writing – Page 94 – Michael Seidel, writer

I’ve broken one of my cardinal writing rules. Two, actually.

I don’t usually allow others to read my novels in progress until I think of them as finished. But with a new novel underway, I wrote the beginning. Then I broke my second rule. I don’t talk about my writing other than mentioning progress or lack. I don’t talk with my friends and families about novels until they’re finished. But one of my beer drinking friends asked how my writing was going. Giving a mental shrug and doing a quality test on my second pint of beer, I shared the beginning of the new novel. Then, a whim later, I emailed it to several trusted friends.

All responded enthusiastically about what they read, so as I kept writing, I kept sending new installments as they were finished. I warned them it was raw and a lot of it might change. They didn’t care, encouraging me to keep sending, telling me that they were on the edge of their seats.

I know that they’re friends. Although all read in the genre in which I’m writing, they’re not objective. They might just be anxious not to hurt my feelings. And, as a pantser, I’m still in the fog, trying to understand where the muses ar leading me in this complicated story. (Note: all my novels are complicated. I enjoy reading complicated, and I like writing complicated.)

Objective or not, it was validating, even rewarding, to hear someone say how much they enjoy it. Otherwise, it’s just writing in the dark.

I was chatting with a writing friend this morning. Well, he’s a friend who is also a writer and was a pro editor working for one of the major publishers. He’d called to ask for help with a non-writing problem but we always talk of writing, editing, publishing, and books when we encounter one another in any venue.

I told him that the new novel is going fast. It seems and feels like an easy write. We chatted about the merits of fast or easy writing and and slow, meticulous writing. After hanging up and writing today, I realized how I’d misinterpreted my own writing process on the new book.

Yes, it is fast writing, but before I type out the words, there’s huge chunks of long, deep thoughts about where it’s at and where it’s going. As I began today, I wrestled with direction, because about a dozen volunteer plotpoints and character arcs have bloomed in my mind. I write fast because they have strong roots and I’m eager to cover them all. The session writing quickly turns immersive and intense. Regret washes through me when it’s over. So much remains to be written, it feels unfair that I must stop.

But, that’s the writing life.