We’re thrilled to have multi-published author Stephanie Cowell back with us today for a guest post!
Stephanie is the author of Nicholas Cooke, The Physician of London, The Players: a novel of the young Shakespeare, Marrying Mozart and Claude & Camille: a novel of Monet. She is the recipient of an American Book Award. Her next novels (she hopes!) are Blanche and the Water Lilies (the story of the profound help and influence of Monet’s widowed daughter on his last great water lily paintings) and Robbie, a love story set in the English midlands 1900 between a young male artist and a married man. Her work has been translated into nine languages.
You can learn more about Stephanie’s work on her website.
The Ghost Worlds Within Me: A Novelist’s Journey
I first heard them as a young child, murmurs of another time and place. A low man’s voice, laughter, footsteps, a door closing. I was very young and quite alone a great deal. By the time I was eight, I had an imaginary friend. Where he came from I don’t know and only I could see him. He was lonely like me. I had to protect him.
My friend was my stability; I was an only child and the fractures in my parents’ marriage were running down the walls. I hid inside myself and in my room with the ghost worlds and ghost characters who assured me they loved me. They’d always been there for me. In a way I existed through them.
Where did the voices come from? Of course I read constantly and my ghost characters partially grew from my reading but also from deep inside me. By the time I was twelve, they became stories hand scribbled in a black-and-white school notebook. Museums, old houses, graveyards, empty streets inspired me. Then I banged out my worlds on my mother’s old typewriter. In my late teens I published several stories and then left writing to sing because writing was too lonely.
But the ghost world waited inside me and in my forties, it began to emerge again. I wrote four novels in seven years and at the end of that time, an editor from a good publishing house called me and said she wanted to buy my first novel with an option for the second. I lay in bed very faint the next day. I was about to open my inner world to strangers.
That book and the four that followed were great gifts …the things that happened to me, the people I met through them (including indirectly my husband and many dear friends), the events and the very welcome checks which paid for many extra things for my family. It was more than I could ever expect. And I found a lovely agent.
Then phrases began drifting into my world from agents and editors, ones I had not heard before: “Can you get your sales up?” “You write beautifully but that subject isn’t salable.” “Can it be about her brother rather than her love story?” “Nobody wants to hear about…” “You have to build a platform….” “We need more of a social media presence from you…”
I wanted to please the publishing world. I wanted them to want me. But with my novels that editors and agents said they wanted, my writing became forced and stiff, and they asked me, bewildered, “What’s wrong?” With the books I wanted most to write, I often received back the words: “Too difficult to market.” I thought with despair, “What does the publishing world want from my writing? What do I want? – and suppose they are different things?”
I found myself in the middle of what I fled from as a child: an entirely unpredictable world.
Finally I wrote my writer friend Susan and miserably confided in her. “I’m thinking about stopping, not writing any more novels. Pulling books together is too difficult and what they want from me is too difficult. Since I no longer work in a day job, I could work on my languages, take up country dancing, volunteer for the community garden. But I’m feeling so sad.” Suddenly my rich life full of friends and culture and travel seemed meaningless.
She wrote back at once, “I’m sure you DO want to keep writing because writing is what you do ― and being an author is who you are. Not ONLY who you are, but a major part of your identity. I think not writing would make you feel kind of rootless and depressed. It’s second nature.”
Yes, rootless and depressed…that is just what I felt, and I was wretched. So after five published novels and at least six more in draft form, I found myself asking what I wanted from writing.
I went for walks in the park. I read much of other people’s work, which thrilled me. I do believe that reassessing who you are and what things mean to you is something that we should do often.
Was it the business of writing that I missed?
I remembered something nice. For my fourth novel, my lovely editor had sent me a dark wicker box at Christmastime wound in ribbon and full of chocolates in gold wrappers and nectarines. I realized as I walked under the trees that I wanted to write something so marvelous that I would again find that box on my doorstep. I wanted all the attention of successful book publishing. Oh the marvelous hour when you are at a PR meeting and everyone is gushing over you!
But it’s a fleeting rush, like a sugar high from a dark wicker beribboned box of chocolates.
It wasn’t the business.
The ghost voices started whispering to me again, in my sleep and from my computer. I opened files and saw my incomplete stories and felt thrilled knowing that they could be full stories one day. The ghosts that came to me as a child and still ran down old wood winding steps in museums and side streets in England are still there; I had only been too overwhelmed with the demands of the ever-changing publishing world to hear them.
All of us on this site are writers. Some of us may write something that hooks into the public’s imagination and sells huge numbers of copies. Some may write literary works that find a small press. Some may self-publish or hybrid-publish; I have read several of these in the past year and found them simply wonderful.
I no longer want to spend time grumbling about the business. I want to return to the world that made it all begin, because in a way the worlds and people I write about are more myself than I am.
Last night again, voices woke me at two in the morning. They wouldn’t let me sleep. I tumbled to my desk and began to work on one of my unfinished novels. I first heard these ghosts and their worlds long ago. Here they are, changing as I have changed. Some may, with good fortune, find themselves in full book form within book covers; others may remain just within me and my friends. A low man’s voice, laughter, footsteps, a door closing and opening. Suddenly I love my life again. I love to write.
Have you ever found yourself so discouraged by the business side of writing that you’ve considered giving up the craft? If so, what changed your mind? What keeps you returning to the keyboard?
Susan Dormady Eisenberg says
March 22, 2019 at 7:53 amMs. Cowell’s essay really resonated with me. It’s as beautifully crafted as her marvelous novels but offers deeply felt insights for writers. Thanks so much for publishing it.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 1:07 pmThank you so much, my dear friend and colleague!
Vaughn Roycroft says
March 22, 2019 at 9:29 amCoincidentally, I was awakened by voices from my story at 4 am this morning. I’m almost two full manuscripts beyond the one I’ve been trying to sell for some time, so I feel like the clang and clatter of the marketplace grows ever more distant. And yet, the voices of my characters continue to resonate, ever clearer.
Thanks, Stephanie, for this lovely, inspiring, and reassuring essay. I think often of the serendipity of the day Therese and I ran into you in Midtown, and you led us to your hidden gem of a restaurant for such a delightful lunch… Particularly the company. Wishing you the best with your project!
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 10:26 amI remember our lovely lunch, Vaughn, and hope we can do it again sometime. Let me know when you’re in NYC. I have also so loved some of your articles over the years! I think we went to Bonne Soupe and sat upstairs near the balcony. – Stephanie
Vijaya says
March 22, 2019 at 9:40 amStephanie, how beautiful it is to return to our original motivations to write. I am in that space too, right now, and loving it. There’s nothing better than day-dreaming and capturing them into words. I only wish the process didn’t tangle them so badly that I’d have to rewrite…but even rewriting/reimagining has become a pleasure. Thank you for your beautiful words–I enjoy knowing the childhood and youth of artists.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 11:31 amThank you so much! I think rewriting makes our own story clearer for others but the pure stage when it is just ours is like being in love!
Tom Bentley says
March 22, 2019 at 10:16 amStephanie, this piece flows like a meandering river, with dips and turns and splashes, but with a steady undercurrent of integrity. Lovely stuff. May those voices keep whispering their sweet somethings.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 11:32 amThanks very much, Tom! Lovely words!
Emily Reynolds Antonen says
March 22, 2019 at 10:43 amThanks for this post, Stephanie. It reminds me to bless all the agents, editors, and publishers who summon courage and employ skills to turn literary uniqueness into commercial success without battering it into traditional genre mold.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 11:34 amIt is lucky when we find those editors and agents and I have found them several times and feel very fortunate! Here’s hoping for all of us!
Linda says
March 22, 2019 at 10:52 amBeautiful description of the inner life of a writer. Thank you for sharing what so many of us feel.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 11:35 amThank you, Linda!
Judith Robl says
March 22, 2019 at 11:05 amThank you for speaking my heart and mind. I’ve been in the “too busy” doldrums for far too long. You’ve encouraged me to let my characters speak and move at will.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 1:13 pmThank you! Sometimes I tell myself, just write for fifteen minutes. And sometimes once the characters begin to speak, I look up and an hour has gone by.
Nora says
March 22, 2019 at 11:06 amI am in the middle of this now. I’ve been writing for so long and I love it so much, but after so much failure with the business side (many unpublished manuscripts, hundreds of agent rejections, dozens of short stories slowly racking up rejections after months of silence) I feel like giving up. Why spend so much time and effort on something that no one wants? But giving up makes me sad. I don’t know. I hope I can learn to love it again.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 1:11 pmThank you! Sometimes I tell myself, just write for fifteen minutes. And sometimes once the characters begin to speak, I look up and an hour has gone by.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 3:41 pmI think you can by just sitting down and writing quietly, pushing all thoughts of the publishing world from your mind….just you and your dream. Someone wants your dreams to begin with: you and likely some dear friends. But YOU want them…that’s the main thing. I try to remember that…and not how much I want another box of chocolates!
Janet Oakley says
March 22, 2019 at 11:08 amLovely piece, Stephanie. Writing historical fiction is daunting at times and then having to market, worry about numbers. I’ve decided to just carry on and do it. I’m stuck right now with a sequel I’m working on. I’m waiting on the “ghosts” in the story to come forward and lead me to the ending I have already written.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 23, 2019 at 4:27 pmI hope your ghosts show up soon! I am waiting for a few myself! x
Veronica Knox says
March 22, 2019 at 11:13 amThank you for this beautiful reminder, Stephanie.
The author’s joy of writing and the gatekeeper’s joy of selling are different kettles of fish.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 22, 2019 at 3:42 pmYes, so beautifully expressed!!
Anna says
March 22, 2019 at 11:17 amStephanie, your essay is a wonderful testament to our need to stay faithful to our own visions and to resist the body blows from well-meaning advisers.
Robin Riopelle says
March 22, 2019 at 11:42 amThis is exactly what I needed to read this morning. Your central question, “What do I want out of my writing?”, is such a good one. After having a novel published, I’ve found myself so stuck, not writing, pretending to write, avoiding writing — and very unhappy, because I remember the sheer joy writing has always been for me.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 23, 2019 at 4:30 pmWe need to try to always find that personal place of joy…it’s so wonderful. Thank you for reading my little blog post!
Deborah Gray says
March 22, 2019 at 12:18 pmWhat a beautiful, captivating post. I intended to skim it this morning because of the usual demands of my business. Instead, I found myself drinking in every word and wishing I had ghost worlds within me. I know you’ve lived with your share of angst and doubt, but having ghosts as muses must be wonderful all the same.
I’ve never considered giving up writing. I always have words, phrases and stories swirling around my head. But inertia, procrastination and doubt about my ability to succeed in a new genre have amounted to almost the same thing for me in the past couple of years.
I’ve had moderate success with my non-fiction, but I dream of wider recognition for something riskier and closer to my heart. I’ve recently picked up the thread again and your post is a reminder to keep the dream alive, no matter where it leads.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 23, 2019 at 4:34 pmI am so glad you liked the article, Deborah…just do what you love to do. Thank you for responding and good luck to you!
LJ Cohen says
March 22, 2019 at 12:22 pmI so needed to read this today. Thank you.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 23, 2019 at 4:34 pmI am so glad you liked it!
liz michalski says
March 22, 2019 at 12:55 pmThank you so much for this post. It’s beautiful and very, very, true.
Stephanie Cowell says
March 23, 2019 at 4:35 pmThanks for reading it and liking it!
Alicia Butcher Ehrhardt says
March 22, 2019 at 2:34 pmHave you ever found yourself so discouraged by the business side of writing that you’ve considered giving up the craft? If so, what changed your mind?
Yes. The marketing side of mainstream fiction is amazingly difficult when you’re indie. If you write genre, there are groups and advertising systems and lots of covers and support.
If you write mainstream novels, you’re on your own. I’m in those groups, but the ideas that are usable to someone who will only write a few novels and aims for top quality are… infrequent.
I have this conversation with myself periodically: why put all that effort in when I already know the story?
The answer is always the same: I know what happens. I know my characters. I know the end. But I don’t know the how, and the how is the best part. Polishing a dialogue exchange until it is witty and snappy and spot on is one of the greatest joys of writing. Discovering the art in getting all the ideas assigned a scene to come together in one slippery shiny path through is breathtaking.
I make it be exactly as I need it to be.
And when I get it right, I can read it that way as many times as I go back.
You don’t get that any other way than by putting in thousands of hours of work. Ask the prima ballerina, the first violinist, the winning athlete.
This is what always changes my mind.
Beth Havey says
March 22, 2019 at 5:49 pmThank you Stephanie. You have given me the courage to listen to my voices, to love my fingers on the keys and to not give up at any level. Writing is me. I must write.
Patricia Dusenbury says
March 22, 2019 at 6:23 pmThank you for this post. It expresses the discouragement I’ve often felt and am trying not feel now. Your words help.
Andrea Simon says
March 22, 2019 at 8:11 pmDear Stephanie,
A beautifully written, inspiring post, which reads like a short story. I’m so glad you have decided to listen to those voices and sounds; they are calling for you to give them life. Here’s hoping you are filled with chocolates and nectarines.
Marta says
March 23, 2019 at 3:26 pmI have never wanted to give up writing, but I have wanted to give up trying to be published. Like you, I’m an only child, and I spent a lot of time alone growing up while my parents dealt with their own challenges. Characters or imaginary friends were always with me. I’ve had one novel published, but that publisher folded and I’m back to square one and suspecting my first publisher’s ending isn’t helping matters. It’s discouraging to say the least. But I do keep writing and the stories pile up. Two things keep me returning to the keyboard.
One, the stories don’t stop. They’re in my head and want out.
Two, I don’t want my son to see me give up on my dream. Maybe he’ll think I’m mad, but I really would be mad if I stopped.
Lovely post. Thank you.
Nancy West says
March 24, 2019 at 11:35 amA lovely post. Thank you for sharing!
Mitchell James Kaplan says
March 24, 2019 at 12:54 pmStephanie, your voice, which comes through loud and clear in this piece, is itself a dear friend to your readers, a part of you that exists outside yourself and that you offer to them (like a basket of chocolates). What a pleasure to spend a moment in your company, reading of your journey, your hopes and joys and disappointments as you repeatedly attempt to reconcile inner and outer worlds.