25 September, 2006 | Leave a Comment

This week, I have a rare break from my U.S.-based online job. This job, otherwise known as “how Anglofille pays the bills,” takes up a lot of “mind space.” It’s 7 days a week and it’s something I always need to be thinking about. My breaks rejuvenate me. They help me to clear my mind, to focus on other things.

I’m going to use this little holiday to begin working, once again, on my novel. I plan to write in the mornings for a few hours (this weekend I bought a comfy writing chair and got my desk set up) and I’m hoping this will become a routine. Then in the afternoons I’ll do something to nurture my creative self. I really want to check out a few of Paris’s renowned gardens while the weather is still nice and maybe I’ll visit a museum or two. I’ll do a lot of walking and visit at least one café a day to consume a beloved citron pressé. I can’t live this way all the time, but taking a week “off” to just write and see the city like a tourist before work begins again and school starts will do wonders for me, I hope.

As you may recall, at the beginning of the summer I proclaimed that I would finish writing a first draft of my novel by the end of the summer…which is right about now. [No link provided, don’t want to even look at that old post.] Well, I’ve written about ten words. Great work! [Pats self on back.]

It was an unrealistic plan, of course. This summer was full of chaos, what with moving and traveling. But now I consider the novel to be my focus in life — I have work and school, of course, but my primary reason for being each day will be to write. And write a lot.

This summer marked the three-year anniversary of my graduation with an MFA in creative writing (yes, I’m one of those). My novel-in-progress (now rechristened unfinished novel #3) made up the bulk of my thesis. I showed great promise back then – all my classmates and teachers were sure I’d finish the book, a few agents were interested in it, etc. But I still haven’t finished it and to be perfectly honest, I’ve made very little progress on it since graduation. I’ve been involved in other worthwhile writing projects, but the novel has floundered.

When I was traveling in the U.S. in August, my thesis supervisor from grad school (a critically acclaimed novelist and short story writer and a wonderful, caring woman) e-mailed me out of the blue. I hadn’t spoken with her in at least a year. She wrote to say that when she was teaching her graduate fiction writing workshop this past June, her co-teacher (also a former teacher of mine) brought up my book and the class discussed it somewhat. My novel deals extensively with a topic (let’s term it ‘body image’) that is rarely dealt with in serious fiction, but instead remains the purview of “chick lit.” So my professor (whom I won’t name to respect her privacy, though I hear through the grapevine that she might read my blog sometimes) wrote to me to say that people are waiting for me to finish my book and that she’s counting on me to finish it. That she would reach out to me in such a way really touched me and provided me with much-needed motivation. I haven’t yet responded to her message, which is disgraceful. I have been very bad about keeping in touch with her at all, probably because by writing to her, I am reminded of how I have failed. But now I know that even after three years, she still believes in me and in my book. It’s important to have her support.

I will work very hard this week to reclaim my literary life. I’ve started an online writing group with two friends from home — not to share our writing (though we do sometimes) but mainly to keep each other motivated, to talk about process, to discuss books. Writing a book is a lonely endeavour and it’s necessary to have companions who are also traveling the same road. When I’m writing, I am my best self. I need to create — it’s what fulfills me, it’s what gives my life meaning. Despite this, there are reasons for not wanting to do it, for avoiding it. To write well, I must become obsessed with my project — it needs to be what I’m thinking about when I walk down the street, when I awake in the morning, when I take a shower, at all times. If it doesn’t consume me, then I won’t produce good work. And it’s hard to devote yourself to something with this level of intensity. The passion it evokes in me is sometimes frightening in its overwhelming power. It’s other-wordly. It’s an addictive feeling, a high like you can’t imagine unless you’ve been through it. This may sound ideal to those who have never experienced it, but it’s difficult to surrender to this kind of life. Because when things aren’t going well with the writing, life can become a dark black hole. [My advice to you: Don't get into a relationship with a creative writer or poet. Just don't do it. Trust me.]

But you know, it’s time for me to finish this damn novel. This is my story. I was born to tell this story. I’ve earned the right to tell it. If I don’t finish this book, it will be one of the great failures of my life and I refuse to let that happen. This is the ideal time for me to finish it — I have more free time and I have a very flexible schedule. So here I go, into this scary and wonderful territory, into this abyss. Wish me luck.

1. Comments RSS

1. caroline Says:

   September 25th, 2006 at 3:35 pm

   “Happiness lies in the joy of achievement and the thrill of creative effort.”
   - Franklin D. Roosevelt.

   “He who labors diligently need never despair; for all things are accomplished by diligence and labor.” -Menander.

   i know that you already know this but just incase you may forget in the future, do not give up! work hard, and long, for there is surely a reward. i’m counting on you.
   good luck!

2. Anglofille Says:

   September 26th, 2006 at 12:28 am

   thanks so much for these inspiring words, caroline! you’re very sweet.