Five For Five

What all my novels have in common

My first year as a full-time writer was unexpectedly prolific.

I finished writing my first novel on December 8, 2021, and on November 28th, 2022, I finished writing my fifth.

These books tell five very different stories, but they have several things in common. As a self-reflective author, I could view these commonalities as a lack of skill or desire to produce varied content. But I’d rather view them as a unique specialty, one that allows me to write consistently consumable stories using my greatest strengths and passions as a writer.

The five things my first five novels have in common.

1. They are character-driven narratives.

2. They are told from first person point of view.

3. They are set in loosely defined, contemporary worlds.

4. They are, at their core, love stories.

5. They have an epilogue.

Photo by Dave Poore on Unsplash

1.

My characters are in the driver’s seat and I’m riding shotgun.

Destination? Unknown.

I’m a pantser. Full stop.

The one time I tried to plot a novel before I wrote it was a disaster. Because for me, plotting a book from beginning to end before I start writing it is like composing a failure manifesto.

If I plot, I will stray, and if I stray, I have failed. According to myself.

So, I don’t outline ahead of time. I don’t believe I can know the whole story before my characters have a chance to tell it. At the start, I will have an idea of where things are going and where they’ll end up.

But I’m almost always wrong.

I’ve discovered that by letting my characters explore and react to obstacles as they appear, the plot naturally takes shape. And as the author, I get to experience the satisfying jolt of an unexpected pothole or sharp turn along the way.

The disadvantage of not starting with a hooky plot or premise, of course, is that my stories are a harder to pitch. They’re mostly about relationships and internal struggles and everyday adventures. That makes them “quiet,” but I also think it makes them accessible.

As writers we’re advised to write what we know and to write the books that we want to read. I do this.

When I start a story, I focus on building memorable characters first. People I really want to hang out with—and a few I’d rather not. I give them goals, conflicts, and an open road.

Then I give them the car keys.

And buckle up.

2.

I. Me. Mine.

I’ve read many novels told exquisitely from third person point of view. I just haven’t written one yet.

My happy place is first person, present tense. Lucky for me, this is the “trend” in the current YA space, which is where four of my five novels exist.

Getting into the headspace of a protagonist is the juiciest part of writing for me. It’s where I get to feel what they’re feeling, the moment they feel it. To react to their circumstances, with their guts, their impulses, while possessing their flaws. In first person, everything that is theirs becomes mine, and it’s incredibly cathartic.

I laugh and cry a lot while I’m writing because I’m reacting in real time to what’s happening on the page, like I’m watching a film. It is always my hope, that by creating a sensory, emotional experience for myself as the writer, I can create a similar experience for you as the reader.

3.

Where does the story take place? Um … you tell me.

If character building is my strength, world building is my weakness. I’m not exactly well traveled and wouldn’t be qualified to set a story in a place I’ve never been.

For this reason, all of my novels are set in fictional worlds, loosely based on the few places I know well and can speak authentically to. I still choose to leave much of the finer detail of the world for my reader to create based on their own experiences. Because if they’re anything like me, they won’t need a lot of street names or close descriptions of landmarks or buildings to feel immersed in the story. They’ll just need to know how the air feels on the street, the way the cafeteria sounds, or the library smells, to get comfortable.

That’s what I try to do with my worlds. I make them reflections of places you have been before, so you can fill in the gaps yourself.

A small mountain town. A touristy beach. A high school. A hotel elevator.

I won’t spend a lot of time describing these locations in detail because I know you’ve already been there, or have heard of them, or seen them in movies, or read them in books.

A friend recently told me, after reading one of my novels, that my story gave her Fernweh, a German word meaning “nostalgia, or yearning, for a place you’ve never been.”

Yes. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.

Photo by Victoria Priessnitz on Unsplash

4.

Romance is my jam.

There’s a line I stick in almost every biography or agent query letter I write:

“I strive to provide the elements of story I most crave as a reader: Heart, hurt, humor, and lots of love—in all its imperfect glory.”

I mostly add this line to beef up my bio, because as an “unpublished” author, my industry cred is not substantial. The line borders on cheesy and it probably needs revising. But it’s the truth, and nothing but.

I love love stories.

Not the kind of love stories where you know from page one who ends up with who and it’s all dreamy eyes and hard bodies and first sexual experiences that aren’t awkward AF.

I prefer love stories that keep you guessing, piss you off, turn you on, mess with your head, break your heart, and then run their fingers through your hair while you cry about it.

If you’re reading my books (and I’ve done my job), you are going to fall in love, with a lot of people. And you’re going to feel stuff, whether you want to or not. And you’ll reach the end of the story and have to say good-bye.

And that’s going to suck.

5.

The lure of the epilogue.

Every one of my five novels has an epilogue. And one of those novels has three because it’s written in multiple points of view.

For me, the epilogue isn’t merely a “where are they now?” conclusion to the conclusion. For me, it’s one more chance to say good-bye. It’s the chance we rarely get in real life. The one where you bump into your old flame at a gas station, and you look like a million dollars, and you have that moment of shared realization that the spark that was once between you is still there. And even though you’re not going to do anything about it, you leave feeling complete and satisfied, with your second ending.

Or maybe it’s like when you send your grown-up kids off to “adult” in the real world, and you give them the space they deserve to make mistakes, but you still wait by the phone for the call they promised you at the end of their first week of college.

For me, the epilogue is that phone call.

I need it to know that everybody is okay. That the spark is still there.

And I’m well aware of the reality.

Should one of my novels manage to capture the discriminating heart of an agent, and that agent is somehow able to get it into the brutally objective hands of an editor, that epilogue will likely be cut. Because it’s extra, unnecessary, and a little selfish on the part of the author.

But I don’t write epilogues for agents, or editors, or even my future readers. I write them for me. And I’m going to keep writing them.

Because they’re my specialty.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash