I recently stumbled across some posts I wrote when I was on my first draft of Eve’s Covering. I even created a website called A Novel Endeavor to document my writing journey. If you’re wondering why you never heard about it-it’s because I never hit the “publish” button. I guess I was afraid I’d never finish…
Flashback post:
“I’m writing a novel.”
How many times have you heard that one and think… “Sure you are! I’ll wait until it comes out on paperback,” … and move on.
If you ask me why I write, I can only say that I love it. Where did this love come from? What passion drove me to scribble rhymes in a history notebook or put the effort into typing up plays? For me it started with a pile of books and a sister’s love. In second grade I shared a bed on a shiny green pull-out couch with my sister, Sharon, while she was home on leave from the Army. It made for a terrible night’s sleep, but I remember it as one of the best experiences of my childhood because I got to share something with my big sister, who was eleven years older than me. While I snuggled down into the folds of grandma’s crazy quilt, she would read to me in a voice so full of animation that I could practically see all the characters and feel like I was truly a witness in their exploits. I always tried to stay awake, but inevitably fell asleep long before I discovered the secrets the characters promised to reveal.
I fell in love with horses because of Black Beauty and still get a lump in my throat when I think about Big Dan and Little Ann in Where the Red Fern Grows. I am still looking, however, for a copy of A Nickle’s Worth of Skimmed Milk so that I can relive the story that has faded from my mind and was one of Sharon’s favorites. From this love of sharing adventures, I began to tell stories of my own. Somewhere, packed away in the old red garage, is my first attempt at story telling. Sharon patiently listened and wrote down every word about a curious little puppy on lined notebook paper bound together with frayed orange yarn. Somehow, among those pages, a writer was born.
As I mentioned before, I have begun writing “my novel” numerous times. My first attempt was a very dark and gothic one. It ended up, however, being very therapeutic for me and helped me relive and deal with traumatic events that happened in my childhood and teenage years. My process consisted of a flow chart of events broken down into ten equal chapters. It opened with my dead mother reaching out to me in my dreams. In truth my mother wasn’t dead. It was the symbol for the deep hurt that consumed her from the betrayal of dear friends. After one hundred pages, however, with my protagonist in the deep peril that a good one must endure, I slowed my pace, finally stopping altogether.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to that story that burned within my heart at the very beginning of chapter one. Why didn’t I complete the flowchart where the heroine escapes at the end with her life, marries her knight in shining armor, and adopts the child she finds hiding in a barn, the three of them living happily ever after? In my defense, during this time I had two children of my own, homeschooled, and was very involved in my church and community. In part, I believe that lack of time contributed to this phenomenon, but mostly it had to do with some deeply rooted emotion kept hidden from the world. It seethed and smoldered, painfully tormenting me in my dreams until I took action. But then I picked up a simple object… a pen and started telling a story. It wasn’t a memoir. I could never endure the complete revelation of my past, but taking bits and pieces of it and creating and controlling a similar storyline is tremendously fulfilling. For me, it was an act of Plato’s catharsis. With my ending planned I subconsciously had written enough. It was then that I simply stopped.
Why is writing a novel so difficult? Why is it such a big deal? Well, probably because it is so difficult that few attempt such a feat and those who do, like me, often quit midstream, or mid-manuscript I should say! In days gone by writers had to physically touch the paper to transform it into something comprehensible. Now, with technology making it so simple that one can compose anywhere, albeit a café or Dr.’s office, on a tablet or phone, it should be relatively easy to create the great American novel. Right? Well, coming up with an interesting and unique idea and plot along with memorable characters and meaningful themes that haven’t already been written about is, to put it simply, hard. Who can compare their efforts in story telling with those of Homer, Shakespeare, or more recently, Dekker?
Why put in the effort if we can’t compete with those that came before us? I would beg to argue that everyone has a story. Everyone has a message. More importantly, I have a message – you have a message. Something we are passionate about. Something to make the world a better place if our voices could somehow be heard over the cacophony of opinions and ideas vying for attention. Pen and ink are mighty instruments, able to inspire philosophies, incite revolutions, and arouse the most timid of dispositions to love or to hate.
So, on that note… I’m starting my book again and I plan on finishing it this time. Call me naïve or call me brave, I am going to give it my best effort. I must have completed three in my head by now, over a twenty- year period. All I have to show for it is a manila envelope stuffed with typed written papers along with scribbled notes left on dinner napkins, wire ringed notebooks, and the new beginnings of scene compilation on something called Scrivener.
What is going to make this time different? This is the question that haunts my most recent novel endeavor. My answer is two-fold. First, I am dedicating my novel to my sister, Sharon, who lost her battle with cancer a few years ago. Second, I am offering an invitation challenging you to pick up your pen… or computer or whatever it is you use to record your thoughts and embark on this writing journey with me. Let us be brave in our attempt. Let our voices be heard.
Present:
November is National Novel Writing Month and I’m thrilled to announce that I’m knee-deep into the sequel to Eve’s Covering. My challenge still stands. Join me in my novel endeavor. Who knows… we may just change the world together.
