On Writing Second Novels

Despite one’s field, the term “sophomore jinx” or “sophomore slump” means virtually the same thing. It is the baseball player who gets Rookie of the Year, only to struggle his next. It is the musician who wins a Grammy for Best New Artist, before becoming a one-hit wonder. It is the undiscovered actress who bursts on the scene, only to descend into B-list obscurity. The sophomore slump is following a good first performance with a mediocre second, it is failing to live up to the standard you previously set.

I can’t say I’m experiencing a sophomore slump, but I’m definitely having a harder time writing my second novel than I did my first. Yes, writing a first novel carries its own unique set of problems. For me it involved practically a complete change of focus and schedule; it meant receiving and applying critique, better managing my time, re-crafting my priorities, discovering my own writing style and voice, and sustaining a vision over the long-term. Along the way, I learned about myself, my characters, and what it takes to extract a story from my imagination. That process took about two years and (along with confirmations from agents and editors) has left me relatively encouraged that I’ve done it decently, and can do it again.

However, doing it again has proven difficult.

One evidence is that my second novel is actually my third. Let me explain. As I neared the completion of my freshman work, I began teasing out the concept for a follow-up book. This one would be bigger and better, I thought, with a tighter plot, more complicated characters, grander vision and improved writing. No sooner had a typed “The End” than I tore into writing my second novel. But the deeper I waded into the story, the more it seemed like quicksand. I got 60K words into it before I realized something wasn’t working. The confirmation came when I received early word from an editor who, after perusing the first several chapters, said the story didn’t do it for him. His response had the effect of a pin on an over-inflated balloon. Call it over-reaction, but I shelved the work immediately, almost relieved to do so.

What happened? Was it the sophomore slump? Had I become too intoxicated with the joy of completing my first novel? Like the kid who graduates from training wheels and starts eying the BMX bike ramp, perhaps I just needed to acknowledge I wasn’t ready for the X-Games. Or maybe I had just aimed too high. I mean, my expectations for the first book were pretty reasonable — like, just finish it. But once I knew I could do it, why wouldn’t I want to do the next one better?

Furthermore, this time around the playing field is different. Back then, I didn’t have an agent, didn’t know many writers, didn’t have my name out there, wasn’t blogging regularly, and had fewer writing obligations. But things have changed. Frankly, I didn’t take these new factors into consideration. This go-round I was bringing more responsibilities with me (or baggage, depending upon how one looks at it). Management of time, ideas, people and priorities, has become a much bigger issue than it was the first time around. If I’m going to finish my next novel with any efficiency, I have to limit my time reading blogs, posting blog entries, meandering down numerous rabbit trails (under the guise of “research”), and simply spend more time writing.

So needless to say, I have approached my current project (which is actually my third), with that in mind. Yes, it is going a lot smoother. No, it’s not without its hurdles, challenges, and recurring doubts. The difference is, this time, my expectations and outlook are a little more realistic.