You have my respect for thinking out loud, Danny. And my sympathies for being a fiction writer. It’s all liminal, brother. Unfortunate for the soul. Fortunate for the soul. Strung out over the abyss. Though we convince ourselves, we don’t need to know the onward path - one step enough (paraphrasing the man). Finishing a novel is like being shipwrecked. The supply drop of life saving mojitos will take time to arrive. Just don’t get me started on publishing.
I feel what you're going through more than you know! I'm a musician, so, after working on an album, it's the same? - then as an artist you need to refill by just 'being' to allow inspiration...which appears like a slimy fish to contain!
And all the administrative nuts and bolts etc, work yeach - then you're expected to carry on writing blogs?
I think then it's probably better to be 'real' or yourself? thats all you can be? The release of something creative is also like a birth but also a 'loss' sharing it with the world
That's what I find anyway, like I'm taking too long to create another - fact is I'm waiting for the 'right' piece of work, direction to run with!
Hi Danny! I just discovered your Substack through Notes. While our situations are a bit different, I often feel between two worlds as well: the university where I work and teach and my desire to write and publish for a public audience. But, then, on days like today, I often find myself wondering why I’m writing on Substack and if my energies (writing and otherwise) wouldn’t be better spent somewhere else. It’s all a bit maddening (and so I apologize for not offering anything helpful in my response!). Anyway, I’m looking forward to discovering more of your work. I see you have video interviews on your Substack, which I typically love watching, so I’m excited to check those out. I hope you keep writing here!
In my storied younger years I wrote a novel for the wife of a deceased friend. I'll duck under the drama of the circumstances here and focus on the emotional heap I found myself sitting atop when finished. Reflecting on my state back then, it was not a time for clear-headed decisions. I was a mess. In my mid-thirties I completed a novel. What I recall is catharsis, confusion and running on an empty tank emotionally for some time. I was neither prideful, purposeful or even present in the father, spouse, fellow-working stiff categories. My point is that there is a toll taken in the effort that I did not expect. And here is my point. Respect this period. Ride it out. Make notes and plans. Everything jells like pudding eventually. In between-time, just don't buy a motorcycle or a boat or pursue "the strength to force the moment to its crisis." Just my cent and half.
PS - The book I wrote back then was undertaken as a favor to a friend. I used a few notes I found. It was nothing of which to be proud as a writer. It is in a box in a closet and might be better set on fire. I take no pride in the quality of the writing, but can attest to the emotional toll in the work. I have not read your book Danny. But knowing the person you are, my guess is that there is much more of the man in the work. Be good and gentle to that guy. He's worth it!
I can relate to much of what you said here, Danny. This quote in particular: "I have not replaced my silence here with new fiction (aside from some notetaking for a new novel)."
Dedicating ridiculously small amounts of time to fiction writing is what's kept me going over the past decades of writing fiction. When I was really motivated (and sure I'd be the next Stephen King) I was much more prolific. Now (after accepting reality), I write when I feel like it. But I try to keep the practice of writing fiction in small chunks, usually 15 minutes most weekdays. It feels good to know that it's done early in the morning. I feel victorious, even if it was only a few hundred words captured.
I hope you don't give up either your newsletter or writing fiction--I'm already looking forward to your book and really enjoy your articles here.
You have my respect for thinking out loud, Danny. And my sympathies for being a fiction writer. It’s all liminal, brother. Unfortunate for the soul. Fortunate for the soul. Strung out over the abyss. Though we convince ourselves, we don’t need to know the onward path - one step enough (paraphrasing the man). Finishing a novel is like being shipwrecked. The supply drop of life saving mojitos will take time to arrive. Just don’t get me started on publishing.
I feel what you're going through more than you know! I'm a musician, so, after working on an album, it's the same? - then as an artist you need to refill by just 'being' to allow inspiration...which appears like a slimy fish to contain!
And all the administrative nuts and bolts etc, work yeach - then you're expected to carry on writing blogs?
I think then it's probably better to be 'real' or yourself? thats all you can be? The release of something creative is also like a birth but also a 'loss' sharing it with the world
That's what I find anyway, like I'm taking too long to create another - fact is I'm waiting for the 'right' piece of work, direction to run with!
Hi Danny! I just discovered your Substack through Notes. While our situations are a bit different, I often feel between two worlds as well: the university where I work and teach and my desire to write and publish for a public audience. But, then, on days like today, I often find myself wondering why I’m writing on Substack and if my energies (writing and otherwise) wouldn’t be better spent somewhere else. It’s all a bit maddening (and so I apologize for not offering anything helpful in my response!). Anyway, I’m looking forward to discovering more of your work. I see you have video interviews on your Substack, which I typically love watching, so I’m excited to check those out. I hope you keep writing here!
In my storied younger years I wrote a novel for the wife of a deceased friend. I'll duck under the drama of the circumstances here and focus on the emotional heap I found myself sitting atop when finished. Reflecting on my state back then, it was not a time for clear-headed decisions. I was a mess. In my mid-thirties I completed a novel. What I recall is catharsis, confusion and running on an empty tank emotionally for some time. I was neither prideful, purposeful or even present in the father, spouse, fellow-working stiff categories. My point is that there is a toll taken in the effort that I did not expect. And here is my point. Respect this period. Ride it out. Make notes and plans. Everything jells like pudding eventually. In between-time, just don't buy a motorcycle or a boat or pursue "the strength to force the moment to its crisis." Just my cent and half.
PS - The book I wrote back then was undertaken as a favor to a friend. I used a few notes I found. It was nothing of which to be proud as a writer. It is in a box in a closet and might be better set on fire. I take no pride in the quality of the writing, but can attest to the emotional toll in the work. I have not read your book Danny. But knowing the person you are, my guess is that there is much more of the man in the work. Be good and gentle to that guy. He's worth it!
I can relate to much of what you said here, Danny. This quote in particular: "I have not replaced my silence here with new fiction (aside from some notetaking for a new novel)."
Dedicating ridiculously small amounts of time to fiction writing is what's kept me going over the past decades of writing fiction. When I was really motivated (and sure I'd be the next Stephen King) I was much more prolific. Now (after accepting reality), I write when I feel like it. But I try to keep the practice of writing fiction in small chunks, usually 15 minutes most weekdays. It feels good to know that it's done early in the morning. I feel victorious, even if it was only a few hundred words captured.
I hope you don't give up either your newsletter or writing fiction--I'm already looking forward to your book and really enjoy your articles here.
Sometimes the muse takes a smoke break.
Isn't it kinda the point to be asking "what's the point"?