Finished and Just Beginning
A few hours ago, I finished my third novel.
Technically I finished a version of it a few months ago, but then I decided to reform it into a completely different genre. For reasons.
But it’s properly done now. Three novels and an essay collection in the bag means I have a substantial amount of long-form work to my name. I think they’re all pretty good books. The pages have stacked up over the years and that’s rad. Some people struggle to get words out, but motivation and ability to produce has never been my problem.
My problem is the motivation to do anything afterwards.
I have queried a few agents and publishers (half-assedly, it must be admitted), got some interest, but I grow bored and overwhelmed by all the hoops—writing synopses, writing one-line summaries, submitting in this font at this size, listing ten books like yours, no to romance, no to fantasy, yes to female-led crime series, yes to cookbooks and YA, yes ma’am, no ma’am, three bags full ma’am. Probably sounds bratty but I’ve been completely uninterested in all the non-creative legwork. It doesn’t blow my skirt up. There’s also the possibility of self-publishing, about which I don’t have any hangups other than how it would be even MORE legwork. The other problem I have, and this is probably a Gemini thing, is that once I’m finished, I just want to move on to creating other things.
None of this stems from an insecurity with my work: I’ve published shit all over the place, including this little essay you’re reading. It really is just a lack of motivation with the “business” side of things. I have no acumen for it. I have a powerfully intuitive sense of the difference between a deal and a scam, and that’s about it. Building a business? That’s for people who can understand what’s going on in those stock market graphs, and who fill out ledgers and shit.
But building a business is what you absolutely must do, whether you’re going the traditional/institutional route or the DIY route. This might sound obvious to a lot of people, including so-called creatives, and yeah it’s only taken me almost 20 years to realise (lol), but it seems more important than ever to get real.
I understand this in other areas of my life. I’m congenitally bad with money, disorganised, a maelstrom of emotions and thoughts and agitations: this is why I’ve instituted systems to counter the effects of my chaotic orientation. Every bill is automated, money is siphoned off into multiple savings accounts for safekeeping, and my calendar tells me when, where, and what to do (sometimes who to do too, heyoooo). I have extensive task lists every day. This is not because I’m naturally anal and organised. It’s because I’m naturally a mess. The system contains and sustains.
If I can do all this stuff to manage my life, I can do what’s necessary to get my work out there. I’m not sure which path I will take distributing my books, but lately I’ve been inspired by the entrepreneurial spirit of novelists
and . They’ve been dropping insight after insight on the business side of things on their wonderful podcast, Agitator (go listen and also read their books, they’re great). Both of them will be on my podcast Getting Lit next week, which should be fun. Part of this shift in my mindset came from listening to David and Kelby’s show, the other part was more existential.I’m certain I will not have children. I didn’t really have the urge to pass on my genes, probably not many gay men do, but I thought it could’ve been a possibility at one point. Now, too old and not married, and then there’s the dubious ethics of surrogacy which always seemed gross anyway. The point is that avenue is closed to me. So I got to thinking about what I’ve got to pass on. At this moment: a niche, moderately successful podcast, a smattering of short stories, essays, a few plays, and a couple of short films. That’s okay, but I feel like it’s a shame to not have the more substantial work out there. I don’t think any of this is going to change the world or make me famous. It’s not why I do it. But making some mark on the world (small, large, whatever) before the next life is a motivating force.
And that’s pushed me into business mode. Other than this substack, and a few smaller things, I am putting writing on hold. Pure creative flow can be addictive, and it’s a reason we do what we do, but to chase this mode constantly isn’t practical. At some point we have to come back to earth and share the boons of our artistic ecstasy. Otherwise, what is it for?
No doubt I’m going to be bored shitless a lot, and maybe I will post about the business-minded writer journey, if I happen to find anything interesting. But I feel optimistic. Something has shifted. Not just in me, I feel it in the air, and especially in the weird online scene in which I’ve found myself. Whether manifested through cosmic vibrations or just the joys of connecting with those who “get it,” the rest of this year will be a turning point towards something very good for a lot of us.
For me, a new beginning will come from embracing the non-creative legwork I’ve been resisting for too long.