I spent most of September at the Ucross Foundation, a retreat for writers and artists near Sheridan, Wyoming. The above photo shows my studio. Ucross is probably my favorite such retreat - I've always managed to get a lot of work done the three times I've been there. There are usually only about 8-9 people at residence at a time, and the place is huge - a 20,000 acre ranch (which works out to about 2500 acres per person, not bad). Made some great new friends (pic below), ate delicious food prepared by Cindy, our chef, managed to make some good progress on a math book for non-mathematicians, which I worked on steadily.
But what about my novel? Well, here's how that went.
First Week: Wrote several pages a day, and managed to get the first draft to where it was two-thirds complete. (Have been working on and off on this since Sep, 2000.)
Second Week: Tried to start the final third and realized that the problem I knew had been looming all along was now upon me. And there seemed no way to go past. Went meticulously through every possible option I could think of - nothing worked. Decided that perhaps the novel just wasn't meant to be. Angst, depression, indigestion, insomnia. Reluctantly gave up.
Third Week: Had a great idea for a completely different novel. Dove into it.
Fourth Week: Came back home with thirty pages of new novel. Quite pleased, though still suffering from insomnia, indigestion, etc from tabling 60,000 words of first novel.
Fifth Week (back home): Spoke to my agent and told her what had happened. She said that other authors had been just as convinced as I that they should give up on a novel - but that they usually found a way to work it out after a while. She wanted to read what I'd written. So I started putting it together for her - rereading it, cleaning it up, etc. And suddenly, it came to me. No, not a way out of the problem, but "WHAT THE NOVEL WAS ABOUT." Something staring me in the face, which I'd somehow failed to notice before.
Sixth Week (current): I'm starting from page one now, really cleaning things up. I feel I'm the kind of writer who needs to more or less perfect each chapter as I go along. I'd been trying to get through a rough draft of the whole thing, and that just didn't work very well. Much more optimistic now that I'll find a way out, though I won't know for some weeks - not until I've reworked the first two-thirds (which I'd already written) and try again to go past. (The feeling of dread that had been looming all summer due to the difficulty I knew was coming has dissipated, thankfully.)
Looking back at novels 1 and 2, I think I went through similar "ordeals by fire" for each. In "Vishnu" it happened right at Chapter 3 - I couldn't figure out how to prevent the ambulance from taking away Vishnu's body and ending the novel there and then. After being blocked for a year and a half, the solution turned out to be remarkably simple - left me a bit baffled why it took so long to figure out.
"Shiva" was even worse. I went for a month to the wonderful MacDowell Colony in summer, 2002 but ended up throwing away everything I'd written there. I just couldn't get a handle on Meera, and decided I'd simply not write about her - the novel would be about Ashvin, when he was grown up. Fortunately, I gave Meera one more chance, and this time, she let me in. Still took several more years.
So anyway. If the 2/3 complete novel works out, it will take a year or so more to finish. If not, it's anyone's guess how long I'll be slogging away. Ah, the glamorous life of a writer. Stay tuned.
Here's me together with the other residents - visual artist Travis Ivey (with the cat), writer Shannon Fowler next to him, composer Dennis Tobenski next to her (he's the one to thank for the photo - see more on his blog). In the row above, writers Edan Lepucki (whose essay on the experience you can read on The Millions) and Ben Fountain. And in the top row, next to me, visual artist Stephanie Ognar. Such a great group, and ah, we were all so happy.....