How to Write my first novelWhat is the best way to write my first novel?
"I wrote my first novel, but he was teaching me how to write."
Thomas Morris needed three years to create the dream books. And then he wrecked it, and then he just sitting down and written the whole story. Thomas Morris needed three years to create the dream books. And then he wrecked it, and then he just sitting down and written the whole story. For three years I was in my mid-twenties and the novel was crap.
I' d always thought of myself as someone with good tastes, and when I completed the work I could see that it did not meet my sophisticated requirements. All I had to do was put on the right, decent clothing and the Establishment would certainly make me eat among them. One year after I wrote the novel, I began a new career.
At first it was okay, but then things started to change and I got a whole bunch of responsibility with a fair pay. When I got home, my sight was tight and sore because I stared at the computer all morning, and I could not bear to switch on my notebook to do more of my quiet novel.
About the same period, a series of terrible things occurred to those I cared about. I remained up until the early morning and struggled with a particularly difficult part of the novel, and my mind was narrow and my lefthand eyes kept wince. When my boyfriend spoke to me of something unspeakable terrible that had just occurred to his dad, I listened and nodded, but all I could think about was my work.
The need to keep fencing around the volume to keep the neatly designed silent letter from the noisy manure storm that was raging outside. Finally I tried to compose a respectable novel in meticulously reserved fiction in which nothing happens. When I was typing my novel, I came across a novel decorated with blurs that the writer commended for her "empathy," her "amazing humanity," and I thought: "Ooh, I would like to be described like that," and I promptly purchased the novel and hoped it would show me how to spell with compassion.
Meanwhile, when my boyfriend phoned, I saw his name shine on my cell phone screen, and I turned him on mute and kept flicking on my gummoz. I' ve been spending those nights guilty, frustrated and disgusted with my boyfriend - disgust that I couldn't completely focus on myself.
When I crossed the street an hours later (I had to take a long way round, I had to find a new way to the office), I tapped my boss's front desk, announced the resignation and phoned my fianc? to ask how he was doing. Took a long pause to understand how to give up control of your typing before it begins, to find the true impulses in your personality and history, how things are - not how we want them to be.
It took a great deal of self-questioning to realize that I once wrote a calm novel - not because I wanted literary respect, but because I was not prepared to deal with the sadness and joy, the actual complication and contradiction of it all.
To write whatever about the next I have written - the one that is actually going to be released - the first one has shown me how it should not be. One cannot deceive the reality - and the reality lies in silence and sounds, in seriousness and absurdity and in this whole celestial mixture of bloody, shite and ardor.
Faber & Faber publishes We Don't Know What We're Doing, a compilation of shorts.