Hi friends,
We’ve all been there (or if you haven’t, good for you! we’re not jealous): Inspiration strikes. You have a Great Idea for a new novel or short story or whatever. And you can’t wait to get started. But not just yet. First you want to revel in the Great Idea. Enjoy thinking about it for a while, let it percolate, maybe do some preliminary research, and get yourself psyched up for how amazing this new project is going to be.
Then, finally, you sit down to write, but as you begin, you come up against your biggest obstacle: yourself. Your own limitations as a writer; your lack of knowledge about crucial elements of your story; your self-doubt; your realization, so total and inarguable, that this project looks nowhere near as awesome in your words as it did in your imagination.
So what do you do? Run screaming? Give up? Call a writer you admire and beg them to write it for you? This state of disappointment was exactly where I found myself this weekend, and I admit I seriously considered all these options. But after a few chocolate-and-peanut-butter-covered malt balls, I calmed down and reminded myself what I did the last fifty times this happened.
The way I tend to get through this kind of disappointment is not only to face my limitations but to embrace them. I have to remind myself that I did not become a writer to manifest perfection. I did it — and still do it — because there are issues and emotions and aspects of being alive in this body on this earth that I’m eager to explore. I want to push myself to new creative limits and see what I can accomplish. If I already had all the answers, if I knew exactly how to write the perfect novel, what, honestly, would be the point? What would I get out of it? Awards? Money? Fame?
Okay, those things could be nice, but the real joy and meaning in writing comes not from getting it right, but from the human connections it fosters, from sharing it with other writers and learning together how to get better at this weird thing we do, from teaching yourself new things about history or science or art, from humbling yourself to a process that often can’t be controlled, from allowing yourself the permission to make a mess because your need to follow your obsessions is bigger than your ego. Something inside you is urging you to work through something big, and you owe it to yourself to see where that takes you and your writing.
In the end, it still won’t be the novel or story of your imagination. It can’t be. But it will be the one you need. And if you need it, you can bet there are others out there who do too. So go ahead and run screaming — but run toward your project, and don’t stop running or screaming until you’ve made it all the way through. I think you’ll be glad you did.
Meanwhile, I look forward to next time.
Yours,
Jen
New-novel-blues busting
Every journey we take into our work, we need to leave bird-proof breadcrumbs that not only lead us out of the forest but guide us to safety in case we get lost in the dark. So easy to forget, as well as assume we’re the ONLY ones who suffer through it. Beautifully written reminder.