What It Feels Like to Write Your First Novel
Writing a Novel Without Readers
Writing a novel is a delightful journey full of dreaming, scheming, and quiet diligence. Connecting with a community and garnering support is nigh a requirement if one intends to complete the project, given the outlandish amount of work. But what if there are no readers? It’s not that nobody would read if it were presented to an audience. Rather, the content itself is intentionally clandestine. Without readers, an author is subject to seclusion, seemingly detached from sources of validation and encouragement.
The Loneliness of Writing Your First Novel
Beginning a novel feels like paddling across the ocean in your personal boat, which you made yourself. There’s fanfare, spectators, and a buzz of excitement as you cast off from shore. Then, you and your little vessel disappear into the horizon. Sooner or later, you find yourself drifting through open ocean without land or another soul in sight. It’s at this exact point that you begin asking yourself if you’re passionate or just insane.
This is where I am—the open sea. Fortunately, I love the ocean. But I’m not immune to loneliness.
Paddling day after day is exhausting. When there’s nobody else with you, it becomes tiresome and lonesome.
It’s so hard to put this level of effort into a project and not be able to show it to anyone. I know I’m not actually alone. Fellow writers understand my plight. There are family and friends who offer support. But nobody gets to be right there with me. At the end of the day, it’s me and the uncharted waters before me.
When Motivation Has to Come From Nowhere
There’s a reason marathons are held in prominent locations. You’re unlikely to meet someone who trains for weeks and months only to complete the 26.2 miles in the middle of the night alone on rural roads (okay, I’m sure somebody’s done it). No, marathons are held downtown in large cities, along coastal highways, and in scenic landscapes. Spectators show up in droves to bear witness to runners pushing their bodies to the limits.
As a runner, the crowd fills you up. The smiles and cheers are absorbed to fortify yourself against fatigue and self-doubt. Fellow runners create momentum around you. It’s usually a very public, encouraging atmosphere.
Writing a full-length novel is much different. You don’t get to put your work on display as you go. As such, nobody can offer that personalized exhortation to keep going.
Sometimes, it feels like I’m all alone writing this story. It’s a true test of intrinsic motivation. The only person always there for you is yourself. And some days, that person is worn out. On these days, I rely on my habit of (at least) writing 30 minutes a day—and sometimes that’s all I can do.
Keeping tension between the end-goal and the words typed on the page daily is challenging. There is a motivation that comes from each. Observing my daily progress and being proud of a scene or chapter I completed is much-needed fuel. Appreciating that I’m slowly stitching what will be a beautiful tapestry one day is also exciting. Drawing from each in tandem is key to maintaining inspiration to press on.
Writing Without Feedback or Validation
In obscurity, my ANTs want to run the show (ANT: Automatic Negative Thoughts). With nobody else confirming I’m on the right track (or any track), I begin to doubt myself. Is this story any good? Will this story matter? Do I have what it takes to finish it?
Uncertainty acts as an insidious venom. I didn’t realize how many things I do in life get validated or confirmed by another person. The contrast is staggering when that validation drops to zero.
Why Writing Alone Feels Different Than Being Alone
Being alone is not inherently troublesome. I value time to myself to reflect, partake in personal hobbies, or nap. Simply being by myself is distinguished from writing by myself. Writing a guarded piece can feel like being in a room full of people, yet sensing you’re alone, unseen, and unknown.
Writing alone comes with a component almost like missing out. At this point, I’m missing out on connecting with others—mutuality, reciprocity, and symbiosis.
Keeping my story private as it goes through draft phases feels like keeping a secret—one I desperately want to tell. Some things inside us cannot be shared explicitly. An artistic medium is necessary to express certain inner yearnings or sentiments. Written or spoken description fails to capture the internal essence of our souls.
A good story demands delving deep into one’s own psyche, perhaps plunging further than ever before. Dredging the depths of the soul is a chilling, vulnerable, and revelatory experience. The resultant story, then, is an indirect form of self-expression. Its theme, plot, and characters operate as totems of that innermost exploration. Each written page shimmers with flecks of precious mental metals.
But until this story is shared, it remains trapped with me in my own little world.
The Fear That No One Will Ever Read It
This is tough to talk about. With the time and effort I’m pouring into this story, of course I want others to read it. I desire to know myself and be known by others through the narrative.
But what if I’m wasting my time? What if I’m anticipating a glorious emancipation from this dark tunnel of solitude only to end up in an expanse of nothingness?
It could happen. Well, maybe not so dramatically. What I mean is I could go through all this effort, and the book could be read by a mere handful of people. The question I have to ask myself is if it will still be worth it.
Why I’m Writing Anyway
For someone who has waged a lifetime war against shame, I’m prone to discredit myself. The cornerstone of my motivation actually comes from just that. Paradoxically enough, I challenged myself to write a novel specifically because I’ve always thought I couldn’t. Every day I write, I’m showing myself that I can.
I don’t need permission to do this. I’m not writing because someone else told me to. This is my thing. It’s my time.
I get to make space for myself that is wholly my own. This story emanates from the totality of my human experience. It is a reflection of my desires, fears, and perspective.
Writing is helping me understand myself better, and I’ve already had many surprises. It’s also combating shame. By searching my heart and soul, I’m communicating to myself that I’m a person worth knowing.
What I Hope Writing This Book Will Become
My aim for this book is for it to become a beacon of hope to myself and others who struggle with self-doubt. I want it to stand as a tangible sign of my capability as a person and be an invitation to others to exercise their creative freedom.
The story itself is another, well, story. I love stories that make me feel a certain way. The book ends, and a visceral longing remains. As I close the cover, I continue to drink in the oft-bittersweet aroma that lingers. There’s no denying that this story has changed me in its unique way. Something in me has shifted, however slight. The feelings that escape names or labels will rise in me like little waves for years to come. This is the kind of book I desire to create.
There is power in story. If I can be a conduit for an ounce of that power, I will consider my mission fulfilled.
If You’re Writing a Novel No One Has Read Yet
If this resonates with you—perhaps you’re writing a novel too!—I invite you to paddle your boat alongside me. I may not be able to enter your boat right now, but we can travel these beautifully treacherous waters together.
Feel free to drop a comment; let me know what you’re working on or what you want to start. Writing can be lonely, but we can spur each other on even if we don’t share our stories just yet.
If you’re just starting or trying to remain consistent, here’s a writing strategy that’s helped me tremendously.
