This exciting and scary stage

I've drafted a novel; now what?

Hi friends,

There comes a time in the life of every long project when you know whether your initial spark of an idea has grown into a whole story. If so, it’s an exhilarating milestone but also a terrifying one. At least for me. Because this is when I have to confront not just whether I’ve been able to turn my idea into an entire book but also if it’s any good. Enter my newest novel—the queer Handmaid’s Tale meets 9 to 5.

Of course, everyone has to follow their own process, and for me every book seems to require its own too, but as usual, I share this with you in the hope that it will resonate and somehow be helpful (and also so you can share your thoughts with me!).

First, some quick background: For this novel, I started out with a broad concept. It was an idea for a speculative near future that would upend power dynamics and show us a better path forward for our country than I believe we’re currently on. I won’t divulge the details of that initial idea with you because the first thing my then-agent Trevor said about it was that it would make a lot of people very angry. And looking back, I see clearly that they were right.

But Trevor was also thoughtful enough not to shut my idea down entirely. Instead, they encouraged me to explore it from different angles, to write whatever I needed to in order to satisfy my curiosity, without worrying about publishing.

Trevor’s wonderful advice freed me up to explore and write without any fear of consequences, and it was exactly what I needed. Not only had I given myself the challenge of writing about a controversial topic, this is also the first story I’ve written that draws almost nothing from my own experiences. Plus, I’ve never written speculative fiction or multiple points of view before.

But where would be the pleasure in writing if I always did the same things?

At the fireworks show

I began slowly, by getting to know my characters, writing their lives from their own points of view, taking notes, and imagining their spectulative future. The story grew from there, as if they themselves were narrating it to me. Over the course of a year, I got to the end of a very rough draft. For most of the way through, however, I had no clue where the story was going, so it wasn’t until I finished it that I knew my idea could result in a whole book. It was exhilarating.

I shared the first hundred pages with two trusted readers to see if they felt there was anything there. As nerve-wracking as that was, the stakes still felt low. It was only the first third of the book. It was still an experiment. Plus, these readers are both friends and I trust them with my work and my heart. With their supportive feedback, I’ve been forging ahead, and recently I read my draft all the way through for the first time since I typed it up. I was shocked to find how satisfying the story felt.

So now that I have a decent first draft that actually reads like the solid structure of a novel, I’m elated, but I also need to deal with a few things. This is where the scary part comes in.

First, as happy as I am with how it’s going, there’s still disappointment that what I’ve created is nowhere near as good as I’d imagined it to be when I embarked on this project. I’ve shared this quote from George Saunders before, but it bears repeating:

It was as if I’d sent the hunting dog that was my talent out across the meadow to fetch a magnificent pheasant, and it had brought back, let’s say, the lower half of a Barbie doll. To put it another way, having gone about as high up Hemingway Mountain as I could go, having realized that even at my best, I could only ever hope to be an acolyte up there, resolving never again to commit the sin of being imitative, I stumbled back down into the valley and came upon a little shithill labeled Saunders Mountain. Hmm, I thought, it’s so little, and it’s a shithill. Then again, that was my name on it.

Second, three out of four of my main characters are “pleasure workers” in this spectulative reality, two of which are sex workers. Even though I’ve created a whole different world for them to live and work in, I still want to render them with dignity, respect, and accuracy by current, real standards. I’ve done my research, but I’ve also known how important it’s going to be to engage an authenticity reader.

Last week, as I created a reverse outline of my draft, I could see that it’s getting close to the perfect stage for an authenticity read, so I swallowed my fear and reached out to the person I’ve been most hopeful would read it. She said yes. Once again, I’m elated and terrified. This reader is a wonderful writer whose work I admire and a stranger that I’m engaging to judge the veracity and respectfulness of my work. For the first time, I’ll be sharing a full draft of this thing, and it needs to read like something I can imagine on a bookstore shelf someday.

To get ready, I’ve been identifying the most obvious problem areas and coming up with a revision plan. With a full outline in hand, I’m finally able to hold the whole story in my head at once, to see its shape and the shape I hope it can be. Once I let it go into this reader’s hands, I’ll have to accept that it may not be what I think it is. I’ve invited someone, a person I don’t know, into my story, specifically to tell me whether it needs significant revision or rethinking, or if the world I’ve build isn’t yet convincing. I have no idea what’s going to come back.

And yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The good news is that now that this story lives and breathes, I believe in it. I love the characters. I love their spirit and willingness to fight. They give me hope for the future. And I’m no longer worried about angering anyone—as long as I’m not doing it out of ignorance or unintended bigotry. In fact, part of my hope with this novel is that it will anger people, in a way that inspires action.

So here I go. I’ve given myself a month and a half to get this draft ready for my authenticity reader. Enough time to make necessary changes, but not so much that I can tinker endlessly or back out in fear. As I keep reminding myself, the point is to get a read on the characters and the world before I go too far down the revision hole.

Wherever you are with your projects, I’d love to hear how you face the stage where you’ve written the thing and you’re starting to think about getting it out into the world. What steps do you take? How do you deal with the fear (or the joy)?

Meanwhile, I look forward to next time.

Yours,

Jen