The Creativity Void Between Novels

Shushing the Negative Voices That Intrude on Our Writing

Photo by nordenwork at DepositPhotos

I’m in that panicky space, that suspended space between novels, and voices are shouting negative words in my head. “You’re not up to this.” “Stop fooling yourself.” This is nothing new; it happens whenever I finish one book and have yet to start another. It just feels new every time it happens and leaves me wondering if this time it will get the better of me. You may have experienced something similar, whether between novels or some other creative projects or before starting your first.

Negative thoughts can also intrude while I’m working on a novel if an event occurs that upsets the norm such as the death of a loved one or a bad breakup. Barring something like this, I’ve pretty much learned to deal well with the voices when they attempt to intrude upon my creativity while in the midst of writing a book. For me, creativity begets more creativity. When I’m in the middle of writing, especially if on a roll, I generally have a good idea of where the words are leading, where things are headed in the next scene, the next chapter. This is one of the benefits of plotting novels out ahead of time: you always have something to reach for, something on which to focus your imagination and ward off the silly chatter. You know what should happen next; you just need to let your imagination–-and your fingers on the keyboard–-zero in on that.

But when I’m between novels? When I’ve finished one and it’s time to start the next? That’s a whole different world. There’s no next scene, no new chapter, nothing to bend my imagination toward. Only emptiness. A void. There may be occasional chatter with snippets of thoughts and ideas but nothing concrete to latch onto. Some of this empty, aimless feeling may be due to the loss of the characters and settings I’d been working with almost daily for many months. They’re gone now, off to the publisher. And I’m left all alone.

Others in my writing world, perhaps sensing or anticipating this lull hanging over me, take the time to assure me that the novel I recently sent to the publisher was one of my best ever, that I’ve outdone myself. They reassure me that I’ll soon find another topic to write about, one that is every bit as good as the last.

Yikes! Will I? Do I have to? What if I can’t? ‘Cause right now, it seems that I’ll never craft another more compelling set of characters or more intriguing settings than those I conceived in the pages of my last book. Although there were moments when that book nearly drove me pull-out-my-hair-by-the roots nuts, all that is a distant memory. Now I can’t help but feel nostalgic as I think back fondly.  

Photo by kbuntu at DepositPhotos

Of course it’s thrilling to get compliments on your work from those whose judgment you trust. And initially, I was over the moon (still am, about that). Did a little dancing; a lot of smiling. But then slowly, as I began to think more about the next book, anxiety set in. The voices started nagging. “That’s a crummy idea.” “Forget about writing. You’ll never measure up.”

Fortunately, other more soothing voices send forth positive vibes from time to time: “You were born to do this.” “You ARE a good writer.” I realize that if I want those more gentle voices to shout louder, above the blare of the taunting noises, that I have to make an effort to encourage and propel them to the forefront. I have to remind myself that:

• I can still create devious villains who send tingles up the spines of my readers and vulnerable protagonists who invoke empathy. 

• I’m still able to create mesmerizing, memorable settings.

• I still look at the world around me with curiosity and sensitivity and am able to use my thoughts, ideas, and feelings to imagine something that was never there before. 

• I still know how to craft scenes that entice readers to turn the page and haunting, dark cliff-endings. 

• I’m still capable of writing a damn good story. 

I’ve been in this challenging space before and know what I must do to get to the other side. So I review books and films that interest me. I plan creative outings and escapes with friends and long solitary walks. A few of the books that I’ve depended on in the past to boost my confidence get pulled from the shelves, like Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, which will remind me that a writer doesn’t need to have the full-blown story completely flushed out from beginning to end before she even starts to write. I remind myself that my previous novel started as a seed of an idea that I developed “bird by bird” or scene by scene. My next novel will unfold this way too. 

It may take weeks. It may take months. But eventually the uplifting voices will return and will dominate. Those voices will propel me forward until the first words hit the first page of my next novel and they will stick around to the end.

Sigh. I just hope it all works out again this time.

Shhhh!! It will.