Don't blame the blog

Something about Sarah Hepola's announcement this past week on Slate that she was shutting down her blog so as to become a better writer rubbed me the wrong way. Ms. Hepola, a freelance writer with aspirations of becoming a novelist, explains her fateful decision thusly:

One morning last month, I woke early, finished a book I'd been reading, and shut down my blog. I had kept the blog for nearly five years, using it as a repository for personal anecdotes, travelogues, and the occasional flight of fiction -- all of which I hoped, eventually, might lead to a novel. And then, somewhere between the bedsheets and 6 a.m., I realized something: Blogging wasn't helping me write; it was keeping me from it.

To which I say, "Huh?" Maybe if you see all creative output as some kind of zero-sum game this idea might hold water, but it's been my experience that writing begets more writing. In fact, it was during my most bloggingest of times that my creative output soared -- just the opposite of what you might expect if you follow Ms. Hepola's logic. Now that my blogging activity has simmered down considerably, is it any surprise that my fictional writing has tapered off as well?

I know that Ms. Hepola is a professional writer, so I won't presume to tell her how to succeed at her craft. But having actually gone from start to finish on the first draft of a novel, I do offer this tiny bit of advice: writing a novel sucks. It sucks so bad that you can and will find any excuse not to do it, regardless of how much you pride yourself as a wordsmith. Up until this point it was your blog; next month it will be the season finales of Lost and The O.C.; then summer's ephemeral allures will seduce you into putting the whole effort off until after Labor Day, at which point the procession of Fall holidays will sucker-punch you into making "Start the novel" your New Year's Resolution for 2007.

It's not the blog. It's not even you, in all likelihood. Writing a novel sucks. It seems like a fabulous idea in theory, like learning Ancient Greek or climbing a mountain, but not only is the initial resistance almost impossible to overcome, you're likely not going to start even remotely enjoying yourself until you're contemplating the whole blasted endeavor in retrospect.

Yes, there will be the occasional so-many-thousandth-word milestone or a bit of well-turned purple prose that will briefly lull you into thinking that it was all worth it, but those moments are few and far between. Just as in hiking you spend the majority of your time below the treeline, one muddy aching plod after another, and when mastering a new language you rarely feel master of anything but endlessly adrift on a sea of your own incompetence, banging out that novel is a monumental heap of unpleasantness which fools like you and I mistake for a noble cause.

Now all of that being said, I still think you should write that novel. But don't be surprised if killing your blog doesn't turn out to be the magic bullet that you think it is (and if it does, mazel tov and sei gesund!). Every writer is unique, but my experience and that of countless others with whom I've spoken suggest that chances are the first draft of your first novel will compromise some of the least enjoyable writing you've ever done in your life. Clearly you have taken great pleasure in blogging -- consider keeping that facet of your creativity alive and well, if nothing else then as a means of remembering why it is you love stringing words one after another in sentences and paragraphs so much that you do such an awful thing as commit yourself to bringing an entire book into this world.

And good luck!