So that novel that I mentioned I'd be starting? It's certainly not going as planned - on several different counts. The story hasn't turned out quite how I anticipated (which is part of the writing process), and my ability to keep up with the required word count has also not quite gone how I envisioned. Life and all of its chaos and complications have gotten in the way, and that seems to be frowned upon in the NaNoWriMo universe. I keep receiving pep talk after pep talk via email encouraging me to let laundry and self-care fall by the wayside in favor of churning out words. Once I realized that I actually felt better when the laundry was done, I decided to let go of the expectations placed upon me (or that I submitted to when I signed up for the project)...
My novel also kind of freaked me out. In an attempt to write with an authentic voice in a limited amount of time (read: can't do extensive research, or any research at all, really), I drew heavily from my own experience. The narrator's voice became difficult to separate from my own, and I got uncomfortable. When she did things that I do on a regular basis, I analyzed them too closely. When I wanted to make her do something I wouldn't do or haven't done, I felt like I was betraying... someone? myself? the character? Writing became draining instead of enlivening, exhausting on a deeply personal level - not just tired from cranking out words.
And so I have decided to put the novel aside. November is a crazy month, and this November particularly is perhaps too crazy for me to embark on this endeavor. Retaining whatever semblance of sanity I have is more important to me right now. So maybe I will go back to this novel at a different time. Maybe January or April will be a time for me to start a novel with a different angle - one that allows me to have enough distance from the narrator that I will be able to really appreciate the process of creating a unique voice.
Plus, I have really missed getting to write here, in this space. And somehow, whoever is next on that list of authors that I scribbled down so long ago seems to pop up with unbelievable timeliness. This time is no exception: Flannery O'Connor holds the #9 position. The connection between O'Connor and my own novel-writing-angst is so peripheral: my own inability to extract myself from the pages of my story stands in stark contrast to O'Connor's insistence that her work not be interpreted in light of her own biography. As much as I see writing as an artistic extension of self that requires vulnerability, O'Connor reminds me that the art also stands on its own. I don't have to force myself to write about those things that are most personal to me, but I do have to be brave enough to stand up to those themes if they do come up in the story. Writing requires vulnerability, but it doesn't have to be self-flagellating to be art.
O'Connor also was my first real introduction to Southern literature (because I for sure don't count the cursory reading of Faulkner in my sophomore year of high school), which actually happened in the South from a Southern professor - absolutely fantastic! - and the first author who showed me the depth and expansiveness possible in short stories. And she - not unlike Kingsolver and Lamott - found the sacred in the gritty and sometimes gruesome moments that punctuate human life. Every word in her stories holds meaning, and her stories demand returning to them again and again.
I've spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out how to connect O'Connor back to my novel writing disaster (because blog posts are supposed to be somewhat cohesive, right?). It's funny how even writing the smallest piece brings you to places you didn't necessarily anticipate going. I didn't see this month ending without a finished novel, and I hadn't planned on re-reading the stories in A Good Man is Hard to Find before Thanksgiving - but I think I'm pretty glad about how plans have changed.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
A Potentially Stupid Adventure (or, Anne Lamott and Novel-Writing)
The timing is impeccable that I have landed on #8 on my list of most influential authors today. See, I'm embarking on a strange journey for the month of November, one that might take me away from this blog a bit more than I had anticipated. I have signed up for National Novel Writing Month, a crazy project in which would-be writers across the country agree to each write a 50,000-word novel between November 1 and November 30. I first heard about this project a few years ago when I was still in school, and there was no way I would be able to complete such an endeavor while also doing marginally well on my assignments and papers. So I put it off. And now I'm not in school and can't find any other reason to justify not trying this out, so there it is. (I know, I'm so enthusiastic, right?)
So back to the list... #8 is Anne Lamott, perhaps most well known for her collections of autobiographical essays, like Traveling Mercies and Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. I read Traveling Mercies in college, and am still hard pressed to find someone more authentic and genuine about their faith journey. It also really helps that she is laugh-out-loud hysterical. She's super self-depricating, but not at the expense of self-worth - she gives herself and her faith credit for the good moments, the peaceful moments when clarity shines in through the cracks.
Lamott also wrote a book called Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. It's a bit older than her more famous books, and chronicles lessons learned by Lamott as she has navigated the world of writing, editing and publishing. I kind of got hungry to get through every book Lamott had written, and this one somehow landed on my plate. By the time I finished the book, I found that being a writer wasn't something that someone decides on, but rather something one can't help but be. And even though there's something of a sense of calling in being a writer, which invokes all kinds of associations of inspiration and providence, there are things that can and probably should be done to cultivate the writing life. Things like - writing lots and lots of first drafts and not getting mad at yourself when they are crappy, being willing to let go of the ideal of publication, and taking small bites (going "bird by bird" instead of trying to cover the whole flock).
Somehow I've ended up trying to write a novel. And I know that the point of writing a novel in 30 days is to write A Novel in 30 days, not to write The Best Novel That's Ever Been Written in 30 days. Whenever I tell Beau that what I've got so far is not good, he says, "That's not the point. The point is that it is, not that it's good." So if I'm a bit less bloggy in the next month, it's because I'm trying to crank out 1,667 words every day to make my goal. And even if nobody ever reads it but me (which will most likely be the case!), I'm still going to do it, bird by bird.
So back to the list... #8 is Anne Lamott, perhaps most well known for her collections of autobiographical essays, like Traveling Mercies and Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. I read Traveling Mercies in college, and am still hard pressed to find someone more authentic and genuine about their faith journey. It also really helps that she is laugh-out-loud hysterical. She's super self-depricating, but not at the expense of self-worth - she gives herself and her faith credit for the good moments, the peaceful moments when clarity shines in through the cracks.
Lamott also wrote a book called Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. It's a bit older than her more famous books, and chronicles lessons learned by Lamott as she has navigated the world of writing, editing and publishing. I kind of got hungry to get through every book Lamott had written, and this one somehow landed on my plate. By the time I finished the book, I found that being a writer wasn't something that someone decides on, but rather something one can't help but be. And even though there's something of a sense of calling in being a writer, which invokes all kinds of associations of inspiration and providence, there are things that can and probably should be done to cultivate the writing life. Things like - writing lots and lots of first drafts and not getting mad at yourself when they are crappy, being willing to let go of the ideal of publication, and taking small bites (going "bird by bird" instead of trying to cover the whole flock).
Somehow I've ended up trying to write a novel. And I know that the point of writing a novel in 30 days is to write A Novel in 30 days, not to write The Best Novel That's Ever Been Written in 30 days. Whenever I tell Beau that what I've got so far is not good, he says, "That's not the point. The point is that it is, not that it's good." So if I'm a bit less bloggy in the next month, it's because I'm trying to crank out 1,667 words every day to make my goal. And even if nobody ever reads it but me (which will most likely be the case!), I'm still going to do it, bird by bird.
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