How to Know a Story Is "Working"

Or, I Can Finally Stop Reworking Book Two

Messy picture, messy mind? Maybe not…

Dearest Book Two. My problem child.

If you know me, I’ve probably ranted to you about the radically different experiences I’ve had drafting my novels. My first, D.J. Rosenblum Becomes the G.O.A.T., flowed like a river: It had occasional bumps, but nothing a strong wave couldn’t smooth. In contrast, my second book is more like a dam: One day, it’ll be strong and stable, but boy is its construction taking work.

A couple months ago, I restarted Book Two. I’ve since written 22,000 words. More significantly, within the past two weeks, I had a brain blast: A new direction of the story clicked like a key in a lock. With this new feature, Book Two is truly working at long last. Hallelujah!

It’s easiest to say that “click” is ineffable—something a writer just knows when she feels it. (It’s second-easiest to extend my old metaphor. Imagine if the logs in the dam stacked themselves…? You see the issue.) But I think it’s more helpful to try to identify how you can tell when a book is truly working. In my case, hours of self-reflection burrowed down to one element:

Momentum.

In my last newsletter, I mentioned writing should feel fun. That’s important—but it’s also incomplete. The best, most truthful writing should feel urgent. That doesn’t mean you’re always writing about the most critical current events. (Notice, for instance, how this column isn’t about the United States’ impending fascism.) Rather, you as the author should feel pulled by the story. Pulled forward, pulled through muck, pulled past other work, pulled off-course… Your story should have a life of its own, a life it demands to live.

Are you a visual learner? Picture a child walking a dog. Now, picture a dog meaningfully bigger than the child. Now, picture that dog running. (This could also be a Henry and Mudge sequel. Cynthia Rylant, call me.) The child has two choices: to let go of the leash or run after the dog. It’s always possible to let go—to let the dog run away, racing who knows where, perhaps never to return. But the child loves the dog—if anything, the child learns from and shares the dog’s sense of adventure—so instead, she holds on tight. She lets the dog lead her into a canine wonderland. And if she’s a writer, she may just find magic there. 

Because we don’t really create stories ourselves. We hone stories from truths that long predate us. As the great Joyce Carol Oates put it (paraphrased by The Writer Magazine):

Writers should explore personal emotions and discover the “unique and universal” intense moments from their pasts that are also meaningful and appealing to a wide audience . . . once a writer connects personal experiences with a universal purpose, the writing will flow naturally.

So, dear readers, I encourage you to ask:

·      What truths are you interested in elucidating?

·      What characters can help you learn more about those truths?

·      What directions are they going?

Once you can answer those questions, follow your story’s lead. No matter what, keep going. One step at a time, your story will reveal itself—so long as you retain the humility to receive it. 

Abby’s Pop Culture Pop-Up

In the wake of Donald Trump’s election, I cancelled my Amazon Prime subscription and rededicated that money to recipients in line with my values. The first two purchases: subscriptions to Slate and New York Magazine’s coterie of sites. The main reason I chose these publications is that I've found their political coverage invaluable since 2016. But the second reason is that I looove good pop culture reporting—and Slate, Vulture, and The Cut are all A-List.

Exhibit A? An in-depth screed from Vulture journalist Roxana Hadadi about why Denzel Washington should always wear a little shawl. I don’t actually plan to see Gladiator II in theaters. But a witty, persuasive soliloquy on the perfect marriage of Acting and Attire? She will literally always get me to click.

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D.J.’s Digest

Thanksgiving isn’t a big holiday in my family. I’m not sure whether that’s normal or not: We just tend to care more about days like Passover or Yom Kippur. (Those two sit at either end of the Jewish Holiday Spectrum: “They Tried to Kill Us, They Didn’t, Let’s Eat!”) Still, I’m excited to get a break from school and eat my body weight in mashed potatoes. I’ll also have to argue with Tori: She claims sweet potatoes taste better. I cannot allow that sacrilege without a fight.

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Miri’s Music

“Mama Told Me (Not to Come)” – Three Dog Night (1970)

I seen so many things I ain't never seen before
Don't know what it is, I don't wanna see no more

Mama told me not to come
Mama told me not to come…

This song is laughably appropriate to Book Two.

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This Month’s Favorites

A photo insert in An Immense World by Ed Yong.

Coziest Coffee Shop goes to… Au Lait, where I took the cover image for this newsletter. I had a great writing day there for Book Two. Get the Poulet sandwich.

My Kind of Kidlit goes to… Furthermore by Tahereh Mafi. I read this wild, whimsical wonder of a book in just a day. The first comp that comes to mind is Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland—one of the biggest compliments I can pay to any story. This middle grade book is clever, creative, and full of heart on every page. Please, please read it!

The Most Excellent Elephants goes to… the pachyderms in Ed Yong’s An Immense World. This book accomplishes a feat that feels impossible: understanding the sensory universes of other animals. I, of course, was most interested in the elephants; Yong highlighted their senses of smell, touch, and sound. There’s also an edition for young readers, which you should buy for every child you know yesterday.

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Announcements

Book Two is going well! At this point, I think, I need to sequester myself along this journey until I reach its endpoint. Wish me luck and travel tips.

D.J. Rosenblum Becomes the G.O.A.T. is coming along beautifully. I’m thrilled to say that—barring any unexpected delays—the book should be finished by the end of this year. That means it’ll be fully proofread, designed, formatted, covered by a beautiful illustration, pens down, everything but printed and distributed—ahhhhhhh!

As we inch into December, I’m sure I’ll get more anxious about finishing D.J. Rosenblum. Right now, though, I just feel excited. I adore my girl—I adore our book—and I cannot wait to share her with the world.