In general, I’m a writer who prefers to work behind the scenes, secretly, and I don’t share anything about my current project. Not even with close friends.
It’s not that I’m worried about ideas being stolen. What worries me more is superstition. I do not want to release the story from the trap of my mind for fear it will wander off, and I’ll lose momentum.
For some strange reason, this time I can’t seem to shut up about my novel-in-progress. It feels urgent.
This is my first historical novel, and it’s occupying at least 90% of my brain space. In true form, I figured I’d write a dual perspective because I love that idea, and it feels like a delightful cheat for me. This novel will take place in both 2025 and the mid-1800s.
As I’ve spent a few weeks at residencies in Nova Scotia and Tennessee, I’ve watched with a meditative eye how the novel takes up my attention, sometimes blinding me to the beauty in my daily life.
The novelist destroys the house of his life and uses its stones to build the house of his novel. —Milan Kundera
Artists and writers must balance living and creating. What fulfills us, likewise, is what we can best share with the world to have the most impact.
My novel is about a woman who refused to stay small, despite being thought of as “too much,” then and even now. Hers is a story that offers me inspiration that I hope to share. And it is a story with quite a bit of mystery and disappointment as to what was and is true, and what was sensationalized.
After two “warm-up” novels, I’ve learned to seek out the bones of the story to best write scenes. This doesn’t mean outlining everything, but it does mean asking how each scene lends itself to the overarching change—or plot—that is occurring.
With writing coaching clients, I recommend creating a sort of proposal, as though you are ready to query what you’ve already begun. Something along the lines of a synopsis, a title, and a clear sentence or two about what has changed in the character from the opening to the ending.
To me, this is enough of an outline because it leaves just enough room to move and grow and adapt, but also reminds me to stay on track.
While I may still keep some of my cards close, I’m feeling less compelled by superstition and more compelled by a realization that this novel is a living and pulsing thing, always changing. And it’s not just my story, even though it’s fiction.
I have met with researchers and historians to gather information, which means (as I always tell my leadership students), I now have people who were consulted. And a person consulted is a stakeholder.
This novel is a group effort and is catalyzed by a brilliant woman’s life. I’d say she was before her time, but I am sure she’d struggle with the same message today. She is beyond our time, and her story will, I hope, bring some hope.
I will nurture it and help it to grow by returning to the heartbeat of the story, being generous and curious about my subject, and balancing my productivity with appreciation for all that occurs in my daily life.
If you are embarking on a writing or artistic journey, especially one that is longer form, I applaud you. I’d love to know how it’s going and how you begin.
For more information on Jen Knox 
Jen Knox | writer portfolio
https://www.jenknox.com/
Columbus, United States
Jen Knox is an award-winning writer and writing instructor/workshop leader based in Columbus, Ohio. Her writing portfolio includes publications in The Best Small Fictions, and she is the winner of the San Miguel Essay Prize, the Montana Prize in the Essay, and the Press Americana Prize for Prose.
