A Blank Page & A Gilded Age
Today, I begin drafting my first novel since becoming a mother. I’ve outlined and researched, and though I’ve published short stories and written unpublished manuscripts, I’m feeling like a novice once again. While several writing books exist, I have yet to find one that addresses how my brain has devolved from remembering complex plot mechanics to placing my coffee in the refrigerator while my preschooler asks where to put her boogers, then promptly forgetting where my coffee is. Science dictates that my brain has become squishy enough to prioritize my child’s needs. Making room for a new book baby feels like stuffing an entire archive into a kitchen cabinet.
I am reminded of Courtney Maum’s publishing how-to guide, Before and After the Book Deal, which includes a section called “If I have children, will I ever write again?". When I purchased this book as a new mother scouring the day for lost time, this title rattled my core. Will I ever write again? I asked myself, as I recorded short story ideas into my notes app with one thumb while cradling my napping baby. In this section of the book, author-parents address the obstacles - mostly time constraints and financial barriers - that prevent them from writing. Stories of naptime writing sprints and expensive daycares may deter the aspiring novelist from becoming a parent, especially when the solution is no solution. Parents have done it, many to great success, and one must experiment to find what works.
There is no greater test on one’s adaptability than young children. I used to read short stories during 2am and 5am wake-ups. I joined the 5am Writers Club when morning wake-ups (finally) arrived after 7am. I could write 750 words during a nap. But now, the naps are gone, bedtime is later, and my child has an invisible sensor that tells her to wake up when I do. I don’t know how it works, but trust me, it works well.
Last year, a visit to Newport, Rhode Island inspired a novel. I wasn’t searching for something new, but as my family drove the coastline, a fictional family - cunning and vibrant and ambitious - introduced themselves. Since then, I’ve been making way for Gilded Age research. I read comparable books in hotels as we moved to a new city. I’ve been binging Edith Wharton audiobooks while painting rooms. I’ve been browsing old newspapers over breakfast. A few weeks ago, with cold, stiff writing muscles, I embarked on an escalator challenge. I would write a companion short story for this novel - 100 words for a week, then 200, all the way up to 500. I kept at it, and when I hit 500 words per day, I sighed in relief. Writing is possible. It is messy, sure, and writing time is not guaranteed, but, indeed, achievable.
As I write this Gilded Age novel, I plan to share research, check in, and perhaps, inspire those who must find writing time within the self-carved margins of the day. Like Maum’s book expresses, parenting while writing is tough work. But as the Latin phrase goes, aut viam inveniam aut faciam (I shall either find a way or make one). More Gilded Age content to come, but for now, I’m taking a moment to celebrate today and all the work that has led to this point.