I spend a lot of time thinking about this crazy idea I have about writing a novel. Thinking about how many hours I’ve put into writing all of the different drafts… and how many more hours I have left to go before I have anything resembling a novel that can be pitched to literary agents and publishing houses. I think about the tiny percentage of aspiring novelists who get their work published by big-name publishers and the even tinier percentage that makes a name for themselves in the book world.
Of course, if you’re going to write a novel, you can’t think of those numbers. Because that’s not the point, is it? The point isn’t to become famous and see my novel on every bookstore’s bestseller table. The point is that there is nothing more natural, nothing more essential, nothing more exciting than writing. To write is to live. To write is to breathe. To write is to know who I am.
So who am I if I do not write? If I close that document on my Google Drive, and I pack it away in a file folder within a file folder within a file folder. If I tell myself I don’t have to do this to myself anymore. I don’t have to write or think about characters or brainstorm about plot.
Who am I if I decide that this dream I’ve had since I was a little girl and filling up notebooks with book ideas… was just the dream of a little girl? Not the dream of a grown-up.
I’ve been trying to find the motivation to work on my novel for the better part of this year. I just have no desire to sit down with these characters or plot out the story. I’ve tried not to be too hard on myself because the pandemic has halted many creative pursuits. It’s hard to focus on writing a silly romance when I’m deeply concerned about the fate of our nation. Back in March, my writing partner and I moved to Zoom for our weekly, two-hour writing dates. Sometimes I’d work on my novel, but more often than not, I’d use that time to work on blog posts or answer emails.
I started rewriting my plot sometime over the summer. Or maybe it was even earlier than that. I had written a good chunk of the novel (most of it during NaNoWriMo 2019) and wrote myself into a corner. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to take the novel. So I went back to the drawing board with the plan of getting my plot in tip-top shape for NaNoWriMo 2020.
But I wasn’t doing that. I wasn’t working on my novel. I always found something else to do: books to read, blog posts to write, emails to answer, blogs to engage with, cats to play with, TV shows to watch. And if you think I didn’t beat myself up for not having the motivation to sit down at my computer every night to work on my novel, you don’t know me. I was frustrated with myself. I talked to myself the way I would an enemy. “You must not want this badly enough if you’re not willing to put in the work, you lazy piece of shit. You think other writers moan and groan about having “motivation”? No. They just do the goddamn work.”
Hi, my name is Stephany and I suck at positive self-talk.
Right around the time I was having these pleasant conversations with myself, I read a blog post that gently encouraged me to look at all the different facets of my life and consider their value. What is adding value, what is taking it away? What feels good when I do it, and what doesn’t? What brings me deep, abiding pleasure?
These simple questions unlocked a torrent of emotions. It made me take a good, hard look at the why behind my lack of motivation with my novel. I considered what it might mean, what it might say about me, if I gave up my dream of writing a novel.
How would it reframe the way I saw myself, the way I set up my life? Would it open up space in my creative life to consider other pursuits—growing my blog or pitching articles to publications or starting a podcast?
Would it make me feel like a failure, as if I was giving up on myself just because it felt hard?
Or maybe I don’t have to attach any meaning to this decision. It could just be… a decision I made at this point in my life, a decision I can revisit whenever I want. Imagine that!
A few weeks after deciding I wasn’t going to participate in NaNoWriMo and shelving away my story for the time being, my mind wouldn’t let me sleep. It was working overtime as a story idea—a previous one from a long ago time—jumped into my brain. I started daydreaming about this story, parsing through the characters and their motivations and the plot.
It was the first time in many months, maybe even years, that I’ve felt that sort of creativity pulsing through me.
It was electric. I forgot about that fire you feel when your mind is ablaze with creativity, and you can’t stop it from spreading if you try.
It got me excited about writing again.
I haven’t done anything about this new spark. I’m simply letting it burn through me. It lights up and it simmers, and I’m enjoying the simple delight that comes with a new idea that could transform into something so much more.
Maybe this story is the one. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s simply there to remind me that writing a novel is my destiny, and it’s okay if takes me a while to get there.
This post made me tear up. I think you have it exactly right.
That is great that you are feeling some inspiration to get back to work. If it ebbs and you don’t find the motivation – don’t beat yourself up. I know that is easier said than done. But we have to constantly reassess what is bringing us value/worth our time. I have been thinking deeply about that in regards to social media. I went off FB/IG for November and am debating whether I want to go back on at all. I will take it month by month but I question the value it brings to my life. Are my interactions meaningful? Is it a good use of time? Does it make me feel better about myself/our world? Right now the answers to those questions are no… maybe I will change my mind. But we’ll see…
Well this was really relatable. The whole pandemic/general state of the world thing has also had a big impact on my…well, a lot of areas of life, including but especially my creativity. In my case, I think it has a lot to do with my work — especially at the height of everything, there were days where I just could not imagine coming home from the day job and trying to write. So…I didn’t. For a long time. And it was hard, especially since “writer” is something I’ve clung to as an identity for a long time but I think it was necessary. But I do think it’s made me at least a little more excited about creating again. So…there’s that.
Anyway, all that to say I’m glad that you’re feeling inspired again. You’re absolutely right re: it being OK if it takes some time to get where you’re going — I think it can be hard to really accept that in the world we live in right now where everything is so fast paced but I really do believe that it’s OK to take your time.
Rooting for you, girl!
The whole time I was reading this I was thinking… maybe you just need a break from this story! Because if I know what thing about you, it’s what you said – writing = living. You will write a novel. And who knows what story it will be? But you will, and you will have excited moments and moments you hate it and even maybe get sick of it. That’s gotta be normal for writers, right?
I believe in you! <3
And hells yeah this pandemic has effed us up, especially our creativity. My brain has been on some strange lockdown since August and I sound reallllly dumb when I speak. Eh, whatever 😉
Girl. I feel you so hard on this. I am not attempting to write a novel (I like the idea but I don’t think I am cut out for that), but I felt the same way about my creative pursuits. This year just was so distracting in so many ways. I am glad you finally let yourself decide to shelf the story and put it away… because it made room for new ideas and a new spark! I love it. I mean, this is how this usually goes, but it’s still hard to “go through”…. I am excited for you. It’s amazing to feel that creative spark come back.
Writing is SO clearly your passion – and I know you will find a way to write. But sometimes, I think, we need to step away from what we think we should be doing, and just… take a break. I did that – stopped doing my own research, and convinced myself it “wasn’t for me”. It took doing that – for over 2 years! – for me to realize that, hey, research IS my passion and what I need to do. So give yourself time, and grace. And I second what Kim said – you ARE a writer, but maybe you just don’t want to write that particular novel! I hope you have FUN with your new idea!!!
Have you ever considered writing a memoir/biography? Your blog posts about your childhood and family always fascinate and engage me. Obviously, I wish you hadn’t had to experience some of the heartaches you describe. But I think you have a real gift for writing about your life experiences. Just a thought, I know they always say, “write what you know.”