5% inspiration…

I usually write my blog posts at night after the main writing (i.e. working) day is done, but that also often means that I’m feeling tired and a bit “blah” by the time I start the post.

Unless it’s been a really exceptionally positive and inspirational day with the ‘main writing’ that is, but in the spirit of creativity being “5% inspiration and 95% perspiration” those days (or nights!) really don’t come along that often. And since I want to post on the ‘main writing’ (mw — or emdubbya 😉 ) and WALL #4, “blah” really isn’t the starting point I’m looking for. Just sayin’

Yep, it’s autumn here…

Even though a little bit of “blah” may be considered justified after almost 4 weeks in lockdown, and amidst the autumn change-of-season, too—but since I 100% support LockdownNZ and the autumn weather has generally been marvellous, that’s definitely a “Yeah…Nah.”

Part of the inspiration for this post was my Supernatural Underground colleague, Amanda Arista’s post earlier this month, in which she discusses the ten-year road to her recently released novel, The Truth About Night. I was glad to read the post because something that’s not-much-talked-about in relation to writing is that novels are not only “long form” literature, but can also be a long time in the writing process, with the creative spark exacting its full quotient of perspiration, as well as blood and not a few tears, from the authors in question.

95% perspiration

The reasons for this can be quite diverse, from Amanda’s account of the many publishing twistings, turnings, and hurdles into getting a book to the world, through to long form storytelling being, quite simply, hard and challenging work that does make real intellectual, emotional, and physical demands on authors. And exacts that full toll of blood, sweat, and tears—all of which I personally find worth it when I finally win through to those magic words “the end.” (I can’t speak for any other writer in this respect.)

The long form taking time is by no means unusual either. A few relatively recent examples include Catherine Chidgey’s Ockham NZ Book Award winning novel, The Wish Child, which took thirteen years to write. Similarly, readers who loved Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief (2005), also had a thirteen-year wait until Bridge of Clay in 2018. Closing the gap to eight years, Erin Morgenstern brought out The Night Circus in 2011, and her next book, The Starless Sea in 2019. And the next-in-series novel to Patrick Rothfuss’s The Wise Man’s Fear (2011) has now reached year nine, as (famously) has George RR Martin’s ASOIAF novel, The Winds of Winter.

Oh no–oo-ooo, I may hear you cry, what is Helen saying? She’s not saying it’s going to be between eight to thirteen years until she finishes The Chaos Gate? Is she? Is she?  And the answer is “No, she’s not.” Or I certainly sincerely hope not, because although it’s easy to say, it’s also true that the demands of the long form are as frustrating to me as the author as they are to any reader. I can’t give you a date yet, for a number of reasons, including that the twists and turns of this particular long form journey mean that I won’t know for certain when it’s the end until I type the words. Anything else is just me pulling a date out of the air and hoping (like heck)—but so far the muses* have treated all such attempts, however private to me and the manuscript, with contempt and disdain. So suffice it to say that I have learned not to apply my fingertips to that particular burning flame.

Writing, writing, & not always thrown away…

However, what I can tell you is that despite the twists and turns of the long road to this juncture, WALL #4 is coming together into the story I always envisaged and starting to deliver some of the key story and character resolves for the series as well as the individual book. I’ve had to do a lot of writing-and-throwing-away, plus late night and early morning hard bargaining with the muses, to get to this point but I do feel that the writing is on the true and right path of the story with the signposts all clearly pointing toward “the end.” My caution is that I’m not there yet and there’s still considerable writing (and doubtless some throwing away) to be done, but I can not only “see it” now, but I can promise you it’s definitely coming closer. As I also always promise, as soon as I type “the end”, I’ll let you know here and on Twitter.

Open for writing on, every day…

The other promise I always make, and it is one I will never break, is my commitment to the muses and to readers that I will never step back from making the story as good as my creative and writing powers can manage, in the hopes that when it is done and in readers hands they may feel it is worth the wait. Another promise I will never break (within the coda of continued life and physical and mental capability) is that I shall finish the book. I can also give you the assurance that every day, however many obstacles “life, the universe and everything” (including somewhat extraordinary times!) place in the way, I am working on delivering on those commitments.

The river Why: all we can know…

As to why the long form can take so long…”throws up hands” because honestly, if I knew the answer to that, it really wouldn’t. Suffice it to say that in my case there have been a succession of Big Life Events that I’m pretty sure have thrown their spanners in the works. But otherwise, I’m forced to the conclusion (through experience, since I didn’t know it from the outset and if I had may well have done things differently) that despite the best endeavours and certainly the heartfelt wishes and  aspirations of this particular author in which speed (by which I mean celerity, not the drug!) and ‘done yesterday’ all figure large, sometimes the long form just is long, and takes time to write and get right, yanno…None of which means, as a reader myself, that I don’t fully get how tough it is to become engaged with a series and then have to wait years for the next installment.

…is that every river must, at last, come to the sea.

And all of which means that I deeply appreciate the support and encouragement so many of you have shown me, so consistently, in the four years since Daughter of Blood came out—and which always reinforces those commitments and assurances (two paragraphs) above.

In terms of what I can do, in lieu of a date, and recognizing your patience, support, and general all-round virtue, I’m going to try and do more regular updates on progress, say at least three-monthly. And I’m going to post a little more on being inside the writing life. My only qualm on that score is, as I may have mentioned in relation to LockdownNZ, that the writing life is, ummm, kind of naturally self-isolating and so potentially not that interesting, i.e. it’s the writing that’s the interesting part imho. However, I’m meant to be a creative and—ummm—fiction is my thing, so I’ll see what I can do, despite occasionally feeling a tad drained by the daily wrassle with the mw and the muses.

Naturally “self-isolating”…

Until next time, dear friends, particularly in view of the current extraordinary times, keep taking good care of yourselves, and please stay as well as you can. He waka eke noa — we’re all in this together.

—

*Muses: re why plural and not singular, ’tis because traditionally the Muses are a sisterhood of nine:

Clio of history
Euterpe of lyric poetry
Thalia of comedy
Melpomene of tragedy
Terpsichore of choral dance and song
Erato of erotic poetry and mime
Polymnia of the sublime hymn
Calliope of epic poetry
Urania of astronomy