The ‘Difficult’ Second Novel
Writing a first novel is easy. Of course that is a big fat lie, but in comparison to writing a second novel, it really is. First time round, you can take as long as you like, you can write whatever genre you like or no genre at all. You may choose your own writing style and structure.
And if you are lucky enough to be published, it is easy to become smug and complacent. When my first, Unravelling Oliver, was published in March 2014, I thought it would come and go quietly and quite possibly sink without trace. It was an enormous shock and pleasant surprise when it stayed in the Irish Bestsellers list for four months.
When I was asked to appear on television and radio, I was flattered, and when my opinions were sought on other people’s books, the state of international publishing, and the quality of Irish theatre, I was bemused that anyone would think my opinion mattered. Foreign publishers bought the translation rights and Greek, Korean and German readers, among others, read my (translated) words.
I was invited to speak at literary festivals and libraries in Monaco and New York. In November that year, Unravelling Oliver was voted Crime Novel of the Year at the Irish Book Awards and in mid 2015, screening rights were acquired by ITV Drama. One would thing I was living the dream.
But while all this apparent success was going on, I was doing my best to wrestle the second novel on to the page. I made three false starts and then settled on a story. Much has been made of the ‘difficult second album’ syndrome. In fact, a writer pal with ten books under her belt tells me that they are all difficult, but surely the second one really is the hardest.
Firstly, you have a contract, which means a deadline. You can no longer write in your spare time or when you feel like it. It is now your job, so you must find a routine and a writing space that suits your needs (I’m still working on this).
The success of the first novel means that my publishers justifiably wanted a story of a similar sinister genre, so any ideas I had of writing the great literary novel had to be shelved for the time being.
The first draft of the second novel (fifteen months of work) was rejected. I recall whining to my editor ‘But was there anything you liked about it?’ Rather than saying no, she laughed. She sent me away with my characters and asked me to come up with a different story full of intrigue. I wept and cursed her for a few days and then realised that she was right. If people liked my first novel, why would I try to write something so radically different? As a writer, one does not get many chances, why would I throw away an opportunity to capitalise on something that actually worked?
I am now labelled as a writer of domestic noir, a term I find much more appropriate to me than crime. This is not because I disrespect the crime genre. Au contraire, I love it and read it constantly, but I am too lazy to do all of the research required with police procedure, detective work and legal ramifications, so I choose to write from the point of view of the murderer, the murder victim’s sister and the murderer’s son in the case of novel number two, Lying in Wait.
I rewrote the entire novel in five months, keeping just one character strand and introducing another two narratives, interweaving and overlapping the stories as I went. This was painful and painstaking work. I have done my best while being wracked with self doubt.
My editor and agent are delighted with my work. But now I can’t help thinking what if it doesn’t get into the bestseller list at all? What if it doesn’t even get nominated for a prize? What if the critics hate it? What if it isn’t any good? Expectations are high. Every second person I meet wants to know when the next book is out. Is it a sequel? (no). Is it being made into a film too? (in negotiation). They tell me they are looking forward to it. I am a people pleaser. I hate to let people down. They are depending on me to write a good book.
So while outwardly, everything is fine and dandy in the world of ‘Number 1 Bestseller Liz Nugent’, I am losing sleep and hair, and my nerve.
Why, oh why can’t I be the type to lose weight?
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Liz Nugent has worked in Irish film, theatre and television. She is an award-winning writer of radio and television dramas and has written short stories for children and adults. Her first novel, the No 1 bestselling Unravelling Oliver, won the 2014 IBA Crime Fiction Award. She lives in Dublin with her husband.
Find out more about her on her website http://liznugent.ie/
Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/lizzienugent
LYING IN WAIT
A MOTHER’S LOVE CAN BE MURDER
Lydia Fitzsimons lives in the perfect house with her adoring husband and beloved son. However, there is one thing Lydia desperately yearns for to make her perfect family complete, and nothing can stop this mother from getting what she wants…
This is a dark, twisty and utterly gripping domestic noir that you won’t be able to put down from the author hailed as Ireland’s answer to Gillian Flynn.
Further advance praise for Lying In Wait:
‘Taut, crisp, clear, a storm-warning of a book. It has the eeriness of The Turn of the Screw; but as these screws turn, a mighty tension takes hold. Masterly’ Sebastian Barry
‘I absolutely loved it. I thought it impossible to match the brilliant Unravelling Oliver, but Liz has. She keeps the reader on the edge of their seat from page one until
the completely unexpected ending’ Amanda Redman
‘A stunningly talented writer’ Sophie Hannah
Buy Lying In Wait HERE
Category: Contemporary Women Writers, How To and Tips, On Writing
Hi Liz, Really interesting read. My second novel came out a couple of weeks ago and I really am biting my fingernails to the quick waiting to get reviews etc. It felt like SUCH a different process this time round; as you say, you never get that ‘luxury’ of sorts again you had with the first novel to take all the time in the world and write in whatever style feels intuitive. Both your books look fab though and I wish you the best of luck with Lying in Wait! I’m sure it’ll do equally well by the looks of things.