Into the Wood

When I admire a painting or a sculpture, I am first taken by its whole image, whether it is the powerful body of Hercules as he battles the Nemean lion (you can see an earlier sketch of the painting), or the flowing curves of Daphne as she transforms into a laurel tree at the touch of Apollo. When I watch a dance, I am mesmerized by the graceful and deceptively effortless movement of the performers. While I read a book, I am engulfed in the story. In all of these instances, I seek the meaning behind the art, the feelings it is supposed to invoke, the reactions it is designed to trigger. And after each experience, I go home feeling ever so slightly enlightened, enlivened, and engrossed. 

But later I often wonder: how did Bernini go about carving the amazing statue, imbuing with movement and grace a hard and cold piece of marble? Did he start from the bottom or from the top? Did he carve Daphne or Apollo first? How did Rubens decide on the exact position of Hercules’s body, the expression on the lion’s face? Do the dancers practice only some movements over and over again, and which ones? And how are they able to breathe through a long and physically challenging part without visibly panting? When I listen to music, I wonder how the composer and the musicians are able to fuse a cacophony of sounds into a mellifluous song. 

In other words, I am engrossed by the art. But the process through which it is created fascinates me even more. Sadly, unless one is an artist, or lives with an artist, the process remains an enigma for the rest of us.

Having written only a single novel so far, and one that hasn’t even gone through the discerning sieve of public opinion, I consider myself far removed from an artist. But I can tell you about the process I went through when I wrote the novel. It was a creative process after all.

As you may have read in my earlier post, I got the immediate inspiration for the story from a couple of news media articles. But they only gave me a rough idea of who I wanted my main protagonists to be. As they slowly took shape in my head, they started to talk, still in my head. And at that moment, I sat down and began to write. 

I wrote a whole chapter, which comprised mainly of a dialogue between the two main characters. The chapter is the one that explicitly reveals the main theme of the novel. Since it is not a secret, I’ll tell you what it is. It is about how the choices we make along the way determine how happy and fulfilled we would ultimately deem our lives to have been. As you may have guessed by now, this chapter was not the first chapter of the novel. It wasn’t even in the first half of the book. It ended up being almost right in the middle of it. 

I had written this pivotal scene, but I still hadn’t developed the rest of the story. I had two protagonists, but I hadn’t decided what would happen to them. So, my next step was to write a very rough outline of the plot. It mainly comprised of ideas for other characters and specific events. With time I moved those pieces around, but they gave me a scaffolding to step on so that I could continue to build the story.

The second chapter I wrote comprised the last chapter of the story, but only for a while. My own creative writing process surprised me. I always assumed that writers write the way we read, from the beginning to the end. Especially when the story is more or less linear, how could you go about it in any other way? But here I was, doing just the opposite. Hopping around without any apparent plan or reason. 

I did not have a clear structure or logical process in mind. I mainly thought of a character and I wrote a chapter with him or her in it. As I wrote the various scenes, however, they slowly and miraculously merged together into a more comprehensible whole. I had to re-read my writing many times to make sure that ultimately the scenes were meaningful, that there was a coherent flow that brought the various parts together.

Overall, however, I had a much easier time with the end of the book than its beginning. I knew how I wanted the story to bloom, but I was vague about its roots. As a result, I wrote the early chapters toward the very end. Especially the first chapter, I kept reworking it to the last edits of the book. My earlier readers often deemed it the weakest chapter. And they all had ideas on how to make it stronger. Perhaps, subconsciously I was avoiding it, or by the end, I had run out of creative juices. I don’t know. But if you end up reading my book, please read past the first chapter!

Once I had what I thought was a complete novel, it was time to let others read it too (for more on that you can read my earlier post). It was with great trepidation that I let every single person read it. Most of the feedback that I received led me to various stages of dysphoria. But I found something useful in everyone’s thoughts too. As I incorporated these new ideas, they further developed the plot, gave more depth to the characters, made a better writer of me too. I hope that as a result, the novel has become a more satisfying read. 

It has always been an extremely rewarding process for me to write it, despite the challenges, the lows, and the agony I endured. That surprised me too. Writing about these other people forced me to think about myself, about my life, about my worth, not only as a writer, but as a person too. When a character struggled with hardships, I cried with her. When a character was uplifted, I laughed with him.  

In the end, I realized that writing a novel was like writing Life itself. And it is a beautiful thing! Don’t you agree?