Novel Diaries: my naked first draft
I’ve had a story in me for a long time that couldn’t find words. It came out in visual abstract ways, but mostly floated around in my mind. I’m not one for words.
This year, to my surprise, I stumbled upon a writing coach. Six months later I’m revising the first draft of a novel! Who knew.
Not only did I NOT expect to write a book, I didn’t expect the story that came out me. Apparently, the story in me had its own story to tell.
I have had no clue what I’m doing, which is both freeing and frightening. I read a fragment of my freshly revised opening to my writing group the other day. “Run away! Run away” from Monty Python and the Holy Grail’s killer rabbit scene surfaced in my head.
This happens almost every time I read to the group. Not the killer rabbit scene—but some version of a petrified me shows up. And I couldn’t be reading to a more lovely group of people. There are five of us—people I respect, learn from, and feel completely welcome and accepted by. No reason to fear. But the fear is there. When I’m done reading, I want to run away again, but once feedback opens, it offers relief.
Positive feedback has been uncomfortable. I don’t trust a positive response. It contradicts the deeply rooted and painfully stubborn beliefs I’ve carried for a long time.
“Not good enough” — rakes a familiar stern voice that shrinks me invisible.
I’ve come a long way. In fact, I thought I had put those beliefs to rest. But not quite—it turns out.
It’s been therapeutic for sure. I’m facing, to yet another degree, a fear related to the value of me in the world. What possible interest is there in anything I have to write about? No idea. But there’s one way to find out, so the journey continues.
What I AM comfortable with is the creative process. It’s where I prefer to be. I like this quality in myself but it also, I sense, ties to a fear of sharing something outside of myself. So, I’m considering this writing process as an exercise in completion. Something I also wouldn’t be doing without the help of the group and our coach. Truth is, I can’t recommend finding a writing group enough for anyone who wants to write. It’s kept me accountable, the solitary writing process (which I love) is deepened and supported by the shared experience of others, and it’s just really fun to get together.
My creative process in the first draft most needed my trust, curiosity, and vulnerability.
Trust – in the process. It was hell at times. It took me for a downward ride for a while. There were old stories surfacing, stories I didn’t like feeling. They made new connections in the story. They found, in a way, a place outside of me to come to life again. It was exhausting. At the same time, I couldn’t stop writing. Whatever was happening, despite the heaviness or resistance that came up, I knew it was positive. I knew intuitively and from experience. I have learnt to trust the process when it comes to art. Or takes us places we might not expect, or even know exist, but it is discovery and growth I wouldn’t want to live without.
Curiosity – with the story and myself. Curiosity allowed whatever story was there to find its way out. Curiosity doesn’t judge. It wonders, it listens, and it learns—which means I do too. It also makes the whole process fun.
Vulnerability – aided by trust and curiosity, and a warm non judgmental writing group, this was the most challenging for me. The vulnerability for me was primarily felt in the externalization of what I quietly hide inside. There were some readings with the group where I asked my son to read what I was sharing first. I deeply trust his feedback in writing. But his nod of approval for me being me—and he knew this—was the confidence boost I most needed. He knows I’ve been relearning to be me in the world as I embrace the neurodivergent aspects of myself. Essentially, it is all of me—it is the naked self I’m still shy to share, and where I feel most vulnerable.
This hidden world of mine comes out in the story. It’s all fiction, but the truth in the fiction, is real. It’s me.
Why the picture of me by the sea? It was an unforgettable trip I just returned from, and it’s where the ending to my story found me.