ON LETTING GO
There’s a mantra we live by in the writing world that is both a necessity, and a curse. Write the next book.
It’s a necessity because publishing is a harsh, fickle business, and love isn’t enough to sell books.
But it’s also a curse because it minimises the work we do to write books in the first place. Or the toll every part of the publishing pipeline takes on authors.
So here’s the thing about me: I struggle to let go and write the next book.
I struggle to do most book related things, really, so maybe it’s a me problem, but as a slow writer, drafting a book takes me anything between 9-12 months. So a year, give or take. Not including revisions.
It’s not the longest time — people spend longer on books, I know that — but it is a long time. A long time to persist and toil and sacrifice. A long time in which to get attached.
By the time I finish a book, I am all in on my world and characters. I have to be or I wouldn’t get to the end.
Which isn’t me saying that writers who draft fast don’t love their books in the same way, or aren’t as passionate. I’m not. All I’m saying is that at least writing faster shortens the tunnel.
If a book of mine stalls, or strikes out in the trenches, or dies on sub, it’s hard for me to think about the next book. The next book may still be 9+ months away from even being viable. And at the same time, I’m grieving the loss of characters I’ve lived with for 12-16 months.
It’s not easy. It is necessary, but it’s not easy. And sometimes it feels like we forget that when we tell writers to just write the next book. To pour out the next piece of their heart in the hopes that THIS ONE will sell.
Like it’s simple.
There’s not much purpose to this post, by the way, so if you hoped for one, I’m sorry. And if you hoped for my regular brand of humour, well, I’m sorry about that too, but I’m all out of jokes today.
And don’t get me wrong, I know why this is the way things are. I know they’re not likely to change anytime soon. That we all just need to write the next book. That’s the game.
But I guess I’m writing this to say: if you’re sad, I see you. If you’re struggling, I see you. If you’re wondering why the rest of the writing world seems to be able to let go and you can’t: I see you. If you’re scared that one day you’ll run out of pieces of yourself to give; I see you.
Because writing the next book can be devastating. And I don’t think we say that enough.