The 5 stages of Novel Writing
Or, how I approached my new novel in 2021
Reading time: 6 min
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Disclaimer
This article’s structure is just a play with words, I’m not comparing writing a novel to the actual grieving process.
If you’re struggling, please seek help. As John Donne said: No man is an island.
Intro
In 2018, I finished the last piece of fiction in Italian I would write; a novel titled “Infedele,” which meant a lot to me. I then used the following year to switch languages, trying to learn how to write in English and, believe me, it’s not been easy. After a painful but marvellously interesting twelve months, I decided to approach a longer project, and I used most of 2020 to write a story for a podcast (which I hope to publish this year) called “For The Sake Of The Island,” a classic horror expanded from a published short story I had written back in Italy.
2021, on the other hand, started without a major project. I had time to polish a few short stories and learn more about the craft of writing, yes, but I was yearning for a new novel I could fall in love with.
You could say that, in a sense, I was grieving the absence of a worthwhile big commitment; something that would last for months, or years, and that required tons of research, frustration, euphoria, self-doubt and courage.
One day I woke up with an idea for another short story, and when I finished it, what I had was a 4,500 words first chapter instead.
Denial
This new project—horror too, but charged with mystery, supernatural stuff and a deep underlying theme—seemed perfect. I would wake up every day with a new idea and I would write for hours during the weekend, following my characters in whatever direction they wanted to go.
What I hadn’t realised just yet, was that I’m definitely not a pantser, (like Stephen King is) and sooner or later I would run out of steam and I would burn out trying to follow a story that simply wasn’t there.
I reached that point quite early, but surprisingly, I kept going for another 20 or 25,000 words before I really hit a wall. I kept telling myself that professionals put in the hours even when it’s hard, but in reality, I was in denial.
This project had wings, but no legs to land anywhere, and I refused to acknowledge it for months and months, until the summer came and something else distracted me.
Anger
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My expectations for this novel were way, way too high. I wanted this to be my first book published in English so badly that writing became a chore. And what is worse, when I stepped back and looked at the story, re-reading it to find a thread to follow, I realised it had become something I didn’t want it to.
The beautifully deep and promising first chapters had given way to a pulp with no sense of humanity, like an action movie, but with cheap special effects.
I was angry, and I didn’t know how to solve this.
Bargaining
Because I didn’t know what to do, I decided to be wise and did nothing. I put aside the novel and embarked on a totally new adventure; the Flash Fiction Month 2021, (A marvellously and unforgettable experience, by the way. I’ll talk more about it in another article) which brought me to write a piece of flash fiction a day for the entire month of July (read all the stories here.)
This was good for me. I needed a pause, but I still thought I would pick up the novel and finish it, in August, almost like a blessing.
It didn’t happen, but I was bargaining with the God of Creative Writing, so, what I kept telling myself was: “at least I’m writing.”
This trend remained for the month of August as well, when I attended an amazing course on Litreactor’s platform, taught by the amazing J S Breukelaar and called “Writing the Weird,” highly suggested.
At least I was learning, right?
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Depression
After July and August, I was 31 flash pieces and a short story richer, but I had lost direction. Two months of looking away had done nothing for my novel, and trying to pick up the pieces of a project with no future I fell into despair.
I tried to destroy the story and remake it into something new. I tried to copy plots of movies, books, fairytales I liked, to see if I could fit what I had done into an existing shape.
I was desperate to get to the end of it; I felt the urgency of having a finished book ready to go to publishers because it wouldn’t be long before my baby would arrive and I didn’t want to push the pause button on my dream because of sleep deprivation.
Thank God I’ve got a wonderful wife, and her continuous support throughout her third trimester of pregnancy was fundamental for me to move on—yes, she supported me. Can you believe it?
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“Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot if difference. They don’t have to makes speeches. Just believing is usually enough.”
Acceptance
My depression stage (I wasn’t really depressed, just bummed for my writing career) went through the entirety of September and spilled over the better part of October. I still wanted to get going with my original project, and I was ready to go all the way back to denial in order to pick it up for NaNoWriMo, but then, during a long stroll in the forest with my wife, I decided to change direction.
The 46,000 words of my novel will be there after the baby arrives and will be there after the baby goes to college if I don’t want to get on them before. Maybe a future me will have more luck with that project, but I finally understood and accepted that it won’t be finished, at least for now.
Instead, I started November with a new project, absolutely zero expectation and, guess what? I’m already 31,000 words in and rarely have I had so much fun writing something.
Conclusion
2021 was actually a year full of joy for me, and I’ll never be grateful enough for what happened in the cosy world of my household.
Trying to write quickly and, maybe, getting noticed by an agent in a hurry was not a totally bad idea. On the contrary, it allowed me to understand a lot more about what I want as a writer and who I am creatively, and while you can stick a deadline to a project, you shouldn’t force any limits to your dream.
Alla prossima
