Writing My Debut Novel
It started with desire. An unyielding and unquenchable thirst. I have daydreamed about writing a novel all my adult life. In the shower, on long car trips, waiting in lines – my brain wanders to storytelling. I hate to think of the expressions on my face in the real world, while I’m busy exploring my imagined ones.
When I raised the idea of writing a book to my partner, it felt like blurting out a secret I had held in for an eternity. I was afraid if I said it out loud, people would laugh. I envisaged how the conversations would go, “What do you mean, you want to write a book? You’re not even articulate!”. So consumed with self-doubt, I unfairly put my negative narrative into people’s mouths in my imagined dialogue.
It wasn’t that I needed my partner’s permission to write, but I wanted his blessing. He never laughed at me. To my delight, he encouraged me to take as much time as I needed. His support in this pursuit of finishing my novel has been crucial.
For months I sporadically tapped on my keyboard and produced a sixty-thousand-word memoir that will not be published. I sent that manuscript to Laneway Press who provided options for me to work with them to publish a fictional novel. My professional career has been in nursing and with no experience writing or working in publishing, I decided to opt for coaching from them. That process proved invaluable.
They encouraged me to start with clear visions of my characters and a classic three act structure in mind. I started in September 2021. Each week I endeavored to complete a few scenes to send to Laneway Press and eagerly awaited their feedback. This came in Word Comments, so it was easy to see the exact content Liz Harrington and Regina Lane were referring to. Liz sometimes wanted me to flesh out scenes or advised what I could cut back on. Her mantras were consistent: “Don’t info-dump”, and “Show - don’t tell”.
I was encouraged to self-edit using their feedback weekly. It was difficult to be disciplined to edit consistently because I just wanted to crack on telling the story. But I remained diligent to the process and edited my previous scenes before writing any new ones. I am so thankful I did. If I had waited to write it all out and then commence self-editing one hundred and thirty thousand words… overwhelmed would be an understatement.
My writing days generally started with rallying the children and readying them for school. After school drop, I walked my dog, showered, poured a coffee and sat at my computer. I like to type at the dining table, near a bright window. A calming view can be as beneficial as therapy.
As I wrote, I concentrated on pushing any negativity from my brain and let whatever came to me flow out onto the page. Second guessing could be left for later. Regular stretches and herbal teas were a must. I would happily sip on coffee all day, but my fingers shaking on the keyboard are not conducive to good work. Herbal teas get me through long stints and have become part of my routine. I found a brand that follows the day in one box. The morning: an energizing blend, revitalizing for afternoon, an after-dinner mix and a bedtime tea. I treated them as little rewards for time spent.
I endeavored to write as much as possible when my children were at school. Every fortnight, I looked forward to a zoom call to discuss the progress with the Regina and Liz. Weeks turned into months. Regina was happy with the pace of my progression so put a deadline of the end of January to complete my first draft. I had to be strict and detested the many early alarms as my deadline approached. I pushed hard and made my deadline.
When I finally typed, ‘The End’, I was awash with emotion. I wanted to scream, cry and skip all at once. So much joy and yet sadness overwhelmed me too. So thrilled to have reached the end and yet grieving putting my characters to rest. Little did I know the real work was about to start.
Getting back my structural edit felt like a red pen to the heart. I knew we had to cull about thirty thousand words. But receiving the work with red lines through entire scenes was harder than expected. I took some time to grieve my lost words before pulling myself together and forcibly looking at the work with limited emotion. Regardless of how well something was reading or how proud I was of some imagery, if it was not progressing the plot – it had to go. Thinking of it that way, I surprised myself to find hitting the delete button on huge sections quite gratifying.
The manuscript bounced back and forth for longer than it took for me to complete my first draft. Edit and check after check, we finally got the manuscript to a place where we were all happy with it. Then came the fun part. Picking from the cover designs, agreeing on a title and writing a dedication and acknowledgements. So, you see…the whole process only took one year. Well… that and twenty dreaming. I hope you enjoy reading it.
Now, to the next.