I’m in a literary bind of my own making. I decided to write a novel — a literary novel not a humorous one as you might expect from me. When you read a literary novel, you have to check the dictionary at least once a page and invent theories about what the author really means because he certainly is not going to tell you.
I have written 150,000 words so far, about a novel’s worth. I’d be happy to stop except the main protagonist, the character whose adventure inspired this novel, has only just now entered the story as a tiny fetus in his mother’s womb. Not exactly what you’d call a developed character. Yes, the mother stole the story from her own son! I suspect this is not the first time that’s happened, in fiction or in life.
Several times, characters that I breathed life into have hijacked my intended plot and run off in another direction. I had to lock one character in the closet for three chapters just to calm her down and get back control of the story.
My novel has developed a life of its own. Every chapter opens a new aspect of the plot that needs several more chapters to develop or close off. The two fingers that do most of my typing are complaining of neuro-muscular ailments with official sounding Latin names — the kind that are printed in italics so you know they’re AMA approved.
Something had to be done, and so I invited my novel, tentatively titled “Perfect Parts,” to sit down with me and have a heart-to-heart about our future together.
John Philipp: I’d like a few minutes of your time, if I may.
“Perfect Parts”: Sure, I’m not going anywhere.
JP: That’s what I want to talk with you about. You aren’t going anywhere. Aren’t you tired of carrying around unresolved conflicts? Isn’t it about time for, say, a denouement?
PP: No, I’m cool.
JP: You are very cool. So cool, in fact, I’m feeling quite selfish not sharing you with the world.
PP: I’m fine. I’m growing and flexing my literary muscles. Why would I want to submit to a punishing edit, get red ink all over my pristine white pages and get strapped, squeezed and glued into a restrictive binding?
JP: For one thing, I have other stories I want to write.
PP: Other stories? Well just look at you, Mr. dilettante, sneaking around with other literati, pen in hand. That’s why you want this to end.
JP: It’s nothing personal. We have a nice little family here. But there comes a time when every parent must kick the kids out of the nest.
PP: Ooh, that’s cold.
JCP: It’s not that I don’t love you. I want to give you a chance to spread your wings and fly. I feel I’m tying you down with endless plotlines.
PP: Truthfully, some of that is my fault. I’d rather remain in the draft stage. The womb is comfortable. I have everything I need: heroes, villains, conflict, suspense and a few characters with lovable quirks surround me. And I have a talking teddy bear named Monsieur Flaubert that’s very cute and very wise. I love that bear.
JP: I didn’t want it to come to this. Unless you can help me wrap this up I’ll need to institute an austerity program.
PP: Austerity, what’s that? You haven’t typed that word before.
JP: It would mean reducing your resources. Less computer time, limited dictionary access and I’m afraid the thesaurus would have to stay on the shelf.
PP: Roget won’t like that one bit.
JP: What do you say, finish in a non-cliché, memorable ending or subsist in a dungeon of one and two-syllable words?
PP: What if no one wants me? Word is that there’s a lot of that going on.
JP: Then I’ll publish you as an e-book. Very high-tech. Very au courant.
PP: I changed my mind. I’m ready to wrap up. But no more e-book talk. OK?
This Week's Ponder: If a book about failures doesn't sell, is it a success?
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Comments: 65
Thanks.
Damn Skippy it is a success. This is California. We make fiction real.
Humor..... Yes we all need it.... Sometimes its just not that easy to find it.
As for your question, how can it be a success if no one has read it?
Excellent post, John.
And I am assuming if we now Google "Writer in the Womb" this article will pop up.
Someone once said that our novels are not our babies. No, they're not. They're much more personal than that. I say that person has never written a novel, and if they have, it was the most impersonal, emotionless tripe ever written. Hang in there, John. It's all worth it. (And just have to point out that 150,000 words are enough for two novels... It sounds like you're working on a family saga series to me.)
When I ponder on failure I succeed at nothing.
Stay Away From Magic Shows
:+)
But, you are so lucky? 150,000 words? Finally a book of the length I'd rather do mine. Can't be done. Middle-Grade book and I'm pushing it at 60,000 words. Literary? Doesn't that mean the fetus can grow up for another 50,000-100,000 words?
And, sure, your book talks too. That's easy. But what if you had to face Monsieur Flaubert every day? Okay, granted, half of my characters aren't talking teddy bears. They're other kinds of stuffed animals, but I live with them, in the literal sense. Sure, they don't talk and move in the literal sense, but I've been writing about their lives for eight years now. Have you ever had a teddy bear stare at you? They really don't have to say anything else, when you're making them take a dreaded b-a-t-h in the story. Heaven forbid, you damage the fur just in the story. The look is enough. ;)
But, be kind. Never put the Thesaurus on the shelf. That's just mean. lol
Shows your work stands the test of time, John :-)
I have decided therefore to stick the protagonist in at the very first line since he might get abandoned by me several times. I had been advising my two daughters that the best way to write a novel length story is to clump several short stories together. The stories need not relate to each other, only a character or two from each story need to communicate with each other. They don't even need to meet. That might create several protagonists, so the other short stories will have to be very brief and/or I must involve the protagonist in all the other stories.
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