The "What's next?" syndrome

Once you've completed a first novel, there's an expectation of a second novel. This is known as the "What's next?" syndrome. I liken this to asking a marathon runner if he's going to run another 26 miles right after he's crossed the finish line.

But I suppose it's human nature to ask such a question. And I prefer that question to the other question that I get most often, which is, "When will your book be out?" At least I have some semblance of an answer for the "What's next?" question. There seems to be a general assumption that I should have an answer to the "When will your book be out?" question, but I don't.

Back to the "What's next?" question. When I say I prefer that question, it doesn't necessarily mean that I like it. Although it's a seemingly simple question, nothing in writing is as simple as it seems.

My general answer is that I have started writing a second novel. Now this general answer, I've found, tends to explode in my face because it works as a triggering device for a series of loaded follow-up questions that I don't have answers to. Questions like, "What's it about?" or "When will it be done?"

If nothing else my experience in writing my first novel has taught me that there are no simple answers when it comes to the novel-writing process. As I've noted before, the first draft of Lost in the Ivy (which at the time was called Ivy Dancer) bears little resemblance to the final draft. Still, the basic premise of the story remained the same from day one. Of course, seven years followed from day one before I reached the end of my little story. 

With that in mind, I enter into discussions of my next project with rather timid steps. But I will share the basic premise, which is a bit of a departure from my first novel.

My new project, at least as I've envisioned it, is a coming-of-age story whose foundation is loosely built upon an actual traumatic event from my past. I can't say I've ridden very far with her yet. Every time I've saddled up, I seem to get bucked off. But I'm determined to break this bronco. 

Much like my first project, it is the basic premise that keeps me riding. If you want a taste of that premise, you can read my opening to the first chapter. This is by no means necessarily how the final version will read, but it at least gives you an idea of where I'm starting from.  And before anyone asks, no, I don't have a title yet.

Because I will be refocusing my energies on this second novel, I might be curtailing ever so slightly on the number of journal entries that I write for this blog. Still, I will try my hardest to post at least one new journal entry a week. Also, this blog will continue to serve as my primary source of news surrounding the publication of Lost in the Ivy. So if you want to be the first on the block to know the answer to that dreaded "When will it be out?" question, this will be the place to look. Hopefully I'll also be able to answer the other questions that tend to follow as well, such as where you can buy it and where you can find me signing it.  

When "The End" does not mean the end: Writing Process Revealed Part V

When it comes to the novel-writing process, perhaps the most frequently asked question I get is: How long did it take you to write it?

This seems like a simple question, but when it comes to novel-writing nothing is as simple as it seems.

The simple answer, I suppose, is four years. That's basically how long it took me to get to the point where I could write "The End." There were many stops and starts during that time, and times when I didn't think I'd get to write "The End." Belief in my story carried me over those bumps I encountered along the way.

Over the years I've sent fledgling chapters to friends and family. A few people have even read an entire manuscript. But none of these people will have seen the final version. I know this because I haven't finished it yet.

Three years have passed since I wrote "The End" and even today the book is still not really finished. It's being edited and revised for the umpteenth time.

Sure, the novel is essentially written and the basic plot structure will not change, but significant alterations are still being made in almost every chapter. Whether anybody other than myself would notice these changes I don't know. But each time I read I find a section that I think can be improved upon, and I try to do just that -- make it so it reads better.

I still have the first fledgling chapters that I sent out some five or six years ago. I barely recognize them. They serve as a measuring stick of how far I've come -- and how difficult it is to get to "The End."

Characters: Writing Process Revealed Part IV

Characters -- we all know them.  They're the ones that seem to have walked straight out of the pages of a novel.

Writing a novel allows you to do just that -- put those characters that have crossed your world onto paper in fictionalized form. 

Sometimes the line between fiction and non-fiction is blurred.  Take, for example, Primary Colors, by Joe Klein (aka "Anonymous"), a tale about an enigmatic southern governor running for president. As Amazon.com noted in its review, "The main appeal of Primary Colors, of course, lies in guessing who's who in the fictionalization of Bill Clinton's first bid for the Democratic presidential nomination and just how much of its juicy plot is true."

Undoubtedly readers who know me who read my book will be doing so with an eye on guessing who's who.  Those readers will not be completely disappointed, but they shouldn't look too hard.  Lost in the Ivy is not Primary Colors.

There are obvious similarities between the protagonist of Lost in the Ivy, Charley Hubbs, and me.  Like Charley, I was a newspaper reporter. And as I noted in an earlier journal entry, the Wrigleyville apartment that Charley moves into is modeled after the studio I rented in the mid-1990s. Charley's thoughts sometimes are my thoughts, but that shouldn't come as a surprise since I am, after all, the author.  But what happens to Charley is purely fictional. If this were a story about the real me, it would be dreadfully boring.

As I also noted in an earlier journal entry, the Jimmie Dart character derives from a real-life Jimmy who lived across the hall from me.  But as I noted before, I knew almost nothing about the real-life Jimmy.  The character Jimmie is purely a product of my imagination.

Other central characters, Elizabeth "Lizzy" Zappler and Danny Piper, bear almost no resemblance to anyone I know or have known.  They, too, came to life out of my brain.

Some lesser characters, like the judge and the newspaper editor, are composites of real-life judges and newspaper editors I have known.  If you know or have known any judges or newspaper editors, you know that they are almost always novel-worthy characters.

I will acknowledge that there are two characters in the book that are fictional recreations of real-life characters.  I do not believe that I am spoiling anything for you by revealing them to you here.

The real-life CamusOne is the character of Camus (pronounced Kah-moo), the cat in the book.  He is modeled, unapologetically, after my cat of the same name, who is, of course, named after the French existentialist author, Albert Camus.  There are differences between the fictional Camus and the real-life Camus, however.  The fictional Camus is Persian while the real-life Camus is Siamese.  Also, the fictional Camus is slightly more plump than the real-life Camus. 

The other is the bouncer at the Ginger Man tavern.  He is unnamed in the book and appears only once but is a fictionalized depiction of Bobby Scarpelli, the real-life bouncer who opened the doors to the Ginger Man when I frequented it in the mid-1990s.  As Sun-Times reporter Dave Hoekstra eloquently reported in a loving tribute to Bobby on May 28, 1998, Bobby opened the doors to a lot of hearts. Bobby, who Hoekstra described as "Chicago's best known rock 'n' roll bouncer, died at age 50 of complications from liver disease. To me a huge part of the Ginger Man and the Wrigleyville I knew died with him. 

All hail the King: Writing Process Revealed Part III

My residency at Bradley Place was only one year. Even though I moved away -- and moved on -- in some ways that place never left me.

Almost three years after I packed my meager belongings and moved out of my studio apartment, I returned to it for the first time.  Not in reality but in fiction.  Little did I know that I would be staying there for the better part of four years.  That's how long it would take for me to finish telling my little story.

Not unlike the first time I moved into this place, I brought little with me.  One thing that I perhaps should have had, but didn't, was an outline.  For that negligence I will accept my flogging from the headmaster of the School of Proper Novel Writing Technique.  Honestly, I wish that I could be that organized.  My mind just doesn't think that far ahead. 

All I had with me was this budding situation (i.e., What if the quiet, unassuming neighbor was charged with killing his neighbor) with no idea where I would go with it, which may explain why it took me four years to reach the ending.

As I would later learn from master storyteller Stephen King, in his book, On Writing, this isn't as awful a starting point as it might sound.  (On Writing, you should note, is the only non-fiction book to make my Ten Books list of books that made me want to be an author.  Without it, I very much doubt that I would have finished writing my own book.  So for writing On Writing, I owe Mr. King a huge debt of gratitude.)

In On Writing, Mr. King gives six key rules for writing a bestseller.  The first of these is the one that stuck with me: Forget plot, but remember the importance of 'situation'.  In his view, "plotting and the spontaneity of real creation aren't compatible."  He goes on to argue that "A strong enough situation renders the whole question of plot moot." 

Such statements were considered blasphemy by some in the creative writing world.  But for me -- a writer who never took a creative writing course -- they were liberating.  I was suddenly freed to take my situation wherever my sometimes wild imagination goes.  The result was Lost in the Ivy.

Tangled up in ivy: Writing Process Revealed Part II

When last I visited the story behind the story of Lost in the Ivy, I had just moved into a $500-a-month studio apartment in what I will describe as a grey area on the edge of both Wrigleyville and Boys Town.  Like the main character in the novel, Charley Hubbs, I had a minimalist approach to interior decorating and furniture.  There was a futon, a chair, a side table, a halogen lamp, a stereo and a TV.   All except for the TV were black.  I guess I also had a dark side.

I was sandwiched between two single females.  On one side was an oversexed, usually unemployed accountant who always wore black and seemed intent on trying to bed me (she didn't succeed).  She was quite complimentary, by the way, of my interior design.  On the other side was a mousy wannabe actress whom I didn't meet until one day she knocked on my door and asked me to catch a mouse that was loose in her apartment (I succeeded).      

Across the hallway from me was Jimmy.  Like the character Jimmie Dart in my book, the real Jimmy had an eviction notice posted on his door.  This came to symbolize his personality for me.  Truth be told, I know even less about Jimmy than I know about the single women who lived next to me.  I came to realize that he was gay but I know nothing of what he did professionally or if he was employed at all.  I never stepped inside his apartment.  We exchanged no more than a few words in the short time that I knew him.  Few of those were kinds words.  I do know that he threw some seemingly wild parties.  These kept me awake many a night, even on work nights.  Through the walls I'd hear bits and pieces of things but not enough to know what was really going on.  I imagined many things and these things I imagined spilled out in Lost in the Ivy and turned into the fictional character Jimmie Dart.

One day I came home from work to learn that Jimmy was dead.  Turns out he had died from an overdose of drugs.  My overactive imagination, however, got me wondering about other scenarios.  What if Jimmy had really been murdered?  And what if signs began to point to his quiet, unassuming, new neighbor as a suspect in his murder?  With those thoughts in mind, the seed was planted for what would become Lost in the Ivy.