In 2014, I gave up on the novel that I’ve now been working on for six years.
The truth was that I’d come to the conclusion that this piece of work required a level of talent and skill that I simply did not possess. I’m my own best advocate, but I’m also a practical and honest person. I did not believe that I had the capability to pull off the massive feat that this novel required.
I put the novel aside with a comment to my husband about how this book was too niche and given how unlikely it was to find an audience, I had taken it as far as I could go and there was no point trying to learn how to take it further.
Some projects, unfortunately, do have to end like this. There is no shame in that.
Two weeks later, however, when I arrived at my desk in the morning, there was a newspaper cutting on top of my computer. It was about an Indian-made independent film that was getting rave reviews internationally. The subject matter was eerily similar to that of my novel. On top of the newspaper article was a post-it with my husband’s handwriting.
It said, “So what if it’s too niche?”
Earlier this week, I snapped and went on a quitting rampage. I quit email. I quit therapy. I quit leaving the house. I quit eating. Most devastatingly, I quit the novel.
I had, once again, hit a wall. A massive one this time. A week ago, I finished the final draft of this book, and my husband Sam, who is my first reader and an absolutely brilliant editor, pointed out that in a couple of the most powerful scenes of the novel, I’m emotionally holding back.
He’s right. I am.
On the surface, my problem is simple. There are scenes that need to be fixed and I know exactly what is wrong with them, therefore, I should be able to rewrite them. The thing is, I can’t. I don’t know how. I do not have the writing or the technical ability to write these scenes in a way that would make them work.
“What you’re asking me to do is operate at a level that I’m not capable of,” I said to Sam.
“That you’re not YET capable of,” he replied.
I allowed myself to sit with his words and wallow in self pity for a few days. I had to accept that like it or not, the bar had been raised and I could either jump up and try to reach it, or I could lie here, feeling sorry for myself and complain about how much hard work and how many years of my life it’s taken already to get here.
Because here’s the thing I have learned over and over again: The only way to get to the next level in the game, whatever your game might be, is to reach for it before you’re ready. The reason you’re scared and nervous is because you’re not operating at that level. If you were, you wouldn’t fear it.
As David Bowie says in this video, “If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”
I have been writing this novel for six years. While it is technically true that I wrote the first word of this book almost six years ago, that sentence is inherently a lie. Because it is not THIS novel that I was writing six years ago, it was an entirely different one. As my skill level improved after year one, two, three, and four, the novel changed shape, sometimes to the point where it was no longer recognizable.
What I have been doing for the last six years is trying to get closer to the vision of this book that I have in my mind. That perfect vision may never be realized, perhaps, but there is a learning process that gets me closer and closer, that helps close the gap.
Ira Glass sums up this process perfectly. “… for the first couple years that you’re making stuff, what you’re making isn’t so good,” he says. “It’s not that great. It’s trying to be good, it has ambition to be good but it’s not quite that good. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, your taste is still killer and your taste is good enough that you can tell that what you’re making is kind of a disappointment to you… A lot of people never get past that phase and a lot of people at that point, they quit.”
The solution, he says, is to do a great volume of work that will allow you to catch up and close that gap.
This is why first books take so long and second books come out in a fraction of that time. You’re improving your skills slowly at the beginning, learning everything, and catching up.
Earlier this year, I finished what I thought then was the last draft of this novel and signed with a well-respected literary agent. The night she sent me back edits, I just sat and stared at the wall. Every part of the book that she had critiqued was spot on, absolutely correct, and I was eager to get on with fixing it. But I also felt tiny, insignificant. I felt fear right in the tips of my fingers. I felt lost. Because while my agent had told me what needed fixing, she hadn’t told me how it was to be fixed.
She had assumed I was smart enough to figure it out. I worried that she was mistaken in this assumption.
I was being asked to step up my game. I did not know how to step up my game.
I did the only two things I could think to do: I read a dozen books on the craft of writing, taking copious notes as I went along. And I read as many novels as I possibly could in an attempt to learn from the masters. I surrounded myself with storytelling.
As I relaxed and allowed myself to ease into the learning, something started opening up. The fear melted away and understanding started setting in.
As creators, it is inevitable that we will repeatedly find ourselves challenged and faced with discomfort. It is to be expected if we are to grow and reach higher levels of excellence.
I did it. I got myself to the new level.
And then this. This new wall. This new challenge. This feeling, once again, of not being capable, of not possessing the necessary skills, of having to face another uncomfortable period of growth.
I allowed myself a few days of sitting in a corner and licking my wounds. But now I’m getting back up again and doing exactly what the legendary David Bowie tells us to do– I am going into the water and out of my depth, knowing fully that my feet won’t touch the bottom. Maybe then, I’ll be in the right place to do something exciting.
And you?