For the past few weeks, I’ve been struggling a little with this next book I’m writing in the Road to Hope series. As you recall, I wrote the second book during November (for NaNoWriMo), and realized there was so much more to the story I was telling. I ended the second book with a brilliant idea for the third, and I couldn’t wait to get started to write.
Once Dec. 1 came, I eagerly sat down to start writing the third book. In my mind, the beginning and the ending of the story were incredibly clear. The middle was a bit fuzzy, but the themes I wanted to convey were there. All I had to do was write them out and the rest would figure itself out.
The first part of the story, the part that was clear, I had no issue writing at all. I got it all down, re-read it a few times, and was pleased with how it turned out. I moved into the next part of the story, ready to keep going. Only thing is, I didn’t know where I was going. Correction. I knew the destination, but I didn’t know how I was getting there.
Here is where fear began to creep in. I’ve done this before. There have been times when I’ve been struck by a book idea that’s so strong it takes my breath away. I’ll feel this tug at my soul until I sit down and start writing it out. But when I do sit down, the story just falls apart. While the theme of the story is calling out to me, the pieces of the story are hidden in places I can’t find. I’ll end up losing momentum, and the novel inside me will just evaporate into thin air.
I did not want this to happen with this story! And yet, a week passed and I hadn’t written a word. Then the second week passed. I tried to be gentle with myself. I just finished writing the first novel! It’s okay to take a small break before diving in again. However, I was also panicked that this next novel, the one with themes I HAVE to write, would evaporate with the rest of them, and I’d be left with only part of the story told.
Here’s the thing about writing a novel—you can’t bank a whole book on just an idea. You have to have a plan. I knew I needed to sit down with this story idea and figure out where it was going. And so I did. And when I did, it became clear that I was not just stalling because the story was hard, I was stalling because the themes I was introducing are an uncomfortable part of me. This next book is diving into some truths I’m telling through fiction. This is scary to me! I’m excited to write these parts and get them outside of me. But I’m also terrified of writing these because it means I’ll have to revisit a few horrible moments from my personal past to get them down. This book will be as revealing as it can be without making it a memoir.
The past few days I’ve worked out the storyline. In this, the journey my characters are on have become etched in my mind. I can now see their journey in a three-dimensional way. The characters are real, with real faces and personalities. Where they are is a real place. The bones of the story are there, now my job is to give it flesh.
In the meantime, the story and all its characters are consuming me. This is my favorite part of being a novelist. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing, the story is exploding inside of me. I can see it as I’m driving to work, when I’m hanging out with friend, and before I go to sleep at night. When I wake up, the characters are right there with me, ready for me to tell my story.
I heard Marianne Williamson recently describe this feeling as being pregnant with a book. You guys, I’m at that cute baby belly stage of book pregnancy. I can feel it kicking, and I have so many plans for it.
Winter break just started with school (one last final on Tuesday). I have 30 days until I start my next class. It’s the perfect time to start and finish the third installment of the Road to Hope series. I can’t even describe how elated I am about writing this story.