If you’re
lucky – and I am – you have a passion that is central to your identity. It
frames who you are, whether it’s art or medicine, homemaking or leadership. For
me, that passion is writing. I hardly know what I think or feel until I’ve
found a way to express it in writing.
But having a
passion that is also a commercial venture can get confusing. About the time my
novel The Language of
Sparrows was published, the complications in my life spiraled.
It involved a painful divorce (what divorce isn’t?), promotions at work that
required longer hours, and my girls entering their teens, which – surprise! –
is more complex than raising little ones.
When I first
started writing, my girls were young and I had a fulltime job. I got up before
dawn to write, and edited during my lunch hour. It was exhausting and
exhilarating. I finished two novels, published the second, and began work on
the third.
If John
Grisham and Diana Gabaldon could get their start stealing time to write in the
wee hours around jobs and families, so could I. I was the little engine who
could, chugging up the writing tracks with confidence. Until I couldn’t
anymore. I couldn’t be a single mother, manager and author. I was burnt
out. As any writer knows, letting your imagination dream up a coherent
novel-length story requires loads of listening time and mental energy day after
day after day. With my crazy busy life I no longer had time or mental energy.
I was
convinced I had to
write that next novel though, because I was published now and needed to strike
while the iron was hot. I kept trying, unsuccessfully, until at last I
surrendered to the blank page and stopped writing altogether. What a painful
time that was. You see, writing isn’t a hobby for me. It’s my heart and soul. Without
words I was emotionally parched.
It took about
a year for me to rediscover the kinds of writing that didn’t have anything to
do with publication. It was journaling for myself and writing poetry and short articles
to share with friends. That kind of writing helped me rediscover the long-forgotten
happiness of stringing words together for the fun of it, of saying exactly what
I meant and saying it well. Writing bliss!
I’ve read so much
writing advice that insinuates that if you’re a real writer, you’ll
write through thick and thin, no matter what. I am a real writer, but I
absolutely believe the time off was necessary and good, as it may be for many
real writers.
During what I
now call my sabbatical years, I got out of the house more, spent time with my girls, had
profound relationships, took a few vacations, thought through hard personal
topics. I experimented with different kinds of writing. I lived and I loved and
I grew. Gradually, I returned to my third novel, but I wrote in slow snatches
as I could find the time and only as ideas came to me. After several years I’m
a little over half way into my first draft.
Time has
allowed my story to marinate. As a result, it has more plot layers, richer
characters and deeper themes. Maybe I’m rationalizing, but I think the time away
from the story has paid off personally and creatively.
My girls are young women now, and a couple of months ago, I took early retirement. I’m back to writing my novel consistently. It’s my new unofficial job. It’s unpaid at least for now and comes with a demanding boss (ha!)
I’m excited to be back at it though. I’m loving the pages piling up
and the story taking shape. Also, it fills my heart to be working again with my
favorite friend and critique partner, Christine Lindsay. As we write our novels,
we’ll be sharing some of our tips on writing fiction and living well as a
writers on www.NovelRenaissance.com. If writing is your thing, I invite you to join us.