writing and the wall

The story is not in the plot but in the telling.
- Ursula K. LeGuin

It’s an interesting position you’re placed in when you’re told that your story is well written, but it’s not quite working the way it should be…even though the writing is very good.

My revised Chapter 2 has been making the rounds this past week to great reviews and mixed reviews, but regardless of what camp the critique is coming from, everyone seems to agree that I’m a good writer. Which is great and all, but I know that. If I wasn’t a good writer, I’d be quite screwed, considering that writing is very much in my job description—all of them, for that matter, even the ones I have yet to start.

So then what’s the issue? Well, if you haven’t read the opening chapters of my novel, then it’s hard to explain in detail, and since I have quite a way to go in revising and even writing, I don’t think it’s yet time to divulge too much of the plot. What you do need to know is that it’s a YA book intended for both young adult and adult audiences, and it, hopefully, is a clever blend of fantasy, realism, and ghost story. That’s the idea, anyway.

Basically, though, the problems I’m running into are as follows – I narrate too much; I give too much away to the reader; I don’t give enough information; it’s not creepy enough; nothing has really happened yet; children might not have the patience for it; the plot seems formulaic; it’s not formulaic enough; where are the other characters; the main character has to be more interesting; more has to happen; slow things down…

Did you follow? Good, neither do I.

Well, I guess I do, in a way. Looking back on my two revised chapters, I see what everyone is saying, and then I don’t see it, and as I look at what I’ve written, and how well written it may be and yet not quite what I want, I notice that I’m beginning that dark descent into the writing chasms of self-doubt and trepidation. Suddenly, it’s no longer a question of when will I write it, but more a question of can I write it? What’s in my head, what’s slowly been gaining strength and real publishable potential since that day when I first thought about it while on vacation in Florida, that idea and plot and character, all that vivid imagery, I’m suddenly worried if I can really bring that alive on the pages for people other than myself to understand.

So I should panic, right? Perhaps, or at the very least, be sad for a short amount of time, but strangely enough, I’m not panicking or even a little sad. I’m just slightly confused, contemplative, and even kind of hesitant to make my next step (even though it will inevitably be tackling Chapter 3). See, I’ve been thinking, and I realize, what would I rather be right now: Worried that I don’t yet have a story? Or worried that I have two well-written chapters that need more work? Clearly, the latter.

Considering all the years I’ve gone without seeing my stories typed out on my computer screen, I’d say I’m pretty happy that I even have something to send out. So revise and rework I will, but most importantly, I just have to keep writing and thinking and planning.