Killing the butterfly
Killing the butterfly
On first lines and starting a new writing project
Yesterday afternoon I sat down in my writing chair and began a new project. That is, I typed up about 500 words in a blank document, giving it some generic title (this one’s called ‘Madison novel’). I’d been thinking about the project for a long time. I’d been carrying the first line around in my head for a while. I think this is how most writers do.
I find it hard to start a new project without a first line, even knowing that what I write probably won’t end up being the actual first line. There’s something grounding about a first line. Even if I have the idea, I often can’t start really writing until the first line comes to me. Sometimes the first line that comes to me is wrong and then the whole thing sort of falls apart.
Sometimes the first line is enough. One of my favorite short stories I’ve written, which became a chapbook published by the amazing Leesa Cross-Smith before she got famous, started with the first line and just rushed out from there, like the character was whispering in my ear: “Joey Votto should be the Face of Major League Baseball, even though he’s Canadian and plays for one of the smallest market teams.” Still true.
My friend Ellen Airgood is great at first lines. She gave me the first line to my young adult novel, FAIR GAME—“Was owning the world as easy as the boys made it look?” Perfect. A good first line lets the reader know exactly where we’re going.
It felt like time to start a new project. I’ve been working on a collection of short stories that might be a novel in stories or might just be a chaotic mess. It’s hard to say one way or the other. It’s hard to tell the difference between being done with a project and just losing patience with it. I’m not sure the short stories are done, but they could use the fresh air of a bit of time spent thinking about something else.
Also, launching a book by yourself is A LOT. There’s a whole series of posts coming eventually about what I’ve learned from this whole self-publishing thing. I thought traditional publishing was stressful but it doesn’t really compare. There were tears and days spent lying on the floor with my face in my cat’s soft belly (which let’s be honest, is a fairly common occurrence for me). At one point I said to my poor, long-suffering partner, “I’ve written a book that people have bought but no one will ever be able to read!” In retrospect, a tad melodramatic. At the moment, I totally believed it.
The hard thing about self-publishing is the sense that somehow you’re in control. Whether the book succeeds or fails is ALL ON YOU. In traditional publishing, you can blame the marketing team or timing or luck or whatever particularly convenient scapegoat feels most satisfying. When you self-publish, it feels like it’s just you and so you must DO SOMETHING.
All sense of control is an illusion, even when it comes to trying to get a book out into the world. I’ve worked very hard, but also, checking my Instagram account or the Amazon sales rank for the twelfth time that day is not really accomplishing anything except giving me a quick boost of anxiety.
A new project is all shiny hope. This will be THE BOOK. This is the one I’ll knock out of the park. This will be my breakthrough. This book will be magic. Then I kill the butterfly.
This is how Ann Patchett described writing a novel, like killing a butterfly:
…I reach into the air and pluck the butterfly up. I take it from the region of my head and I press it down on my desk, and there, with my own hand, I kill it. It’s not that I want to kill it, but it’s the only way I can get something that is so three-dimensional onto the flat page. Just to make sure the job is done, I stick it into place with a pin. Imagine running over a butterfly with an SUV. Everything that was beautiful about this living thing—all the color, the light and movement—is gone. What I’m left with is the dry husk of my friend, the broken body chipped, dismantled, and poorly reassembled. Dead. That’s the book.
For now, though, it’s still a butterfly. It’s still, like writing FAIR GAME during the pandemic was, a safe space to live inside for a while, getting to know the characters. Imagining all the possibilities. Getting lost in that world. Anchoring myself to that first line over and over again.
Big news about FAIR GAME! We have events! So excited to get out and talk to people about the book.
Tuesday, August 15, 5:30 - 6:15, Madison Public Library. Girls vs. Boys: Exploring Gender and Athletic Performance. Follow-up reception and book signing at Red Roaster.
Monday, August 21, 7:00, Joseph-Beth Booksellers-Rookwood. Cincinnati.
Saturday, September 16, Village Lights Bookstore (more details to come and Village Lights will also have a few copies to buy in-store).
Saturday, October 21, Kentucky Book Festival, Joseph-Beth Booksellers-Lexington.
Hopefully, more events to add soon. Louisville and Kentucky folks, Carmichael’s Bookstore will be stocking copies of FAIR GAME and I’ll be popping in to sign copies soon, so stay tuned for that.
Also, I have 9 ratings on Amazon! Thank you, you lovely people. I love every review, by (you should be reading her newsletter, ) and Jennie Pritchard’s entire family (Go Pritchard’s!). Given that the Women’s World Cup begins next week and Megan Rapinoe recently announced her retirement and had such amazing things to say about advocating for trans women and girls in sports, I had to highlight this one from Ashley Eden, especially, who was kind enough to be an early reader for the book. Thanks, Ashley.
Finally I’m trying something new here, inspired by and the amazing Kathy Fish. If you haven’t taken a flash fiction course from her, do it. I know a yearly subscription can seem like a big commitment and a monthly subscription is much cheaper, but then you have to remember to cancel it and it’s a whole thing. So instead, if you appreciate this newsletter, just click the button below and buy me a cappuccino. Or a beer. Simple. Easy. No commitment. Like a tip.