For this post, I wanted to write about something which I don’t think I’ve ever addressed, which is my experience thus far creating my first novel. I have a couple of reasons for wanting to compose a post that has nothing at all to do with charts or the markets: (1) the past couple of weeks have been absolutely brutal, and frankly I’d rather write about ANYTHING else at the moment than the freakin’ stock market (2) it’s a fun way for me to self-examine my experience with this very new adventure of mine.
As a reminder, I’ve been writing all my life – – for national magazines at age 15, my first book at age 16, and dozens of books after that. And, of course, tens of thousands (literally) of posts here on Slope. Yet although I’ve written for many decades, I’ve never tried a piece of fiction. Instead of starting off sensibly, like with a short story, I instead threw caution to the wind and am trying to write The Great American Novel.
As I’ve mentioned before, the real conceit of this whole thing is that I’ve never been a fiction reader. Ever! So I might as well be writing a book about the challenges and joys of pregnancy. All the same, I am doing my best with this, and I’m actually pretty satisfied with how it has been going, now that I’ve finished up seven chapters.
As a writer, the most curious thing about this experience is how much trouble I have to go through in order to seduce myself into writing. See, I’m not a lazy person. I’m actually pretty industrious, and I cheerfully work 365 days of the year, if I can get away with it.
But when it comes to this piece, Good Lord, I’m a completely layabout. I have to be in just the right mood. I have to feel inspired. I have to prod myself into getting started. And, every time I finally get started, things really kick in and start flowing, and I have an absolute ball with it. So the majority of the work is just chastising myself into sitting my ass down and actually getting to goddamned work instead of finding anything else – – from sorting socks on up – – to do.
One side effect of writing this thing has been, for lack of a better way to put it, a big improvement in my imagination. I suppose it makes sense, because I’ve never had to Make Stuff Up to this degree, and in doing so, I’m finding that my creative mental muscles are far more limber and adept than they’ve ever been before. This has some negative effects, such as the sheer quantity and quality of the Dad Jokes I foist upon my children, but to be honest I think you’d find me to be a far better conversationalist now than I would have been, let’s say, six months ago.
As uncertain as I was earlier of this endeavor, I am virtually certain of finishing the job now that I’m this deeply into it, and I’m also pretty damned sure I’ll find a publisher for it. I’m also quite positive that I’ll hide under my bedsheets before I dare look at any review, because I have no earthly idea if this thing will be truly any good or not. But I do appreciate the encouragement I’ve received from Slopers on this project, and I truly look forward to being able to announce here that you can finally go to Amazon and get the one and only novel written by some guy named Tim Knight.
