The Importance of Starter Novels

Like many people who find themselves writing in adulthood, my first attempts at being a writer started when I was a child. It’s hard to pinpoint the exact time; honestly, I barely remember a time I wasn’t reading or writing. In middle school there were some terrible attempts at short stories and sad poetry (as one does). In high school I discovered playwriting and, with the encouragement of a great teacher, pursued that for a while.

At that point I couldn’t conceive of writing something as grand as a whole novel, and I’m not sure the idea that someone like me could do something like that was anywhere in my universe. In college I majored in English but turned to journalism as something more “practical” than creative writing. As much as my parents have always been in my corner, no one was going to support me financially while I pursued any dreams of writing creatively, professionally, I might have had.

But at some point post-college, post-grad school (in journalism), I started to explore my writing dreams more seriously. I took a writing course from the local community education center that lasted multiple years and provided invaluable feedback. I connected with friends who shared similar interests and dreams. I attended conferences. And I wrote. Badly. Over and over again, I started projects, finished some, abandoned some, played with genre, and tried to figure out my voice. I still am.

I’m not sure what inner voice led me to this wisdom, but at some point I made a deal with myself: the goal could not be to get published. There were too many variables out of my control. Too much luck and chance involved. I wasn’t going to let go of the dream, but the goal was going to be to write. To finish things. To find joy and pleasure in the act of writing, itself. And when I made that switch, everything changed. It made everything easier. I’m not looking for writing to save me from a bad job; I like my job. There isn’t pressure on the writing to be more than it needs to be. It’s supposed to be fun, after all.

And all those starter novels, all those starts and stops, have made me better. Every time I write something, I get better. I learn about voice, tension, and plotting. I’m clear now on the genres I should be writing in, and those I should avoid. I get better at structure. And I’m getting more comfortable with seeking out feedback. After all, if you’re going to be a writer, at some point you have to let other people read what you have written.

There is a particularly human, and probably exclusively American, need to be perfect. And not only perfect, but perfect without effort, without work, without practice. There is no scenario in which I would assume that I could walk into an operating room tomorrow and perform surgery. There is no scenario in which I could walk into a courtroom and successfully argue a case. Could I learn to do these things? Sure. With years of practice, study, mentorship, successes and failures, absolutely. I still would never be perfect. But I could learn how to do it. Why should writing be any different?

I fully believe that our lives are constant works in progress. That we should always be learning and growing and getting better. I know in my day job, when I stop being challenged, when I stop feeling like I’m learning, that’s when it’s time to do something different. I’m a better writer now than I was a year ago, and I hope to be better at it a year from now than I am today. Will I get published someday? Maybe. And if I am, that will be an absolute dream. But it’s not the goal. I’m just getting started.