Read a Slate article today titled What Took You So Long? The quiet hell of 10 years of novel writing which describes the authors ten year endeavor to publish her novel, Stiltsville.
Typically for a puff piece in Slate, it's a bit heavy on the emotion and filled with raging, tortured self-insight. I will say, based on the article, I think the author is probably a very good writer. That being said, reading her book, if it is written in the same voice, would be a Sisyphean task that would require me to re-read many sentences to understand it fully.
A couple of statements from the article stood out as I have been struggling with the same issues:
"Writing is hard—writers say this all the time, and I think probably only other writers believe it. But it's not nearly as hard, in my experience, as not writing."
I would have changed the final two words of this sentence from "not writing" to "editing." She's right, writing is hard. Editing and rewriting is even harder. Imagine second guessing your second guesses two or three times and you have some idea of what editing a novel is like.
"It didn't happen overnight, but the tide of my life shifted. I dropped a few obligations and started getting up early to write for an hour or two before leaving the house. Of course I was sidetracked again—moving, pregnancy—but not for long. After I wrote the last sentence, I printed the whole mess and got out my red pen, and the relief of having a complete draft was overwhelming."
It's always good to hear from other writers about how they juggle the demands of their daily lives with their writing. Having a 4 year old and a 5 month old, a spouse with a full time job, and one myself, I find it a struggle to find time to write myself.
Long story short, save the sob story Miss Daniel. Based on what I've read from others, ten years is nothing.
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