A Book Takes as Long as it Takes

(which might be a very long time)

Writing a novel takes as long as it takes. Which is usually a long time.

And you are the age you are. There’s no changing that.

People say, “Don’t give up! Never quit!” But here’s the thing: you can quit right now. You can decide not to write this novel. Or any novel. It’s important not to be afraid of this fact. In fact, try it. When the whole process is getting you down and you feel stuck or discouraged or wonder whether the whole thing is worth it, say to yourself, I Quit. See how it feels.

My guess is that if, as a writer, you have gotten as far as trying to write a novel, I Quit is going to feel hollow and empty. It’s not going to feel like relief from an arduous task. It’s going to feel like a void has opened up in your life. Like the world has lost a dimension, and it’s all making sandwiches and going to work and putting gas in the car and watching TV forever and ever, amen. And that’s going to feel wrong.

So then, you get back to writing.

It takes as long as it takes. And there is no guarantee that when you’re done anything in particular will happen. No guarantee that anyone will read it or love it or care about it. It is totally understandable that writers ask, why the fuck am I spending so much of my time on this thing?

Perfectly reasonable question. Answer: Because you are a writer. And writing takes the time it takes.

If you must write, if you think about your story constantly, if you feel irritable and antsy if you don’t at least get a minute to write things down, then it’s not that you must keep going because you can’t “quit.” You keep going because you can’t not keep going.

And if that’s the case, then you must do what the work needs. Even if you thought you were done with the story or the novel. Even if it would be so much easier to just say, it’s fine and and write The End. Thing is, there’s a big difference between fine and done.

Again, try it: say to yourself, It’s fine, and move on. Try to ignore that feeling that there is a problem that needs to be fixed, or that something isn’t quite right. I guarantee that if you know there’s still work to do, you will be dogged by a nagging awareness that it’s not fine. It’s not done. Then you must do what the work needs. Even if the whole damn thing needs to be rewritten in past tense or from a different point of view. Even if it’s going to take fucking forever. (I know. I have been there.)

It’s good to recognize this pattern, take the time it takes, and save yourself the emotional energy of fighting it.

And yes, it will feel like forever. As Matt Bells craft book title says so succinctly, “Refuse To Be Done.” If you thought you were ready to send the book to literary agents, or to your editor, or just to write The End at the end, and you discover it needs more, then give it more. Take the time.

It is not too late. Luckily, writing fiction is one of the least ageist of the arts. I am convinced that agents and editors do not care how old you are. If you wrote a book like Where the Crawdads Sing, they do not care that you are sixty-something (which Delia Owens was).

Seriously. If you are older and thinking you don’t have time, I’m here to tell you to get going. Write the thing. I started seriously writing almost twenty years after taking a few college creative writing classes. I was 45. I immersed myself. I learned, and I learned hard. I wrote three novels, and at 51 the third one got me an agent. And three months after I turned 53, it was published and in Barnes & Noble and I happy-cried. I never happy-cry. It was fucking great. My second book will come out four days after I turn 54.

My third, who knows. It has taken so freaking long to get going on this one. So many false starts. Hundreds of thousands of words and notes and rumination and drafts and manuscripts that didn’t work. I gave up several times. Quit that novel. Tried to think of something else. I even wrote a breakup letter to my character. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t. So I kept going, time be damned, and I’m now halfway through the book, and this time I know it will go the distance. I know it will be a novel. The novel I wanted to write.

If you are younger and thinking you have to get to some goalpost or another by some arbitrary age point or other (e.g. I must get an agent by thirty), I’m here to tell you to fuck that noise. It’s not over until you’re dead. Seriously, it’s a very simple flowchart. Is it too late to write my novel? —>Are you dead?—>Yes—>It’s too late.

No—>It’s not too late.

Everyone wants to be the marvelous unicorn who succeeds beyond every expectation. The Athena Liu in R.F. Kuang’s Yellowface. The writer who is so wonderfully good that everything happens for them right away. Right on schedule. Of course we want that. It would be great. But if you don’t get it, you’re going to write the book anyway. Because you must. Because you’ll feel empty and antsy and unsatisfied if you don’t. Like something is missing from your life that keeps it from being complete.

If that’s the truth for you, then do the work. Write a book. Writer another book. Write a better book. Maybe you’ll be 30 or 40 or 53 by the time your first novel gets published. Maybe you’ll be 60 by the time you write The End and feel satisfied. Whatever. You’re going to be 30 or 40 or 53 or 60 anyway. And one day we’ll all be dead. Time is going to pass whether you write the book or not. The days are going to go by and you’re going to make the sandwiches and go to work and watch TV and do whatever you do with your time anyway. Time doesn’t care. So why not write the book? The book you want to write. (Because if you don’t want to, why bother?)

It takes the time it takes. We have the time we have.

What if you don’t “have time?” If you’re time is limited by other obligations, it might take longer—but it might not. Sometimes having limited time focuses the creative mind. Don’t wait until you “have time.” Write the book in the time you have. If it takes six months, great. If it takes years, whatever. Those years were going to pass anyway, and now you have a book.

How to Become a Writer

First, try to be something, anything else.

—Lorrie Moore…

When you realize you can’t not write, get back to work. It will be done when it’s done. It will be what it is. And you will either work on it more, or write the next book. This is just how the thing works.

Godspeed.