Story Meld (Or, Finally, Maybe, Hopefully, I Have Something to Write!)

By The Eye-Dancers on June 30, 2024

A few months ago, I mentioned I had the genesis of a new novel--finally. After quite a dry spell since finishing The Singularity Wheel. Excited, I dove in and crafted a couple of chapters. But then . . . deflation. I realized pretty quickly that I didn't have the kinetic energy necessary to continue on with a long writing project. If, after only two chapters, I felt myself petering out, what chance did the story have?

Admittedly, these feelings can sometimes be misleading. Maybe we're having a bad day or a bad week. Maybe we're tired. Maybe, for some reason, completely unrelated to the WIP, we're just not in the mood to write. As such, I didn't make any decisions for a solid month. I wanted to give the fledgling novel every chance I could before calling it a day. But, after the month had elapsed, I realized I had even less zest to keep going. The idea no longer energized me--it didn't pop. It lacked the one thing a novel must have if you are to write it--the ability to captivate its author. If you as the author aren't invested in your own story, your readers certainly won't be.

And so I made the easy, and yet difficult, decision to quit writing the story. It was the right choice, but it left me where I'd been before starting it--story-less, no novel-length projects to work on. It had been too long. Would I ever write another novel? Or had the well run dry--something I had always feared might happen someday. Had that day arrived?

I took a step back, thought it over, tried to force a couple of ideas--but that never works. You can't tell yourself to write a novel if you have no idea, no vision, no characters who move you and urge you to carry on, with an inertia and a force that is irresistible and inevitable. At least I can't. That's what I'd just tried! It would never work.

What, then? Just sit back and wait for inspiration to strike? What if it never did? While I couldn't force a story as it were, I could perhaps give myself some momentum, pouring literary lighter fuel onto my creative spirit. So I read some Ray Bradbury, who always motivates me. Watched a couple of my favorite Twilight Zone episodes, revisited some old comic books; read Truman Capote and Harper Lee and other personal favorites.

Nothing happened at first--no epiphanies, no "aha" moments. But I could feel a turn in my creative soul. The dormant muse was stirring, if gently, quietly, with a whisper, not a shout. But there was movement. Something had shifted.

I began to think of other novel ideas I'd had over the past year or two. Like this latest one, they, too, began with a flourish but fizzled as soon as they were tested. But I realized--despite initially feeling upbeat about my recent novel ideas, I never felt stratospheric, never had that sense that I was called to write the story. It was interesting, and got my creative juices flowing. But not enough. Not to the point of needing to write it.

I examined the ideas I'd had--the sparse outlines, the characters, themes, motivations. Might there still be meat on those bones, nuggets that if properly fertilized, might give birth to an idea with legs? I pored over the notes I'd written, the first chapters, the stories that had begun but did not finish. And I began to realize something. While none of the ideas, individually, were strong enough to pursue, melded together, the best ideas of each would-be story might coalesce into one focused narrative that had potential.

I thought it over, made notes, truly got in sync with my passions--what it is I want to write about. Made some changes. Adjustments and additions. Cut some things out. Pulled it all together into a loose, general outline--not a chapter-by-chapter analysis--far from it. Just a one-page overview, hitting key plot points, describing some of the main characters, the themes, the tone, the point of view. Hmm, I thought. You may have something here.

The key was--there was coherence. A resonance with the subject matter and themes. It is a return to coming-of-age, but it also incorporates memories, reflections, social commentary. Everything I want to write about.

Okay, then. Let's get this party started. It'll be a slow process. My novel-writing muscles have weakened a bit from disuse. I'll need to start slowly and gain momentum. But I think I have something with genuine promise. I'll just need to take it one chapter, one paragraph, one sentence at a time.

Will it be a grand coming-together of important ideas and themes, merging into one powerful, moving narrative? Or will it be a patchwork Frankenstein monster that stumbles to and fro, without direction or focus? Only time will tell. But I will take the plunge hoping for the former.