November 8, 2021
How to Write a Novel about… – Three Questions Answered
Remember that post about five questions people ask Google about Dracula? It was inspired by Google’s autocomplete feature that reveals the most common questions about a certain topic as you begin typing. This leaves room for incredible stupidity – I’ve discovered people ask Google “Is the moon made of cheese?Perhaps I should’ve said "ignorance" instead of "stupidity". It’s plausible – a well-meaning individual might say – that the question is asked by very young children. On the other hand, I have a great memory, I remember my childhood very well, and I can assure you, though there was no internet when I was a kid, I certainly didn’t think the moon was made of cheese. Parenthetically, other questions are "Is the moon a planet?" and "Is the moon a star?"” – however it’s also an interesting tool for social research. In today’s post, I examine three questions beginning with “How to write a novel about…”
As with the Dracula post, starting this one I have no idea what I’ll get if I begin typing “how to write a novel about”, so I’ll brace myself and begin. Let’s get started!
How to Write a Novel about…
A note on methodology: I began typing the questions as you see them (i.e. completing the question “How to write a novel about…”) but the results you see might differ, depending e.g. on your location. If needed, I will also slightly modify the order the results appear, for instance, to avoid duplicate or near-duplicate questions.
…your life?
To me, this question reveals several key misunderstandings about writing. Though not a silly question (it certainly beats “Is the moon made of cheese?”) at the same time it reveals ignorance about writing. I should clarify that by “ignorance” I mean genuine ignorance, not stupidity. It’s the question of someone who would apparently like to write a book – likely their first book – about their own life.
Let’s clarify a couple of things.
A book about your life is called a biography – and if you wrote it yourself it’s an autobiography. It’s not a novel, because novels (even if based on true events) are fictitious and artistic. That is, their goal is not to narrate facts but to instigate an affective response.
When you’re asking “how to write a novel about your life”, you’re basically conflating two incongruous things. You should instead ask either of these:
- How to write a novel based on your life?
- How to write an autobiography?
Depending on what you’re truly after (and I suspect it’s the latter), the answer will vary. Not to mention, all books should be autobiographical, but that’s a different discussion.
…love?
Ah, why is this not surprising? Love, one of the most misunderstood concepts. In all honesty, despite my having sounded a bit sarcastic, I think love is a wonderful topic for literary exploration. After all, love is an integral part of our existence as social beings. No wonder artists have written, painted, sung, and performed in various ways about love.
I’ve written about love, too. All stories are love stories, in a way. The Perfect Gray was about a woman’s love for who she might be. Illiterary Fiction was about a man’s love for decency in an ocean of viciousness. The rest of my books also revolve around love, one way or another.
But none of them belongs to the romantic fiction genre.
Does this question ask “How to write romance fiction?” I suspect so. In that case, my advice is simple, though you won’t like it:
- Take a random romance fiction book.
- Change the characters’ names, professions, and locations.
- Mix-and-match random events, however, maintain the narrative progression:
- The protagonist (who’s independent and determined) hates the antagonist (who’s very arrogant), but has to coexist/cooperate with them for some reason.
- The protagonist falls in love with the antagonist; it’s a love-to-hate-to-love situation.
- The protagonist and the antagonist fall out and drift apart.
- The protagonist and the antagonist realize they can’t live without each other.
- Yawn…
I know, I’m being very cynical. If you’re a romance fiction reader or writer, you probably hate me right now. Give me one traditional romance fiction book that doesn’t follow the trajectory above and I’d be glad to reconsider. Hell, if you’ve written something genuinely different, I can review it and post in on the blog; let me know.
…war
Tricky question. “How to write a novel about war?” I’ll be perfectly honest with you: It’s not my field of expertise, either personally or as a writer. As a reader, I have of course read plenty of nonfiction books about the war, some novels where war was somewhat tangentially related, but virtually no war fiction.
Here’s a question for you: Is war fiction different from anti-war fiction?
I think we must answer, yes. By “war fiction” I’m thinking of adventures, Tom Clancy, and overall something perhaps entertaining (if you’re into such stuff; I’m not). On the other hand, I’m thinking of anti-war fiction as something fundamentally more literary-fiction-like: Something dealing with ethics, existential agony, morality. Something like Johnny Got His Gun or Slaughterhouse-Five.
With this in mind, I feel as if the question “How to write a novel about war?” asks about the former kind: something entertaining. If that’s the case, I can’t help you. Likely, the answer won’t be too different compared to romance fiction above. Get any Tom Clancy (or similar) book and copy the basic structure. Needless to say, this will be much easier if you have some life experience related to the topic.
On the other hand, if you’re asking “how to write an anti-war novel”, then I’d say this: It’s not about what the war is, but about what the war does.
“How to Write a Novel about…” Is not a Question about Writing
Surprised?
Before I explain myself, I should let you know that I began this post thinking I’d answer five questions, as I did with the Dracula post. I had to modify this because there were only four autocompleted questions beginning with “How to write a novel about…”
Parenthetically, the fourth one was “How to write a novel about high school?” and I only have one comment about it: No; please, no.
The fact that people only seem to ask how to write a novel about their lives, love, and war is quite interesting. Though this isn’t exact science (not by any stretch of the imagination), it seems many people consider writing a novel revolving around these topics. At the same time, it also seems people are aware that you can’t get a proper answer to such a question.
Not a proper literary answer, at least. I mean, you must’ve noticed that my own answers were rather tongue-in-cheek.
“How to write a novel about…” is not a question about writing. It’s a question about experiencing. In particular, “How to write a novel about…” is a question about translating experiencing into writing.
I can guarantee you, virtually all people who ask this question have not written a novel before. But they have an experience they feel is worth sharing, and they’re asking advice on that. If you’re indeed wondering how to do that, my post on imagination and creativity will answer the question perfectly. But in a nutshell, I’ll say this: All experiences are worth sharing. Don’t focus on the content of the experience – the plot doesn’t matter – but on the affective impact; how it made you feel.
4 Comments
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You sure made me laugh aloud this time, Chris, with the cookbook-style recipe of romance novels.
Do you have a recipe about science fiction books? The best kind that speculates about humanity’s future?
Like “The Dancers at the End of Time” book series by Michael Moorcock? I think of that masterpiece these days a lot when I read the news. If the only recipe you have about humanity’s future is that it hasn’t got one, don’t tell me. I already know. 🙁
Science fiction is an entirely different matter, I’m afraid 😀
Though, to be sure, we can certainly find some pulp, production-line efforts as well, there is enough diversity in science fiction, I’d say.
Thanks for your comment!
This is a most interesting post. I’m afraid Romeo and Juliet breaks your romance novel thing — if one follows Samuel Johnson’s stance that Shakespeare was meant to be read as well as staged. Then again, Shakespeare was a master entertainer. What entices my curiosity is this: there is never a way to write. To write genuinely, authentically, there’s never a way. That’s why it’s an inventive practice, one must invent, come up with, come upon, one’s own path. Carve it out. As the magnificent Argentinian writer César Aira said in an interview: One may surprise oneself through writing. That’s magic right there. Due to creative writing advisors and workshops these days, A lesson to be learned, indeed. I’m fascinated by how diverse and powerful are the themes — life, love, war —, yet no one suspects they are strictly unspeakable, undescribable, impossible to narrate — that’s why we write so much about them, ‘cuz we can never say enough, we never exhaust them, we’re never able to say what really matters about them, so we circle around forever, approaching ever more, yet never grasping them, never touching them completely. One may say we allude to them, albeit we never name them. That’s why they have so many names, so many faces throughout literary history. But what can one truly name? What can one truly claim? Love is undescribable, war is unspeakable, life is the necessary precondition for literature. We’re doomed to speak — the , as Aristotle’s visionary assertion clearly defined. If language’s innermost life is lived through literature, if, as Jerome Rothenberg argued, poetry is as ubiquitous as language, it is present in every society, primitive or advanced, technological or nomadic, then, I say yes, bring it on, give me more to read!
I have to disagree with César Aira! I definitely have to know the ending beforehand; indeed, I often begin from fleshing out the ending. It’s the way there that I might figure out in the process. Still, I really must agree with creativity being the most uncreative thing these days.
The problem is that much of the advice online is offered on a monetary fashion: As writing advisers, people want to sell a product, and this necessitates a graspable result. “Buy my course, and learn how to write in 3 weeks!” It’s all bullshit, of course. Here’s a disclaimer in the introduction of my book The Complete Writer:
I also really must agree with your reference to love, life, and war being beyond representation. That’s what makes them attractive to begin with: that they are beyond our grasp. Sublime-like, they inspire both awe and fascination, they scare us as well as pique our interest, and they are beyond definitions.