Coming Back is Witchcraft
On Trusting the Process
First a note: Seattle! Tomorrow (Friday) night I’ll be at Hugo House for a panel titled: Second Locations, Second Chances: Characters Finding Self in the Most Unexpected Places. I’ll be joined by Alle C. Hall and Jennifer Haupt, and Sarah Neilson is moderating. The event is free.
It’s been a long time since I’ve sent out a newsletter. I’ve missed it dearly. My winter and early spring were so busy that I couldn’t fathom creating the time and space to send something out. Many times, an idea came to me, something I wanted to speak to, and I would sit down to write it but then I would get up before it was finished, and I never came back to it. This happened so many times, I stopped trying to write the idea out. Instead, I noted it in my notebook and continued the other work that consumed my time, mind, and creativity.
I spent most of that time enveloped in drafting and redrafting a novel. This is only my second one, but I’ve learned there comes a time when the book starts to make demands of you. It digs its claws into your soul and refuses to let go, pleading for your attention. I can recognize it now. I told my wife and friends I was going to disappear for a while. I didn’t tell you. February through April vanished. I woke up in May, my manuscript sent to my agent. It’s like when I sleep late with my eye mask on. I take it off, and the world is always brighter and so much more alive than I remember. Part of that feeling might be because it’s finally spring here in Portland. (She was so late to the party this year that I was beginning to wonder if she’d ever show up.)
If you ever want to finish a book, something has to go. For me, it’s usually housework and my social life. My home becomes a wreck. Laundry pile grows. Dust blooms. I’m a social butterfly, but when I’m in the forest of a novel, I might see a friend once a week at most. Giving up something in the name of a project is difficult. Even with a book out, I still think that no one would notice if I never finished another novel. I have to believe this so I can make the book the way it’s supposed to be, but it’s hard to decline party invitations and let the dishes build up for a project that feels more complete in my mind than it does on the page.
I’ve learned to trust the process.
I trust that if I sit down every day and write a couple pages about the same characters, then soon a story will emerge. I trust my intuition and my creativity. I trust myself to make the story interesting. I trust myself to fix it, to tighten the prose, and to listen to what the story needs from me. I trust that if I dedicate a lot of time and energy and creativity to this very hard thing, then I will be surprised by my own talents. I’ve found trust often pays off.
I sent the new novel to my agent at the end of April, but the work’s not over yet. (My agent’s already sent me good, thoughtful notes.) The bulk of the book is there. Now, it’s about tinkering, shrinking some parts and expanding others. I’m excited for this one. It was a doozy to write with its multiple POVs and the way it flirts with several genres. It makes me really happy to think about sharing it with you all someday.
All this to say that even with the work ahead of me, I can see a spaciousness in my time, too. One of the things I’m committing to is getting this newsletter going again. I’ve missed you all. I’ve missed your emails and comments. I’ve missed knowing I was sharing some part of myself with you. I’m coming back. My goal is to write a new post once a month, a pace I can keep up even when the next novel or book tour or script begs for my attention.
And if you’re in the weeds with a project, just know you’re in a long lineage of artists who’ve dedicated their time in secret to something simply for the pleasure of creation. Trust the process.
A Spell for Trusting
Trust is hard to gather. Trust means believing in something when our anxiety may tell us not to. Are you going to let your anxiety call the shots? Trust means doing something in the hopes that it will come together and others will show up. Sometimes trust is broken. Sometimes trust is built. Trust is the structure we work under. The best way to trust is to simply do it. Close our eyes. Fall backwards into the arms of your camp friends. Trust us. Trust me. Trust yourself.
Quick Note: I’ve decided to also start sharing what book I’m reading and what music I’m listening to, along with any other art that’s giving me juice.
What I’m reading: The Strange Inheritance of Leah Fern by Rita Zoey Chin
What I’m listening to: Oregon Eclipse Mix by CloZee
Thank you for this newsletter--I've been feeling guilty about letting housework/social life go in favor of writing recently, and this hit just at the right time!