Giving Birth To A Book
How writing a book is the same as having a baby, but without the gas and air.
As a mother and a writer, I’ve often thought that the process of becoming a writer is akin to having a baby. ‘Oh lovely! Is this your first book?’ they ask, or ‘When is this one due out?’ There is this enormous pressure to hurry up and prove to the world that yes, I have actually been producing something over this last number of months, I haven’t just been sitting on my ass watching daytime television and gorging myself on crisps and chocolate (ok –maybe occasionally!). Somehow I need to justify that whilst it’s not quite ready yet, it is coming soon, honestly. I’m just a little overdue.
Then as soon as you give birth to the damn book and hold it in your hands, everyone wants to know when are you going back to ‘work’, as though staying at home to help this little book make its way out into the world is not really work in itself. Oh, but it is you see, and like little darling children, these books require a huge amount of energy and resources, they test your patience and send you to the edge of despair. Occasionally you will look at what you have created and feel a sense of pride and love, but at other times all you can think about is what a huge mess you are making of this job, and wonder why you gave birth in the first place. Parentship and authorship are states intertwined.
Much like a mother who decides to become a fulltime parent, in the nine years or so since I decided to become a writer I’ve been presented with questions that have carried with them the suggestion that I’m a slacker, a kept woman, a giver-upper. At dinner parties or outside the school gates, people seem to have the impression that I’ve spent the past number of years on some kind of extended holiday, and now it’s time I started to pull my weight again. Often I’m caught on the back-foot, not sure how to respond. ‘Oh you know, I’m still working away at this book,’ I say, with a gnawing sense of shame. I’ve never felt equipped to answer the suggestion that writing is not a ‘real job’, in the same way that fulltime mum’s often struggle to find a comeback, knowing only too well the absolute grind and toil the whole thing is.
I left a career as a project manager so that I could pursue my dream of being a writer and spend more time with my children. I was under no illusions that both these tasks would be a walk in the park, but again, much like having children I hadn’t known the strength to which it would stretch my capabilities and tenacity, how becoming a writer would be the making of me.
So, for those who are interested to know how us writers whittle away our hours at home, I’d like to give you some insight, in the hope that when you meet another writer you won’t feel apt to shame them. Instead you will see the merit in all the unseen hard work that they do, and know exactly what is required to be a writer.
Being a writer requires courage. Many people thought that I was crazy to give up a successful career in order to pursue a childhood dream of being a writer, and indeed I knew that I risked failure, but I also knew that if I didn’t take that risk I would never know what I was capable of. I would always have a sense of regret. Deciding to take risk is a fundamental skill for achieving success, and had I not taken the step to leave my job I was simply holding myself back out of fear. So, I wasn’t making a move to give-up everything I had worked for, I was taking the courageous step of going for what I really wanted.
Being a writer requires dedication. Writing is a craft that must be practiced and improved over a long period of time. I had decided I wanted to be a writer when I was fifteen years old, and I had been writing for many years on a part-time basis (unbeknown to many). I didn’t simply decide overnight that I wanted to be a writer. It wasn’t some fanciful whim, but something I had debated for quite some time. Writing is a huge commitment, and like becoming a musician or an artist it requires dedication.
Being a writer requires grit. When I embarked on my journey I hadn’t grasped just how much work it take to produce 90,000 words on paper. There’s the planning and researching, the pinning down the plot and weaving the threads together, the undoing and redrafting until you have something that feels right, that expresses the heart of what it is you want to say to the world. This takes months and years, with nowt to show for it. I had no monthly salary or bonus, no team night out, or pat on the back. This takes self-discipline, perseverance, and a hell of a lot of grit.
Being a writer requires optimism. We writers are told that rejection is all part of the territory, something to be expected, but it still sucks. My first book was turned away by many agents, and each time it hurt, like someone was telling me that my baby was not quite beautiful enough. There’s getting your hopes up when someone calls, when interest is shown, only to see that light at the end of the tunnel peter out again. And each time the door closes you have to pick yourself up and move on. That takes a hopeful outlook, is requires finding a thread of positivity to pull you back again.
Being a writer requires becoming the boss. As a project manager I was used to working against timelines, but these were always defined by someone else; a boss or client. With writing I quickly realised that setting timelines and goals was up to me, there was nobody else to cajole me into finishing my book. I had to become my own boss, learning to self motivate and congratulate, soothe and resolve. When faced with rejection and criticism, I had to dig deep to understand that this book was worth forging ahead with, I had to go through a process of self-doubt, soul searching, and sleepless nights, until I finally arrived back at that place of self-belief, embracing the role of taskmaster again.
Being a writer requires tolerance. When people got wind of the fact I was writing a book, they felt an urgency to tell me how such-and-such had bagged a three-book deal with Penguin, or how about that sixteen year old debut author who got a six-figure sum. Why can’t you do that? They were trying to say. It can’t be that difficult. And then there were those who even made an effort to cut out pieces from newspapers about writers who had ‘really’ made it. They sent these cuttings to me in the post, because maybe I’d like to pin them up on my wall of shame. Gee thanks, as if the agent and publisher rejections weren’t enough, now let me just go and slit my wrists. This was a lesson in handling myself in the face of being belittled and ridiculed. It required huge reserves of open-mindedness, patience, tolerance and the wearing of a very thick skin.
Being a writer requires pushing boundaries. And then, with all the newspaper cuttings binned, I had to pick myself up and go on the road with my one-woman sales and marketing team. As a project manager I had never done a chat show on live radio, undertaken a television interview, stood up in front of hundreds of people I’d never met to make a speech, or shared public readings of my own work. I was petrified beyond reason, but as a writer it was required of me. So I pushed myself through the fear, and past the boundaries I thought were impenetrable, and in doing all these things I proved that I can.
Being a writer requires gratitude. Finally there’s that precious time, that wonderful fleeting moment when I realised that perfect strangers had gone onto Amazon and bought my book. I could see the figures in real-time on my iPad, I could see where they were in the world, and the very thought of it blew me away. And then many of them, without being asked or cajoled, took the time to make a review, to share their thoughts and feelings on my book. As I read those reviews I wished I could reach out to thank each and every one of them. That was my reward, and for those readers I feel enormous gratitude.
Would I have acquired all these things had I stayed in my job as a technical project manager? I very much doubt it.
I hope that this answers all the lingering questions about what writers do with their abundance of time, and that should you meet a writer, you won’t ask them when its due, or if they have heard of the writer who had five publishers bidding for her unfinished book. And for God’s sake, do not ask when they are returning to work. Writing is their work; being risk takers, dream makers, the courageous and the brave.
Now it’s time for me to get on with the business of producing another book. Please pass me the gas and air!
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Olivia Rana has a Masters of Art in Creative Writing from Queen’s University, Belfast. Her debut novel, Elastic Girl was self-published in November 2017. Set in India, Elastic Girl explores the issue of trafficking through the eyes of a young girl who is sold into the circus. Endorsed by Joanne Lumley, 15% of the profits from each book have been pledged towards the charity Child Rescue Nepal.
Rana’s second Novel, Black Beach, which is set in Iceland, is now out for publication. Both Elastic Girl and Rana’s second novel, Black Beach received an award through the Arts Council for Northern Ireland under their Support for Individual Artists Programme.
Olivia Rana lives in Belfast with her husband and two young children. She is a member of Women Aloud NI, a collective of female writers from across Northern Ireland and she teaches a novel-writing course at Queens University. Olivia is currently working on her third novel.
–Follow Olivia on Twitter https://twitter.com/Oliviarana2
– Elastic Girl is available to buy on Amazon.
Category: Contemporary Women Writers, How To and Tips
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