Don’t Finish Your Book
By Guest | August 3, 2021 |
Please welcome back former contributor and friend to Writer Unboxed today, Allison Larkin! Allison is the internationally bestselling author of the novels Stay, Why Can’t I Be You, and Swimming for Sunlight. Her short fiction has been published in the Summerset Review and Slice, and nonfiction in the anthologies, I’m Not the Biggest Bitch in This Relationship and Writer Unboxed’s own book, Author in Progress.
Allison’s latest novel, The People We Keep, releases today! Several of us have been lucky enough to read advance copies and can attest that it’s a beautiful coming-of-age story, and the buzz over it is well-deserved. Said Booklist in their review of the book: “Larkin has created a memorable character in April, whose journey toward belonging and self-acceptance will resonate with readers. The depiction of the mid-1990s is pitch-perfect and will invoke feelings of nostalgia, especially in Gen Xers who came of age during this era. Fans of Caitlin Moran’s How to Build a Girl will enjoy traveling alongside April.” —Booklist (starred review)
We’re so glad she’s with us today to explain how The People We Keep, a book that simmered and stewed with Allison for over 15 years, evolved as she did. Learn more about it on her website, and by following her on Twitter.
Don’t Finish Your Book
I first met April Sawicki in 2006 while I was writing a different book. Two songs on my playlist shuffled together managed to jostle something in my brain, and suddenly, there was April, taking up my full attention. It felt like she was flashing in my mind, calling, “Over here! Over here! I need you!”
She was nineteen and wily. She observed carefully and felt deeply, but few of the constellations of thoughts in her mind ever came out of her mouth. She played guitar and traveled. She wanted a home, but staying in one place would mean she’d eventually have to face herself, and that was terrifying.
I tried to get back to the book I was already writing about a woman named Van and a dog named Joe, but April wasn’t going to leave me alone. I didn’t want her to. I was fascinated. I wrote down everything I could about her. When I reached the end of those ideas, I asked myself questions about what happened before that and realized her story needed to start when she was sixteen. I did eventually get back to that novel about Van and Joe. I finished it, and it became my first book, but April never stopped calling to me.
Today is the pub day for THE PEOPLE WE KEEP, my novel about April Sawicki. Since that first evening when she popped into my head, I’ve published three other novels. I’ve been officially in the business for twelve years and have had five agents and four editors. I spent more than a decade fighting to find the right home for this book. April’s novel is exactly the story I wanted to tell, the way I wanted to tell it, and has been cared for by an agent and editor and packaged by a publisher who understand this book completely.
It was a long, harrowing path to find the right home for April, sometimes painful. My confidence took brutal hits, and it was arduous work to heal my heart and try again (and again, and again). I have often wished things had been easier. But what I’ve been thinking about in the past few weeks is that if the path to publishing THE PEOPLE WE KEEP had been even ten percent easier, I wouldn’t have fought so hard for April, and the book that resulted wouldn’t have told the story this character deserved. I also would not have had the benefit of so much time with her. I was twenty-nine when I started writing about April and forty-four when I turned in the final manuscript. I wrote at least one significant draft every year, often several.
As much as the business of this book was a painful process, writing April and getting to live with her in my mind for so long has been one of my greatest joys. I was writing from April’s teenage perspective, in first person, present tense, but over the years, as my own perspective expanded, I could see more nuanced discrepancies between April’s understanding of a situation and the realities she faced. I could write tiny details April was able to observe but couldn’t yet process, so readers would be able to gather clues to understand more about April’s circumstances than she did. I got to insert layers between layers and find new meaning in the work as the years progressed.
I think we place too much importance on finishing work and publishing work. The weight of an unfinished project is a shame we put on ourselves and shame we cast on each other. I used to keep it somewhat secret that I start projects without hesitation. When a character shows up in my mind, I write everything I can about them until I hit a wall. Someone I used to work with always acted like I was flaky because I had so many started projects —as if all the ideas somehow made me unreliable. I felt that shame. I carried it, and it was really freaking heavy. And stupid. I reliably meet deadlines when I have them. I also have a lot of ideas. Those started projects mean that I have many characters who have been incubating in my mind, accumulating layers and depths. They are my assets, not my shame. If I’d forced myself to finish one project before starting another, too many of those ideas would be lost now.
I do understand the varying levels of necessity that are tied to completing a project. I completed three other books in the time it took me to get to the end result of THE PEOPLE WE KEEP. Those characters didn’t need the time that April did, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, but I’m thankful that the path of this project created the space it needed. I wouldn’t have engineered this time for myself at the start, but the hardship of finding the right home for this novel bought me time, and the time was valuable.
I wish I had understood that the work and the process of the work were valuable all along, regardless of an end result. On one level, my heart knew it was. April took my breath away. I couldn’t deny her an existence. But I wish I could go back and erase that other level that burned with shame over not reaching some kind of timely finish line.I wish I had politely told the shamers where they could shove that shame. Or at the very least, not allowed myself to absorb it.
If you’re not blowing off any deadlines, who cares if you don’t finish your book in a year, or five, or ten? Who cares if it takes a lifetime? The purpose of writing is not just to finish something. The act of creating is important in and of itself. If creating stories is your joy, give yourself full permission to enjoy it. I’m not happy with this book because it’s done. I’m happy with this book because it’s everything I’d hoped it would be, and I got to spend fifteen years with this beautiful person in my mind, wrapped up in love for a creative project. When I was bored, or sad, or tired of living in my own brain, I got to think about how April would see a situation, where she might be, or how she might be feeling. I would stand in line at the grocery store and study the people around me through her eyes instead of my own. My mind had a place to go, and that place was a comfort. She was always there for me. The time I had with April was good for my writing, but it was good for my heart too, and that’s important. She lent me her momentum when I couldn’t find my own and pulled me through so many difficult times. She was just as valid then as she is now as a character in a finished book because she has always mattered to me. She brought me joy, and I am allowed to enjoy my life.
So, I’m urging you to love your unfinished projects. Be proud of the things you’ve had the courage to start. Writing and publishing are two separate processes. You’re a writer if you engage in the process of writing. It doesn’t make you less of a writer to give your work the time it needs. There’s nothing wrong with starting one project before you’ve finished another. Finishing is not the only goal. Commit to completing projects when they’re ready to be finished if that’s a goal you have, but it’s also okay if all you ever do is start things and enjoy the rush of that beginning.
You get to decide what your goals are. This work is part of our lives, and writing a book takes a lot of life time. We should celebrate this beautiful thing our imagination does for us. We should love the process. We should enjoy ourselves.
WU’ers, how many unfinished projects occupy the dusty–or not so dusty–corners of your mind? How often do you work on them? What do they teach you? How have they changed over time? The floor is yours.
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
“I think we place too much importance on finishing work and publishing work. The weight of an unfinished project is a shame we put on ourselves and shame we cast on each other.”
Wow. Allie, this is perhaps one of the most personally significant things I’ve read about writing lately, as I am in a 6+ year journey with my own novel now. It’s a baby, really—my debut took me 8 years and the only way I pulled off writing the next one in 10 months was that I’d been turning it over in my mind for 17 years! I just sorta thought I’d get faster at this. Don’t know why, as I’ve always been a deep thinker and a slow typist!
And this:
“ You’re a writer if you engage in the process of writing.”
That reminds me of something a teacher said a few years ago as I struggled to achieve balance in a very shaky yoga pose: “If you are trying, and breathing, you are doing yoga.” That comment helped me finally shake off the chains of perfectionism that kept me from enjoying the benefits of yoga.
I have a short writing retreat coming up, if Covid allows, Andy’s my shame has been heavy, I so appreciate your encouragement to continue to love the process. I’m not done with these characters yet. They’re there even when I actively try not to think about them, a fact to which numerous notes on my cell phone can attest.
Congrats on the new book and I look forward to reading the story that is wrapped in so many layers of your love.
Hi Allie–Wonderful essay. I’m so happy for you. I’m happy for April, too–finally making her way into the world, becoming a part of other people’s lives. I haven’t met her yet, but from what I know that seems rightful.
You mention the shame that we all feel. In the writerly world, there’s plenty to go around. I mean, we’re experts at feeling deeply, and imaging how others are feeling about us, and then feeling deeply about that. I’m well-aware that much of this shame is conjured from little more than the dust-motes, floating in the offices that we shamefully avoid cleaning.
Me? I’ve got the “it’s taking forever” shame. The “can’t find a publisher who gets it” shame?–check! I could go on, but I don’t want to stray from the point (I’m already heading into “TLDR comment” shame territory). But here’s one your insightful essay made me realize I carry. I have “working for over a decade, but only on one project” shame.
Granted, it’s a major project–a sprawling, multi-generational one. But still just the one series, in the same world with the same set of characters. People ask me things like: “So what other stories are you working on? What other sorts of things are you writing/do you want to write?” Makes my face tingle just thinking about having to answer: “Nope, just the one. Not really working on, or thinking about, anything else.”
In fact, I’ve been finding lately that the hope that takes me as close actual prayer as I get is that I keep my faculties long enough to finish this one. This one project.
Thanks for sharing an important message. Heading straight off to get my copy of The People We Keep. Congratulations!
Right there with you, Vaughn
I concur 100%. There’s no hurry. Time and distance reveal so much unused potential in a manuscript.
The one I am revisiting now is a treasure trove. I love feeling, “I can’t believe I didn’t see that before!” It’s like simmering my tomato sauce for an extra long time. The flavor gets deeper and richer, as if the secret ingredient is patience.
Here’s the thing, though. I can afford to be patient. After twenty books (under other names) I have nothing I need to prove. I Have only regret. I wish that earlier in my writing career I had gone slower.
To those who are currently feeling pub pressure, please know that Allie is right. There is no rush. Take your time, you’ll be glad to did. Looking forward to meeting April, Allie. Great to see you at WU again.
The series I’m writing took hold in my mind, if I’m honest, more than twenty five years ago, but in a very different form. That one story has spawned a prequel, a sequel, and two books in between. I’m not sure whether I grapple more with shame, frustration, or anxiety (Am I pathetic? Will I ever be done??) but all are equally debilitating. You are so right about the joy, though, because when I’m immersed in writing, that’s what I feel. I, too, have a character who teaches me about not giving up. You reminded me today to be grateful for all of it. I can’t wait to meet April!
Beautiful, perfect advice, Allison. Congrats on The People We Keep, and April’s story, and on knowing how to claim the writing career you want and that fulfills you, not the one anyone else thinks you should have.
What a beautiful story of perseverance, Allison, and of understanding that April’s story wouldn’t have the same depth or layers had you forced it earlier. I also have a novel like this, which has grown over the years with me with untold layers. Why some stories must percolate for years, whereas others come quickly is a mystery to me, but I am discovering that stories come to fruition at the right time. Thank you for reminding me there’s no shame either way. Congratulations!!! I’m looking forward to meeting April.
I love this, Allie! This line especially resonated with me: “They are my assets, not my shame.” There are so many harmful “shoulds” that circulate in publishing and they tend to suck the joy out of what usually starts as a fun process. Thanks for this.
Congratulations on finding the perfect home for your book, and happy release day!
That was exactly the line that stood out to me, Gwen, though it was in the company of many others.
Allie, this is seriously one of the most positive, life-affirming posts on writing I’ve ever read. You just vanquished about twenty years of personal ghostly whispers. Thank you, my friend!
I’ve already bought my copy and can’t wait to dig into the book you fought for so passionately. I’m glad your April found her home.
That was the quote that made me tingle. So good and so true. Allie, thanks so much for this perspective that I’ve been feeling so deeply and have kept under wraps, even from myself. Your words made me exhale. The character I’m writing has been with me, haunting me for 20 years and I’ve realized that I needed to live more and perfect my storytelling so that I would be ready when she was. Gosh I would have saved myself a boatload of shame had I known that earlier!
Congratulations on your book! I look forward to meeting April and you.
Allison, I previewed your book. Awesome, love the voice. I couldn’t stop reading. It is going on my list to read.
You put in tags at the perfect time making the story play music to my ears.
Thank you for this. It perfectly sums up how I feel sometimes. I hope I’ve given my story and characters the time needed when I’m finally finished. Good luck on your new release!
This resonated with me. Thanks!
“The weight of an unfinished project is a shame we put on ourselves and shame we cast on each other.”
Oof, yes.
“I wish I had understood that the work and the process of the work were valuable all along, regardless of an end result.”
Thank you. I need to try and remember that too.
Thank you for this entire post, which I would like to tattoo on my heart. It resonates so deeply with me.