From Novel to Memoir

I've been writing novels for a long time. I know I'm pretty young (comparatively*), but I wrote my first novel when I was 11. And I don't mean "novel" as in long short story that at the time seemed to count as a novel. I mean that handwritten, it took up two of those 100-leaf (so 200-page) wide-rule composition notebooks, plus a few extra pages on a yellow legal pad.

Really, novels are my one true writerly love. I've written a few short stories along the way, but they do not inspire me with the same passion. I admire short story writers (Jhumpa Lahiri and Neil Gaiman in particular). It's just not the format for me.

When I was 12, I wrote the sequel to my first novel. It probably would have been just as long as the first if I didn't lose the composition notebook I'd already filled with writing, then give up on the project out of despair (this was before I learned that when you rewrite things, they turn out better than the first draft anyway).

When I was 14, I wrote what I like to call my first "real" novel. This was shortly after I discovered the word processor on Dad's computer, and I spent day after day typing up my handwritten notes into the system.** When I finished, I had a 350-some page fantasy novel about Atlantis (I will only say this: it involved unicorn-riders. Versus evil dragon-riders from Mu. As you can imagine, it was FANTASTIC *cough*).

I spent the next three or four years reading and rereading this novel, trying to edit it. I wrote a couple other projects in between -- mostly short stories for classes, and a couple novella-length pieces.

When I finally gave up on that novel and wrote my next one, I was a junior in college. That's when I really hit my stride. I wrote 3 more novels over the next 4 years, each stronger than the last.

Which brings me to today.

I have one futuristic YA novel that I'm hoping will find home with an agent somewhere so it can go out on sub. I honestly believe this is my first project that could make it. I think (maybe optimistically) that it is good enough to be published (and it's taken me years of perspective to be able to say that my past attempts were not ready).

So what now?

I tried to write another novel. I bounced around 3-4 ideas, each one more high-concept than the next. The problem was, none of those ideas grabbed me. I wrote ten, twenty, forty pages here and there. None of them cried KEEP GOING.

I should mention that back in sophomore year of college, I took a memoir-writing class. I got an idea for a memoir based on the online vampire game I used to play, and a long-term relationship that emerged from the game. Over the years I've written literally*** hundreds of drafts of that story. I have restarted it over and over and over again.

Memoir writing just isn't for me, I concluded after probably the 150th try.

But a couple months ago, 4 years after I attempted the first draft, I felt ready to write it. I sat down and started again.**** This time, I kept going.

Past page 20, where I stopped 70% of the times before.

Past page 50, where I stopped 25% of the times before.

And finally, past page 75, where I stopped the very few times I thought I was almost ready to write this.

I kept writing. And now, a month and a half after I began to rewrite this project, the first draft is finished. It stands at 83k words (longer than any of my YA novels) and 250 pages in MS Word.

I still have to face revisions. Memoir writing is a hell of a lot different from writing fiction, and I know I've got a lot to learn. Fixes to implement, storylines to flesh out, characters to clarify.

But the first draft is (finally) finished. I have a good feeling about this. I still love novels, of course, and have plans to start a new one soon. But I've got to admit, memoir is a pretty cool format too...

So here's to writing something new!

P.S. - Just for kicks, an old photo that inspired a scene toward the end of the memoir:



* Although the fact that my little bro is going to be a junior in college next year makes me feel disproportionately OLD...

** There was a dramatic incident where my dad contracted a virus and reset the computer without asking if I had anything that needed saving, and I lost the entire novel I'd typed -- which made me profusely thankful that I still had the handwritten pages to start from. But at least it taught me to ALWAYS. BACK. UP. EVERYTHING.

*** No, I am not exaggerating. I literally mean over 100. I have saved proof.

**** and P.S. - it is super-intimidating to restart a project for the 151st time...