What happens when a novel is "finished"?

Hint: it's never finished.

This week, I “finished” my second novel.

I feel compelled to put quotation marks around the word “finished” because now I’m on to next steps: editing, re-reading, and (possible-but-not-guaranteed) publication. My friend Ariel Lawhon once told me, ‘A novel is never done, it’s due.’ Which just makes me wonder, why in the world did I choose this job in the first place?

Why make art at all?

A little about the book I’ve been working on for the past 5+ years: The novel, Burst Into Song, is a multigenerational family saga that chronicles the lives of three women, all of whom are touched in some way by adoption. The title is based on the Bible verse Isaiah 54:1 — “‘Rejoice, barren one, who did not give birth; burst into song and shout, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the forsaken one will be more than the children of the married woman,’ says the Lord.” The very first time I read that verse, I stopped in my tracks. That verse epitomizes for me the power of Hope. Even when all seems lost, the story isn’t over.

The manuscript is 108,400 words – about 224 single-spaced pages. It represents years of my life, thousands of dollars paid to babysitters, one incredible trip to Italy, and countless tears shed. Now I will start to share it with a small circle of readers. Soon, I’ll hear whether they like it, hate it, or think it needs to be utterly reworked. Soon, I’ll know whether I’m actually “done,” or about to head back to the drawing board.

Needless to say, my stomach is in knots.

Confession time. Sometimes I think I’ve made a huge mistake choosing a creative profession. Why did I do this to myself? Why did I choose this career? I was Phi Beta Kappa. I used to speak Chinese. I could have been in the State Department. I would have, could have, should have…. fill in the blank. When the creative work gets hard, it’s easy to think that life in a less-artistic/subjective field would be easier. But I know that’s not true. Work is hard, no matter how you slice it. Work inherently comes with big risks. And whether you are a parent, an interior designer, an entrepreneur, a business manager, or a coach — the risks are exactly the same.

Even success is fleeting: You prepare a beautiful meal that people will enjoy and then (ahem, you know) flush down the toilet. You paint a house, but soon enough you’ll have to paint it again. You make a TV show, and maybe it’s hot for one second, until some other TV show comes along and pushes it out of its #1 spot. Every “hot young thing” is on her way to becoming a “has been.”

If all that is true (and it is) — why try?

Since humiliation is possible and success is fleeting, why not (1) stop creating altogether or (2) keep what you’ve created hidden, for fear of public failure?

Most people choose either 1 or 2.

But — my opinion is — life is a lot more rich, a lot more fun, and a lot more joyful, if you get on the ride and take the risk.

Here’s an example. My father was in the Army for 27 years, and after retiring, he launched an entirely new career as an athletic director at a small liberal arts college. He grew their athletics programs, built new teams, financed new facilities, helped the college advance from Division 2 to Division 1 in the NCAA. (In short, it was a ton of work.) But resistance mounted — the costs were high, the risks were higher, and by the end of my father’s time there, the college President was already beginning to dismantle everything my father had built. All that work, poof. Gone.

But was it really gone? Was all that work a waste? Absolutely not! Sure, the athletic programs my father built did not last forever. But my father’s presence undoubtedly made a positive impact athletes and coaches that were there during his tenure. There were fun football and basketball and lacrosse games and endless bags of stadium popcorn and great memories made and sure, it didn’t last forever, but it was good, because my father knew then what I’m trying to remember now: Colossians 3:23 — Whatever you do, work at it with all of your heart, as to the Lord and not unto men.

Here’s the truth about art: the results are not in your control. The results are none of your business. Success and failure are both fleeting. What is permanent is your relationship with God, who loves you.

So, why make art?

Because, in a world when everything will soon fade and everything will soon be forgotten, why not?

I hope that my book is finished. I hope that what I created is of some value to future readers. I believe in what it is, I have worked very hard on the story. Is it “done?” Probably not. But it is due, and the time has come to let others in on this process.

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Me with the incredible (and very successful) Elizabeth Strout after a Parnassus Books’ event at MBA last week, celebrating the launch of her newest novel, Tell Me Everything.

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You’re Invited!

Join me in two weeks — on  Sunday night, October 13th — for a live anniversary show of the Morse Code Podcast at the Five Spot in East Nashville! Tickets are $10, and you’ll get to see live music, short films, plus hear from two of my good writer friends, Yurina Yoshikawa and Liz Riggs! You won’t want to miss this. (Here’s a link to my podcast episode with host Korby Lenker, from earlier this year.)

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Recent Favorites:

Read: As a writer, sometimes I get the great privilege of getting an advanced reader copy — and I recently had a chance to read Lauren Francis Scharma’s soon-to-release book, Casualties of Truth. OOH! It’s so good! It’s a juicy thriller plus a historical account of the Truth-and-Reconciliation hearings that took place in post-apartheid South Africa in 1996. Chilling! Pre-order it now!

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One More Thing…

My heart has been breaking this week for the families and communities of Western North Carolina, East Tennessee, and Upstate South Carolina. I am planning to host a spaghetti dinner at my house to raise money for the American Red Cross. If you happen to live in Nashville and are interested in participating in such a dinner, please reply and I will include you on the list. If you aren’t in the area or aren't available, please consider donating to The American Red Cross.