My 9/10 Novel

Living in northern New Jersey, it's difficult, if not impossible, to not think about the events of 9/11, 2001. Indeed, it's probably bad for your mental health not to think about it from time to time if you lived through it here. I suspect I will always remember exactly where in my commute I heard about the first plane hitting one of the Twin Towers. I chastised myself for assuming we were under attack — especially after the guy on WDHA amended his comments saying that it had been a small plane, not a large plane as he initially had heard.

In between the time I parked my car and turned off the engine and I entered my office, the second plane had struck. It immediately struck me: We're at war.

This blog is focused on writing, however, so here's my point: By 9/10, 2001, I had begun my first novel and written about thirty pages. I was stuck not on what to write next but when did my story occur. Was the time significant? On 9/11, I realized that we had just experienced an important line of demarcation in history; there is a pre-9/11 world and a post-9/11 world. From there, I had to determine how this affected my novel

I decided to use it obliquely. My novel begins on 9/10, 2000 and ends on 9/10, 2001. Because such attacks were barely contemplated by the average person, nothing more than faint glimpses of fear and omen are displayed. The story takes place in Hoboken, New Jersey, a town I know well that lies directly across the river from New York City. Ground Zero is within view. Indeed, the clouds of smoke and debris floated above the river after the towers fell.

Whether my oblique references to the tragedy of 9/11 should remain part of my novel — and not an overt focus of it — has been a frequent point of discussion with my initial readers. Usually I bring it up, but some of my readers have anticipated the question. I still think it's more than just a moment of inspiration; I think it's important to the story, subtle though it remains.

So, each year, I think a lot about the people who experienced 9/11 first hand. I lost a friend that day and thank God that I didn't lose more people who were close to me. I lost some innocence as well, which is largely what my novel is about — not my loss of innocence, but the nation's; or maybe it's that our eyes were opened to the terrible possibilities. And I reflect on those fictional people who mean so much today who came to life on 9/11.

With my young innocents at home, I have had almost no time to work on the latest novel much less to send my "finished" one out to agents. I respect their time and my own too much to look for representation when I don't have the time to respond appropriately if I should actually get an offer. It's like going fishing without the strength to reel in the fish.

Remember 9/11, my friends, in your own way. It's important for all Americans, regardless of political party or ideology.

Ben Franklin and the Slow-Moving Book

I should know better. For the past couple of weeks, I've been reading A Great Improvisation, which is a history about Benjamin Franklin's work as ambassador to France during the American Revolution, written by Stacy Schiff. I have always admired Franklin, though my real understanding of his work is based on childhood schoolbooks and movies.

The book is well written and obviously well researched. But God, is it slow! Of course, I began it while I was still working on my NaNo novel, which meant I read it mostly while on the morning portion of my commute. Still, nonfiction — especially densely packed nonfiction — tends to only go at about a 20-page per morning pace, whereas I usually knock out about twice as much for a novel.

But these types of books also allow for a better sense of what a character looks like, and that's nice every once in a while (though I very much enjoy imagining what a person looks like). And a history can inspire other ideas — screenplays, for example, other histories, even plays. I only have a hundred pages left of the 400-plus, and while I probably won't finish it this weekend, I should have it back on a shelf before next week is relegated to history.

Let Me Sleep on It

Now here's an idea other writers may find appealing. Struggling to come up with the key idea that moves the story? Sleep on it.

This is not exactly a new idea. And in some ways it should seem obvious. Get some sleep and you'll look at a problem with a clearer perspective.

But it can be difficult, sometimes, to accept such wisdom — especially when a deadline is looming or you know that you've procrastinated enough already to deserve to sleep. (Actually, procrastinating writers probably should not spend another hour in the schnazzy looking nap-pod. They'll never get out.) I'm yawning; it's 10:30. I should probably go to bed now. Or at least let my mind shut down for a while and tackle such difficult tasks as cleaning the litter box or take the garbage out for tomorrow's pick up. ... ok, did the garbage.

I was a little surprised the article, which includes a description of famous dream-inspired discoveries, didn't include Friedrich August Kekulé's dream of a snake that was biting its own tail — which led him to envision the ring-structure of benzene. Of course, that tale could be so oft used already as to seem unnecessary to repeat. But I enjoyed reading about Elias Howe's dream; that was new to me.

Inspiration comes from anywhere and happens all the time. A fresh mind can make the connections between seemingly disparate concepts. This is how innovation works.

Anyway, my point is writing is a supremely cerebral activity, regardless of how important it is to simply keep doing it in order to accomplish anything. And even if you keep writing, as Anne Lamott called them, "Shitty first drafts." So if you're struggling with a character or a scene, you can do a few things: keep writing, sleep on it and see what you come up with later, or write something else and let your subconscious mind work out the problems on its own. It'll tell you the answer eventually. You just need to be ready for it.