I am about to enter a scary phase in every author’s life: the push to the finish of a novel—in my case, my third, The Storyteller’s Bracelet. It’s got me in a very contemplative mood; my characters have not behaved as I expected them to, and the entire story has turned out to be something other than what I envisioned when I wrote my first words.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The same thing happened when I wrote Redeeming Grace, my first novel (recently re-released as On the Choptank Shores). Only in The Cabin did my characters do what I expected them to do, and even then, it was only most of the time. They threw me for a loop more than once.
I think that’s probably a good thing. Characters know where they want to go, what their true story is, better than their authors, I’ve decided. And I know more than one author who agrees with me.
When Scott and I went camping in Kings Canyon in October, I took great delight in photographing sap oozing out of a tree, and I got to thinking, when I looked at the photos for the first time, how like that tree and its sap I and my words are, when I’m working on a novel. Sometimes, the sap oozes gently from the tree, a drop at a time, like this:
Sap oozing gently from the tree.
My words, too, often are painfully slow passing from fingertip to keyboard to page. They are beautiful words. They just flow slowly.
Other times, the sap gets stuck along the way. In this tree’s case, the sap got hung up in a spider web.
Stuck
In my case, my words have gotten stuck when I’ve become seriously depressed, due to prolonged illness or injury or surgery recuperation. This has frightened me a few times, because I’ve felt like I might never finish this book; that I might never write again.
But without fail, I come out of that dark spot that lurks inside me, and eventually my words become disentangled from my inner web that has held it captive, just as the sap burst free from the spider’s web:
Free at last!
Sometimes, the sap completely dries up, forming a hard resin on the tree. It’s beautiful to look at, but it goes nowhere.
Sap dries to a hard resin, while behind it, droplets still run freely.
I’ve written some beautiful scenes for this book that ended up going nowhere, and that I’ve had to delete.
But sometimes, the sap runs like a river down the tree, just as my words flow like a river from my fingertips. It’s an exciting time, this free flow of sap, of words.
Sap running quickly, freely.
I’ve given myself six weeks to finish this book. May my words continue to flow like the sap from this tree, freely, joyfully, beautifully.
What a beautiful post, Smoky. I, too, hope your words continue to flow freely. We need another Smoky Zeidel book in the world.
Melinda, thank you. That was a lovely thing to tell me.
Smoky,
Absolutely, characters rule! In my opinion, a good writer’s relationship with her characters is based on trust. You must be wise enough to listen to them. You must be brave to cut beloved (but wrong in the place/time) prose. And you must endure the different sap-flows from the tree of creativity (Oh my word! …I’d have to cut that line!) LOL. Look forward to the new book!
Teresa
tkthorne.com
Thanks, T.K. Your cut line sentence gave me a good giggle!
Wow, Smoky, this is such a gorgeous analogy and rings true to my own writing process. A happy and satisfying finale to you!
Sharon
Thanks, Sharon. I have a book review to write before the final push, but I’ll be working on that today and tomorrow. Whose book? Why, yours, of course!
I don’t know where the words come from en route to a book. Since I don’t know, I wonder if they will flow when I sit down at my desk. They do flow like sap or–in my private anology–like rivers and the story moves. Sometimes the words don’t flow. I don’t know if it’s sap in a spiderweb or a river blocked by a new beaver dam or mean pixies. I think, well, that’s all “she” wrote and decide maybe I’ll go into the truck driving biz, but then always when I’m about to do that, one of my characters asks when we’re all getting back to the story. In her wise post, Dani Shapiro said we writers start new every day. I know. I know the words aren’t always there. But when they are, it makes up for all the depression and doubting.
Malcolm
The river analogy with a beaver dam blocking it is a good one. I’m just hoping your characters will soon start pestering you to write another Sun Singer sequel.
So far, I’m ignoring them.
Never, ever ignore your muse. They have magical powers–and they don’t always use them for the good!
What a beautiful analogy! And I am so glad I am not the only one who is, to a degree, ruled by her characters.
Thanks, Yvonne. While I was still teaching, my students would always look puzzled–or look at me like I was out of my mind–when I’d tell them characters can dictate the story. But every once in a while, a student would come into class one day, all excited, and say, “It happened–you were right!”
Always was a rewarding thing, when that happened.