In a recent Shared Desk, I talked with Tee Morris and Lauren Harris about quitting on a book. It’s a fun podcast about quite a hard decision. Have a listen if you haven’t already.
However I decided to go into it in bit more depth, since it is a big decision for an author. When should you put a novel away for just some time, and when should you can quits on it completely?
I have trunked many novels, oh so many novels. Usually there is something wrong with the story, and I know it, but can’t quite put my finger on it. So I tuck it away, find something else to work on and get back to it. A little distance from a project, letting it stew if you will, often lets my brain process it, and I can circle back around to it at a later date.
I have never—until now—realized that there is something more fundamentally wrong with it.
This story about Hollywood and Sumerian gods came to me about two years ago. I loved the concept, the characters popped right away, but even when I started writing it, I realized it was a problem child. No big panic. So I put it away as I have done with other books, and decided to come back to it later. And I did. More chapters came out, some of them forced, but I managed to get to about 58,000 words.
Not bad and a good portion of the way to my goal. However, once again it wasn’t feeling right. The characters and concept were still interesting, but the plot was wandering in and out, becoming something else. So away it went again. No problem it would sort itself out I told myself.
By the time I circled back to it again however, and I felt something different, but something familiar.
When I was a kid of about ten, I once got into a battle of wills with my parents over eating vegetables—like many kids do. I popped some broccoli in my mouth and immediately went to spit it out. At my grandparents table that wouldn’t do, I was told to finish it rather than spit it out. Defiantly, I kept chewing, and chewing, and chewing, and chewing. Let me tell you, broccoli does not get any taster the more you chew it. In fact it only becomes almost impossible to gag down. It is so bad I never forgot the sensation.
As it turned out, that was how this Hollywood story was feeling. I had chewed and chewed so much, that there was no taste in it. I had lost passion for it, and worse still I knew there was something deeply, deeply wrong with it.
The more I forced myself to write the less I liked it. I still loved the idea and the characters, but the plot was getting less and less tasty. That was when I realized I was going to have to get rid of the words. Unlike the broccoli I could actually spit it out.
That was a hard decision though. For a writer every word constitutes time and effort put forth, and even when I have cut out scenes, I have kept them. I’ve gone back, reused, reworked scenes. So throwing away 58,000 words is painful.
It’s something no writer wants to do, and I’ve never been in this position, but there it is. Rather than trunking the novel, this one had to be taken outside and go to the great word heaven. Yep, as said I had to Old Yeller the poor thing. Like that poor lad in the book and the movie, I have to take care of the fate of my own words.
Now, that is not to say I won’t write the book, since there are elements I still love, but I need to put some more time between that old, tastless creation, and something new.
Is this something I would recommend for everyone? No, this is a big red button of last resort, and something I wouldn’t recommend to a writer who has never finished a book before. My own first book was an apprentice piece, it wasn’t pretty, but I learned a lot from doing it. Most of all I had to finish that one to know that I could.
This Old Yeller situation I find myself in now is totally different. I know I can finish a book. I know I have the craft to make good stories. And just as conclusively I just know this one needs to be rebuilt from the ground up.
If you are thinking of taking your book out like this, please think carefully. Look at it critically, try several times and ways to fix it. Avoid ditching words if you can. However there is a point where you have chewed too long, there is nothing left, and you are going to have to make a sacrifice.
I finally reached that point when I realized I was chasing my tail and wasting time writing words that didn’t work.
Sorry Old Yeller. I’ve got to move on and find new words. I’ll make a New Yeller some day and think of you.