?” And so on. So at every moment, I have to close all of the firefox tabs and ignore the screaming in my ear and just keep writing. Anyone who writes a novel or book has basically run a marathon. I find it difficult to hate even terrible books now. How could I hate a terrible marathon runner?
4. I can only write a book about something I care deeply about. Everything else seems dull after two weeks.
5. Actually, the best thing to write about are the things I’m most afraid of.
6. And I can’t try to sound smart. I can’t prove anything. Anything I think is smart will seem dumb after a week or two. The only things that seem fresh after a few weeks are close observations and precisely described problems.
7. Trying to be avant-garde always falls apart whenever I consciously try to do it. But the avant-garde naturally arises whenever I try to capture my inner craziness.
8. I can only ever think about the next tiny step. Whenever the issue of whether I’m going to get this published comes up, I have an anxiety attack. There are so many things that need to be fixed before I can even get to that stage. I can only ever think about the next tiny step ahead of me.
9. It’s okay if I don’t get this published. I would love to, but finishing is more important than getting published.
10. Writing every morning is important. Even if it’s an awful, flat-footed sentence. I used to think that writing every day is optional, and it really isn’t. My novel has to be above 60,000 words. It is impossible to write that in some inspired burst one day. If I write 500 words a day - an optimistic number - it will take me 120 days to get to 60,000 words. Four months. Any non-writing days thrown in there simply makes the task that much more difficult.
11. Everything else gets thrown out the window. Exercise? Don’t have time. Tumblr? What’s that? Friends? I remember those! Thankfully I’m writing in the winter, so my non-writing options are limited.
12. My only real guideline is to keep things fun and exciting for myself. If I’m getting bored, I have a feeling my potential readers will too.
13. Consequently, when things are going well, this novel-writing thing is the best fucking thing in the world.