Burn It All Down and Start Over
This is about a book that almost didn't exist... and how I almost gave up on it and walked away.
The book that almost didn't exist • A Zoom reading from Wake the Wild Creatures • Book news • Upcoming workshops
Writer Membership subscribers, here's what's coming: A craft post next week... A writing prompt on October 1 that asks you to face your fears... And an invitation to an online generative workshop on October 27
Letting Go
This is about a book that almost didn't exist.
Late tonight there's a full moon eclipse over my house and, likely, yours. The Harvest Moon, it's called, among many other names in different cultures. All I know is things are coming to fruition for me. Things are changing. Last week I spent a dedicated stretch of time reading my upcoming novel Wake the Wild Creatures for the very last time. I was reviewing the proofread pages, the final stage in which the book is still mine enough to hold close. I had a week to do this read, but in truth I finished early and didn't turn in right away, as a safety measure. I slept on it. I let the dust settle. I added more names to the acknowledgments. I felt kind of... numb. I had a disembodied sense of living outside myself, watching a person who said she was me finish a book I once thought I couldn't write. I witnessed this work as if I were observing from a far-off crater on a distant moon.
This is my monthly post for all subscribers. If you're new here, welcome! I'll be publishing a post like this on each full moon as we get closer to the release of my new novel, Wake the Wild Creatures, a story that begins on the night of the Hunter's Moon. The book explores young women’s freedom and rage as Talia plots her way back to her hidden mountaintop home after her mother’s arrest for murder.​ It's a contemporary coming-of-age story with a touch of fabulism. But here's something very real I want to tell you: There was period during the writing of this book when I thought I'd never finish it and see it published.
As I write these words, the proofread pass is now back with my publisher, and... soon, it will be bound into advance reading copies and head off to reviewers and, ultimately, in May of 2025, to readers. This is the point when I have to acknowledge that the book is no longer mine. The book is about to be yours. This eclipsing moment feels like the perfect time to send a new issue of this newsletter The Words Around Us and tell you how I had to destroy my book in order to rewrite it and live up to what I imagined it could be.
In order to write this book, I had to burn it down to the ground first.
The best creative work often emerges when the stakes get high, and when the flames threaten your toes.
Have you ever felt like this about a project? That if you couldn't do it right, you may not want to do it at all?
Burning It All Down
Here’s a low point I reached during the writing of Wake the Wild Creatures: I was restless and awake in bed too late at night, obsessing at my failures on the page and staring at the dark ceiling with the cruel-edged certainty that I just did not have the ability to write this book in the way that would do it justice. I couldn't seem to communicate to other people what was in my heart and the innermost wilds of my head, and I didn't know what to do. There in the dark I began wondering how to go about getting a book contract canceled. I imagined giving up. I pictured walking away, vividly, in detail. I felt shame... but also relief. I imagined the email I'd send to my agent in the morning and the call we would have when I told him. I rehearsed what I'd say in my head. I fell asleep with this decision, feeling it was inevitable, feeling it was right.
But morning came. As soon as my eyes opened, it dawned on me: Of course. Canceling the book contract would mean having to pay back the money I'd already received long before this from the on-signing advance—which, to put it mildly, I could not afford to do. I would have to write the book, or at least a book. I could not fail myself and everyone around me so utterly. I could not give up and walk away.
Now here’s a high point that came a couple years later: Alone at my desk, I read the very last chapter of the Wake the Wild Creatures one last time. I felt the building momentum as the pages turned. I read the last passage, the last page, the last line. Then, since it was the day of deadline and there was no putting it off any longer, I forced myself to let go and turn it in to my publisher. Very soon after, the wonderful editor I'd been working with on the final stages of the book sent me an email saying CONGRATULATIONS in all caps and acknowledging that she knew how long the road has been to get here. This gesture meant so much to me. It hit me, clearly. I was transported back to that long-ago moment of failure and frustration when I stared at the ceiling on the night I so vividly wished I could cancel my book contract. I remembered how small I felt in that moment. I remembered.
Now here I was on the other side, having finished the draft I was so worried I couldn't pull off, and more drafts beyond it. Knowing I did find a way to articulate the book. I did do the work, and it was hard work. And knowing, too, that this book wouldn't be anywhere near what it's become if I didn't reach that low, frustrated point of wanting to walk away.
Do you know what I mean?
When you give up on something and make a move to start walking away... and then realize how badly you want it and go running back?
If an experience like this has happened with a project of yours—a book, a piece of art, a job—have you made it through, to the other side? I hope you will. And if you have, isn't it such a surreal experience to find yourself in the after, knowing you grew and changed and more than survived?
This is part of why the publication of Wake the Wild Creatures didn't feel real to me until very recently. Even the title. I've been carrying this title around for years, secretly worried my publisher would ask me to change it for any number of reasons titles end up being changed. It wasn't until the book's announcement in Publishers Weekly last month that I let myself believe my title could remain.
Nova Ren Suma
Starting Over
The hard truth when it comes to writing a book is that true revision—real and honest and worthy revision, not just the kind of revising that reworks only what's on the surface—is often painful. It involves breaking shit. It means setting aside your pride, letting go of your attachments and sometimes your most beloved darlings, and clearing the path for the truer, deeper work that could emerge if you stop standing in your own way.
But the writers in the room want to know... Did I really destroy everything and start over?
Okay... we writers are prone to exaggeration. I didn't burn it all to the ground. I didn't destroy everything.
What I did do was the kind of deep revision that I was scared to admit I needed after all the work I'd already done and all the pages I'd already written. (I'm afraid to admit that there are more words deleted from former iterations and drafts of this book than the 92,000+ found in the final manuscript.) I did in fact start the book over from page 1, twice—the first time, to flip the timeline and redo the structure after an exciting realization that came from a conversation with my other half. The second time, in response to editorial feedback, to rework the voice, reimagine the lens, and then write a whole host of new scenes.
There can be something really beautiful in imagining yourself walking away from a project. In doing so, you truly understand what it means to you. You see if it's worth fighting for, and sometimes, as if to prove it, your brain starts showing you how. That's what the night under the dark ceiling gave me: An unwavering belief that this book was, in fact, worth writing. And that I would do anything I could to do the work.
Speaking of burning it all down and starting over... The premium post for writers next week will share strategies I used for the deep revision of this book, and some specific craft choices and an exercise I used to find my way back. Subscribe here.
Invitation to a Reading
Want to hear a taste of Wake the Wild Creatures, after all this talk about it?
I'll be taking part in a reading with fellow Fine Arts Work Center faculty in 24PearlStreet's Wilder Words reading series on Thursday, October 3rd at 6pm ET. The other readers will be Kelle Groom, Airea Matthews, and Emily Nemens. It's free!
I'm planning to read the opening of Wake the Wild Creatures, and I'd love to see some friendly names and faces in the virtual audience.
REGISTER HERE to get the Zoom link. Hope to see you there!
Book News
- A lot is happening behind the scenes at my publisher when it comes to Wake the Wild Creatures. Soon I'll share more about the story and some wondrous blurbs, as well as content warnings, and one day... a cover!
- In the meantime, please enjoy this temporary title treatment from the 1st pass pages. This may change once the design is finalized, but I got such a thrill when I saw this. (I got to keep my title!)
- The first generative prompt hour open only to Writer Membership subscribers will be live in Zoom on Sunday, October 27 starting at 8:30pm Eastern. More details here. This generative workshop will not be recorded! In order to attend, all you need is to have an active Writer Membership here (just $5 for the one month), and an invite is yours.
- My four-week online asychronous class Crafting the Young Adult Novel with 24PearlStreet, the online home of Fine Arts Work Center, starts November 11. Register now to join me. If you're a current teacher or a student, register with code STUDENT/TEACHER20OFF for 20% off. And for everyone else, use code NOVA24FALL for 10% off!
As always, if you have questions about upcoming workshops or anything else, feel free to email me at: nova@novaren.com.
If you made it this far, thank you, once again, for reading this newsletter and for being with me as I get one month closer to the release of my new book!
