I finished a complete draft of the novel I have been crafting on and off since 2016.
Though I met my goal to finish by 2024, the new year marks seven years and counting since I published my second novel, Goddess of the Night, in late 2016.
Fans of Californication could draw parallels between my situation and the lapse between Hank Moody’s third and fourth novels—a lapse humorously compared by Hank’s critics to the decade Guns N’ Roses spent producing Chinese Democracy.
For those who haven’t seen it, the Showtime drama revolves around Hank Moody’s writers block. In his writing, as in his life, he is his own worst enemy. He self-sabotages every break Hollywood gives him, every relationship he forms, every chance he has at forgiveness.
Hank Moody’s process differs from mine and that of many others. In the show, Hank will go months, if not years between writing stints until inspiration bursts violently from his consciousness like rain from cumulonimbus clouds. These drug- and alcohol-infused creative thunderstorms last a couple days and nights, culminating in a polished draft of a literary fiction bestseller.
Lessons from drugged-out literary luminaries
History is filled with rumors of authors similarly pulling substance-aided all-nighters. Using cocaine, Robert Louis Stevenson wrote 60,000 words in six days. Ayn Rand fueled her creative spurts with Benzedrine. Hunter S. Thompson used dextroamphetamine and, later in his career, cocaine.
Missing from these stories of drugged-out literary luminaries is the hard work involved behind the scenes. Take it from an ADHD writer—amphetamines are no substitute for routine.
Perspiration is more important than inspiration
Later in the Californication series, even freethinking, freewheeling Hank Moody tries to teach his daughter that libertine behavior does not make one a writer. He acknowledges the blood, sweat, and tears that stain every manuscript.
He tells her, “The only thing that makes you a writer is gluing your ass in a seat and getting what’s inside your head out on paper. Everything else is a pose.”
Bestselling author Gillian Flynn aptly echoes Hank’s sentiment, “There’s no muse that’s going to come down and bestow upon you the mood to write.”
Not even the psychedelic muses of the Beat Generation.
Putting in the time
With his novel stolen and his screenplay residuals spent, Hank takes a job at an all-girls private college. He tells his classroom of ingénues and aspiring authors that being a writer is like having homework every day for the rest of your life.
All novelists would agree.
In On Writing, Stephen King discusses sequestering himself in his office with the door closed. His instructions to himself and to his family are that unless the house is burning down, he is not to be bothered. King also writes every day of the year except Christmas. Then, he admits he is lying. He also writes on Christmas.
Overcoming self-imposed obstacles
To finish my latest novel, I had to invent my own writing routines—only to have them interrupted by life dozens of times. I had to work around day jobs and night jobs; depressive episodes, dermatomyositis, and multimillion-dollar proposal deadlines; dying friends and dying relationships; and worst of all, the pandemic—the antisocial shitstorm that made parasites of the masses and paralyzed my creativity for a year and a half.
After failing to reach my goal two years in a row, I partnered with my therapist to overcome my own specious barriers.
I bought a new (used) laptop and installed nothing on it but a Linux Mint instance and basic writing software. I adjusted my work schedule. I hunkered in my living room at dawn, before the world awoke to interrupt me. I found new coffee shops with better hours and policies that weren’t written by the Chinese Communist Party.
Most importantly, my therapist and I set a goal he held me accountable to—500 words per week.
After enough mornings, afternoons, evenings, and weekends, I finally hit my goal in December 2023. I finished my novel two weeks ahead of schedule.