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Thursday, April 29, 2010

Getting Ahead of Myself









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For some time I have been turning an idea for a novel around and around in my head...

Oh, I know.  Who doesn't want to write a novel, right?  Nearly everyone who has luxuriated in the feel of taking pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and shaping the words out like clay has toyed with the idea of a novel.  Yes, I'm no different.  Blah blah.  Like all the rest of you, I was going to write a novel someday.  And sometimes I have started, but always I've stopped.

So, yesterday I started something new (again).  This idea that has been bouncing and turning around turned itself into an opening line, an opening scene.  And I wrote it down.  Scrawled and scribbled and scratched out some words on one side of a sheet of notebook paper.  (Old school!)  And I got excited, and then I started to panic.

I mean, what name am I going to publish it under?  My real name or MPJ?  What if I have to do media appearance?  How could I go on book tour as MPJ?  And won't my MPJ readers see the hidden bits I've stolen from my real life?  But if I write as Real Me, I don't get to talk about it with all of you and...

I have written one page.  One!  One really rough and unready page.  That's it.  But in my head, I'm already several thousand miles down the road.  In my mind, I've skipped over all the hard work of writing.  And rewriting.  And editing.  And running by writer friends.  And polishing.  And querying.  And rejection after rejection.  And rethinking.  And retooling.  And querying.  And more rejection.  But forget all that!  My mind has not only got the novel finished, it's got the agent, and the publisher, and the media appearances and book signings to worry about and maybe the movie deal, because it will be that good, of course.  Will David Letterman have me on his show?  Does he usually interview the authors when the movie is released?  Let's see if I can recall...

Seriously?  You think I'd have learned by now.  All that is craziness and fantasy and pain.  All that is what got me to a rock bottom crying on my bathroom floor seven years ago because my perfect life of fluffy, pink, marshmallow cloud wonderfulness had dissipated and left me falling, like the cartoon character who looks down and realizes he's not running, but hanging in the air over a ravine.  All that is pushing a hammer higher and higher to try to escape its inevitable fall.

What's good and real is what is right here, right now.  The hammer is lying on the ground as long as I don't pick it up, and I can't fall from those clouds when I'm sitting on the ground too.  I had fun writing a page of words.  That's all.  And that's all I need.
Posted by at 3:24 AM
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9 comments:

  1. Hey, one page! That's brilliant!! Go you!!!

    (And, I probably shouldn't say this, but: 1 page x 365 days in a year = 1 novel. Eventually. But many days of that year you will go through exactly the same process you just described above. Why do you think so many novelists are addicts? ;o)
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  2. I struggle with this when I think about my practice in the future. Right now my school life is separate from my "real" life so to speak. Everyone in my classes knows Alex is an addict and they all know thats the reason I am in this field. but eventually I am going to get a job and have my own practice. My own practice with a website. A website that says to my clients, I know your pain, your trials, and your tribulations. That same website says to my family and friends, I've been there, I've done that, and I kept it all a secret from you. What will they think?

    Thanks for sharing, Its nice to know someone else can relate :)
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  3. Just to add. I would totally buy a book about sex addiction from a wife who wants to protect her family and not go on a book tour. :) If that's what the book is about, I think your target audience would be completely understanding
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  4. Just write and not worry about the other stuff. Writing just to be writing for the sheer joy of it. No expectations but just real stuff.
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  5. Any time there is a lie in your life, it's like having an unseen person leaning over your shoulder--all the time. At least that is how it felt to me when I was living one. It was nerve-racking and it grew worse instead of better. Keeping up with the deception felt, at times, worse than the lie itself.

    My reasons for the lie were excellent, noble even; but that didn't stop it from being...hard, painfully hard. But here's the thing, I'm on the other side of the lie now and I still don't see what other choice I could have made. I expect you will be the same someday.

    That was depressing huh? Sorry. On an upbeat note, Writer's Village has a free, 6 week long fiction writing class that begins in July. The exercises are challenging and the other students--from around the world--are uplifting. You pick the user name of your choice--you can be any name you wish. If you're interested in getting your fiction legs a bit wetter, this class would be a great close-to-the-shore experience. Best, best wishes on your novel dream.
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  7. I like what Syd said - just write and you can figure the rest out later!

    P.S. I would definitely publish your novel, and I wouldn't require you to go on a book tour! :)
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  8. I know those feelings...I have fantasized about writing a memoir or autobiographical novel and then start running those worries about privacy, book tours, etc. in my head. Last year I took a fiction writing class and the instructor said to not even think about publishing but just write the story that you need to write. You will feel it, as you do right now - that burning need to tell your story. It sounds hokey but the rest is supposed to take care of itself.

    I agree, 1 page a day = a novel after a year, even if you take a day off here and there! Good luck!
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  9. My first attempt at NaNoWriMo was derailed by my need to compulsively polish my query letter. After completing 10,000 words of a first draft.

    My first non-NaNoWriMo attempt at a novel was derailed by my need to find the perfect notebook for planning, the perfect floorplan for the perfect house in the perfect real neighborhood for my characters, etc.

    Letting go of all that - by which I mean letting go of the fear to try and, perhaps, to fail - is the hard part.
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