I am writing a novel

I am writing a novel.

This, to me, is one of the worst things to have to say out loud.

"I am writing a novel." I say, sheepish grin while the barista looks at me, confused as to why I assume she would care. "I am making art and I think you should know about my genius. Before-- you know-- before I'm famous." It's at this point, the coffee shop growing increasingly smaller, tables and chairs piling up in massive piles underneath me, a funeral pyre for the self-obsessed and pretentious, my face growing increasingly more red, I'm sure, that I realize that no one cares. Sure, I'm writing a novel. So is everyone else. People who can barely structure a sentence are out there right now, slaving over romance novels involving vampires and werewolves, but for some reason I think that mine will be better than everyone else's.

As the barista, still exhausted from the partying her and her super cool, hipster friends did last night (which is something that I envy, being older than I really am and not able to stay up past midnight), I realize that I didn't say anything at all, that the words "I am writing a novel" have only come out in front of people that know full well that novel writing is something that I aspire to do.

It's like a secret society. People who want to make art, but are afraid of being labeled that asshole who always talks about that novel they'll never finish. People who want others to read their work, to give them the tongue lashing or pat on the back that they need or deserve. It's people who hack out sentence after sentence, sometimes planned, sometimes not, hoping that one day, maybe, they can sell their work and other people will read it and feel something. It's people who realize that that might not ever happen.

Writing a novel sucks. I have no shame in the fact that I hate every second of it. Writing-- well, writing I like. I love it. I have a ball trying to make something that I feel in the back of my skull and in the front of my chest into words and then for other people to read those words and feel the things I was feeling. It's a challenge, it's a sport. Writing is great. But the novel… The novel is a form of writing that I just don't even begin to understand. I read them and admire them. I try to dissect them. I try to think critically about the arc and movement of what is going on, and try to apply that to my own writing, but every time I try to sit down and do one, I get lost somewhere along the way and end up with a steaming pile of nothing.

The premise of my novel is not important. What's important to me are the challenges I face along the way. Character motivation, effective exposition vs. scene, how to keep the action moving forward while not stopping the full telling, things I've learned (and continue to learn) in school and whatever pops up along the way. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to offer answers to the questions I have, but hopefully there are others out there who can offer a helping hand.

Let us, the ashamed novel writers, the ones whose families ask what they are doing with their creative writing degrees, the ones who have big aspirations and little support, or anyone who just enjoys struggling with long form writing come together.

But let's not tell anyone, ok? I mean, my novel's not really ready for anyone to see…