New Beginnings Do Not Mean Starting Over
I started from the beginning last month – a blank Google Doc on my screen and the outline of a new story perched next to my steaming coffee. And then I wrote. With each clacking keyboard stroke I felt lighter, freer. You see, back in April I decided that I would finish my first novel and immediately begin a second one. If you’ve read my post It’s Time to Move Forward, you’ll understand the frustrations that drove me to begin my second book. I made a goal. I accomplished the goal, and now I am beginning something new, but it would be a mistake to say that I am starting over.
As a writer, beginning a new project can be scary. The first frightening thing is to say that the last project, a beautiful polished gem, might not be such a precious stone after all. Even more heart-raising is admitting that it will likely stay tucked inside the drawer of unpublished projects, never to see the light of day. Second, you are taking a gamble that you can once again find that creative spark to energize your next project. Some artists never find it again, and for those who do, what they create is too often criticized beyond the point at which the artist wishes they had never released it at all. For me, moving to a new project proved particularly hair-raising because I actually had an editor from a good small publisher asking for resubmission to the press after revision of the story. But I felt my first book was not ready and more importantly, I, the artist, was not either.
Acclaimed fantasy author Brandon Sanderson advises new writers to complete the process of writing a book at least three times. What Sanderson is stating is that writing isn’t a singular act. It’s not about what appears on paper, it is the entire process from inspiration, to world building, perfecting the craft, plotting an outline, writing the book, and finally, editing. Each of these parts form a cohesive whole and only practice creates a cohesive product. It is to this goal that I strive. But my process on this, my first book, was not a cohesive product.
I made a difficult decision. I emailed the small press and told them that I would not be editing my manuscript. You see, my first project was grown from a rotten core. I began work on my first book well before I understood how to critically read and analyze fantasy, much less write it to any extent that might be considered entertaining. If I had tried to make my first project publishable, I would still be editing, plotting, replotting, and redrafting. Continuing to hone my book while expecting diamonds from coal, would have driven me mad. Maybe I made a huge mistake by removing myself from an opportunity, but something in me said that I, as a creator and a writer, was not ready for the next step. As Sanderson advised, I needed practice and that required time.
New beginnings do not mean starting over. We take our learnings with us and apply them to our next project, our next act, and our next day. I agree with Sanderson. To get truly proficient at any task, we must practice. Some authors write incredible debut stories, however they likely had to complete many drafts to get them to the quality of the finished product. These drafts were essentially that practice. It took me about four years to complete book one. I should have moved on from book one earlier and practiced the aspects of writing a science fiction/fantasy novel. But here I am, excited at a new beginning.
Did I miss the opportunity to get my work published? The simple answer is that I’ll never know, and to get philosophical, it does not matter. Ultimately, I needed to feel ready for the next step in my career as an author. At the time, I did not feel that my first book reflected who I had become creatively, and how can someone proceed with something that they do not feel prepared for.
If I dwell on time lost to this failed project or the loss of an opportunity to publish my work, the only person I hurt is myself. And perhaps this is the greatest lesson that I’ve learned, that new beginnings do not mean starting over. We take our learnings with us to the next project and make that as perfect as we can before moving onto the next. The artist is always moving on and never staying still. So is it truly lost time? I don’t see it as such. I began my second book when I was ready to begin and no sooner. As Gandalf said, “a wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.” In the pursuit of success, I look to create content worthy of the consumption of others – this goal, I hope, I am finally close to accomplishing.
