A Race Worth Running

Writing a novel is often compared to running a marathon because of the stamina it requires to press forward when you’re mentally and emotionally depleted.  Why continue when all inclinations tell you to stop the torturous journey for your own well-being and sanity?  It’s because the story is so important that it must be told no matter how long it takes to get it right, to finish it.  It’s a race that I’ve been running, walking, sometimes waiting to catch my breath and start again for over ten years.

The novel was inspired by stories my mother had shared of my great-great grandmother, an Englishwoman who fell in love with a man of African descent in Tortola, British Virgin Islands.  I don’t know the details of their union, which made me wonder how and why two people from different backgrounds would defy societal norms to be together.  I yearned to write a story that would capture the passion and urgency that must have existed, but I couldn’t do it.  I was overwhelmed by the daunting task.  When one of my co-worker’s recommended that I apply for the writing program at Johns Hopkins University, I did.  I was allowed entry on a provisional basis before being fully accepted, but regardless, I was determined to write.

My first draft of chapter one was unanimously disliked.  The choice of an omniscient narrator was not effective.  The use of island dialect was jarring.  It wasn’t easy receiving that feedback, but it was necessary.  I decided to have different point-of-view characters.  I continued writing, scaling back the use of dialect in terms of spelling but refusing to remove the rhythm of speaking.  The subsequent novel excerpts received better responses, not unanimous approval, but steps in the right direction.  It helped hearing that the story had promise because it’s a belief I share. 

I continued writing, scaling back the use of dialect in terms of spelling but refusing to remove the rhythm of speaking. 

Along the way, there were times I thought the work was finished.  I contacted agents, some of whom requested the first three chapters or the full manuscript only to politely reject it.  Now, the problem was that I had too many point-of-view-characters.  Who did the story belong to? The readers didn’t see a character arc that showed change or growth for all the perspectives.  At that time, I had grown attached to all my characters and re-edited the manuscript to make the changing viewpoints work.  My latest rejection from a small press was proof that those efforts were unsuccessful.

Take a break.  Put the manuscript aside.  Work on other projects.  All good advice that’s part of the recovery phase.  Catch your breath.  It’s the place I’m in and have been in for months, unsure if I have what it takes to tell this story.  The winding road ahead appears to have no end in sight.  If I stay in this phase, afraid to move, I will never see or get to the finish line.  It’s time to start running again.  The journey must continue.