Little brain space for anything other than book 2 this month. The editing process is nebulous, a vast galaxy that manages to feel claustrophobic at times. Everything is possible and yet, revision means whittling down the boundlessness of those possibilities. Honing into the ones that feel most right to the story. Cutting the cord on the ones that don’t fit, not right now, not just yet. It is, more or less, all I think about these days. When I bike and feel my fingers ache I think of how my new protagonist would verbalize the pain. At the gym, my body moves to pick up heavy things, and with it, sometimes come epiphanies—a missing line that connects two scenes, a scene ending. The list of words to use, of newfound affectations to thread through the narrative, grows in my Notes app. To be in this stage is to be in the eye of the hurricane, attuned to each detail of this little world, its smells, its cadence. To start to bone-know what kinds of dreams this new cast of characters would have, what meals they know from memory, how they might react to a friend putting their headshot on their CV. All of these things, I’m learning once more, take time.
Next month I plan on finishing a solid draft of it. Sending it off to fresh-eyed readers over the holidays while I put my copy in the drawer. Read something other than my own words (over and over and over again). Pachinko by Min Jin Lee is on my bedside (thank you to my friend Amy for the gift) ready to be pored over. Baron Bagge by Alexander Lernet-Holenia is on my TBR, alongside Clean by Alia Trabucco Zerán, and The Ministry of Time by Kalian Bradley. What a treat it is to read while not writing! (i.e. sans fear of the contamination of voice)
Camera roll these days: Poetry books to scour for new words in. Cozy clothes & special mementos. First pages. The workspace.
Because this has mostly been a writing year, I haven’t read as much as I wanted to, but a few novels do stand out. Scaffolding by Lauren Elkin—a book about homes and memories and the difficulty of severing the bonds we create with those closest to us—was one of my favourites. When I described the plot to Marcus he said it sounded like “the most Anna book ever”, and I was chuffed to find out, about a third of the way through, that the protagonist’s name was in fact: Anna.
A couple of other books I loved were The Lost Daughter by Elena Ferrante, The Book of Goose by Yiyun Li, and The End We Start From by Megan Hunter.
Since I didn’t get around to creating a small business gift guide this year (I will keep blaming book 2 like it is my newborn), I thought I’d share those favourites and encourage you to shop at your local bookstore for the holidays. I’m very pro-experience gifts and a book is just that.
Lastly—I had initially reserved this offer exclusively to friends and family but as an apology for the short dispatch this month, I’m extending it to you as well. We’re F&F here at this point. If you’re interested in gifting a copy (or two!) of The Afterpains this year, I’d love to gift you a Neophyte x LOHN candle to go along with it. Just answer this email and we’ll sort out the shipping/pick up details.
Until then, I’ll be back in editing room.
See you in December. x