The Journey Of (Considerably More Than) A Thousand Words…
Last week I confirmed that the edit of Daughter of Blood was done and dusted in time for Christmas.
I’d also mentioned, just a little earlier in the day, that once it was done:
“After that (somewhen) I also hope to post some more about some of the hows and whys and wrinkles in the process — although there’s also the risk that once it’s done I won’t want to talk about it at all!”
Increasingly, I am very much of the view that “the book that can be spoken of is not the book” — but you have all been very patient so I am going to make a heroic effort and speak.
Firstly, as I also said last week, about the whole journey of this book really: “It’s been a very long—and frequently winding!— road but the journey of a thousand miles ends as it began, with one step; or in the case of a writer, one word on the page until we come to the final line.”
So how come, you may ask: why does it it take so long?
I guess the short answer could be: “It’s done when it’s done, yanno. The end.” While this may seem dismissive, it is not intended that way—and is in fact the kernel of the matter, as I hope the rest (below) may show.
A slightly longer answer could be:
“And until it’s done, all you can do is keep writing and keep putting one word after the other.” And again, to quote from an earlier post (The Tao Of Writing): “…the WALL story, as you may have noticed, is a complex and multi-layered one and although another writer might be able to ‘do it all with a snap of his/her fingers while standing on his/her head’—I, alas, am not that writer. I am, however, very committed to delivering a story that will ring true when you read it…”
So coming back to those hows and whys and wrinkles, what have some of them been? First, I feel we have to start with Ursula Le Guin:
“…the story boat is a magic one. It knows its course. The job of the person at the helm is to help it to find it’s own way to wherever it’s going.”
Indeed—but sometimes the person at the helm can have a rough ride as the boat of story is alternately thrown about in the roaring forties, becalmed in the doldrums, or has to tack back and forth across the vasty deeps looking for a steady following wind. And even when, finally, one comes in sight of land, an offshore blow may prevent one entering harbour for quite some considerable time… Be that as it may the boat of story still holds to its unerring course and all the helmswoman can do is stick with it knowing that if she does (putting down one word after the other) sooner or later both book and author will finally make landfall.
And then there’s Harper Lee, with a riff to Junot Diaz:
“It takes time and patience and effort to turn out a work of art, and few people seem willing to go all the way.” ~ Harper Lee
“The whole culture is telling you to hurry, while the art tells you to take your time. Always listen to the art.” ~ Junot Diaz
Throughout the writing of Daughter of Blood I have been listening to the art—and that has required considerable time and patience on my part as author (as well as on the part of all those waiting on the author!) It has also, as I alluded to earlier in the year, proven to be “… the hardest work I’ve ever done, either intellectually or emotionally.”
I must, however, point out that I cannot claim virtue for having one so, nor have I nobly set out to dedicate myself to art, or anything of like ilk. No, I have no choice but to “go with” the boat of story and get it right—no matter how much time, patience, blood, sweat, and tears is expended doing so—because if I don’t then then the story simply refuses to budge, no matter how muchI, as author, may “rant and storm.”
I have to say, though, that whenever the story does that—refuses to progress until I have worked out “why”—the story is always right: there is always a flaw or a wrinkle in the mix somewhere that will cause matters to gang horribly awry if I pursue the current course. In short, to return to Ms Le Guin’s metaphor, there are shoals and/or breakers ahead, and hidden icebergs or jagged reefs waiting to hole the vessel. So the boat of story, you see, is not only magic, it is also wise…
But as Junot Diaz points out, the author has to listen to the story and take the time necessary to get it right. So that’s what I’ve been doing—listening and putting the words down, one after the other. There’s more to it, of course, but that’s the gist.
And there have been other things in the mix, such as starting work on this book at the end of the “year of awful”, when Christchurch was riven by a number of major earthquakes, and completing it through the aftermath of that: “interesting times” as the saying goes, which both demand and take their toll. I’m sure it’s all had an effect, although how much of one is impossible to say.
What can be said, though, absolutely, is: “…that I have been working diligently and steadily on the book all this time, so you need not fear that I do not take delivering it to you seriously.”
And now, I know, you will (may?) want to know ‘when’ it will be published. As you may know, it is the publisher that decides that, depending on their forward schedule, but as soon as I know “for sure” I will share the information. (Chances are that in this age of the internet, you will beat me to it!)
A very interesting post. And helpful too. I like the bit about the story always being right…Know that one well. Congratulations on finishing the book and have a lovely Christmas break. 🙂
Thank you, Helen. I suspect it may give you an inkling as to why your Tuesday interview with Vincent O’Sullivan resonated so strongly. And the very best of seasonal wishes “back at ya!”