writing a novel is hell 😈
Although I’ve been told to go to hell, I’ve never been there.
I imagine it looks like high school.
I hated high school.
Hated it with the fiery passion as only a teenager has the endless energy to hate.
If given a chance to go back and be myself at 16 again, I’d be like, “Does it involve going back to high school? Yes? Then nope. I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a flaming spork while listening to kazoo music.”
I was a terrible student.
I did the minimum amount of work to get a passing grade.
I missed the maximum amount of days without getting expelled.
I never went to the principal's office or had a Breakfast Club detention weekend.
(I was somewhere between a John Bender and Claire Standish archetype.)
I imagine most of my teachers weren’t even aware that I was in their class.
A disinterested teenager, I hid in the back of the classroom, not caring if anyone noticed me.
I attended four (five?) different schools in the city because I didn’t want to stand still in the same place for 4 years.
(I imagined, but never went to boarding school. If I could have afforded it, I probably would have tried that out too.)
I did enough work to graduate. That was it.
College? Nope. Wasn’t ready.
After graduation, I took a year off. I got a job. I went to art school. I dropped out and went to film school. Then Community College. Eventually, when I was ready to do the work, I went to university.
Last week I had a wonderful call with a writer.
Thirty minutes into our chat, I realized she didn’t want to write the novel we were talking about.
Not because she can’t…
She finished the foundational work.
She has a full working outline put together.
She started writing the draft.
She know how to be disciplined (she’s written and published three other novels).
BUT... There’s “something” holding her back. She’s not “sparked” like she was with the other novels.
“My audience is waiting,” she told me. “It’s been over a year since my last book in the series. I NEED to write this story. But when I sit down to write it… I can’t. I haven’t looked at the outline in months. I’d rather clean the toilet. If I hire you, can you help me FINALLY get this done?”
“No.” It wasn’t easy for me to say that. “I can’t.”
“No?”
“If you don’t want to write it — don’t. I’m not going to force you. I can’t. I can help you when you’re ready to write it, but right now? Not happening.”
I’m never going to tell someone they have to write a book they don't want to write.
I’m a Write A Book Coach not a Pay Me To Make You Do Shit You Hate Coach.
Sometimes, being a book coach is about telling a writer, “You’re not ready."
Writing a novel is hell, but it’s a hell you should want to be in.
Keep going.
Xoxo
Jocelyn
P.S. You may be wondering what my parents thought of all my high school shenanigans…
They wanted me to graduate somehow, somewhere, eventually.
See, I have older brothers who were having their own wild adventures.
As long as I wasn’t getting in trouble (like mistakenly locked in a Costa Rican jail **cough** brother #3 **cough**), they were pretty happy to entertain my comparatively tame high school nomad days.
Hello!
My name is Jocelyn.
Story warrior, book lover, day dreamer, gardener, and creative. I help serious writers roll up their sleeves, get their novel ready for publishing, and reach readers. When I’m not elbow-deep in the story trenches, I’m outside world-building in my garden and battling weeds with my three criminal mastermind cats.
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