Help! I’m doing what all those first time novels do…you know, the thing that I scoff at and look down my nose at them for and swear that I will never ever do.
I was sitting in the sauna at the gym (you know, to help loosen my muscles) and started thinking about Julia’s story. I’ve been having trouble with several scenes during editing, in addition to the overall mourning-ness of it. Then it hit me. Everything that was causing me problems (so far) could be linked to one thing: I was writing my response to these events, not Julia’s.
I’m shy. It takes quite a while for me to open up about much of anything, let alone about an emotional experience like death, so I can only imagine that should one of my parents die in a plane crash, I would instantly turn inward and not let anyone in (very healthy, I’m sure). However, that’s not Julia. If she meets a stranger, she’d tell them what was going on. She’s more outgoing than I am…and that’s hard for me to imagine and thus hard to translate to paper.
Now I understand why so many first novels are considered thinly veiled autobiographies. I don’t want that. Need to shake myself out of myself.
Any suggestions as to how?