How to Write a Novel
When I began to get more time to write, maybe an hour or two each day, I’d start by reading a few pages of A House for Mr. Biswas. I wanted to be reminded again and again of the comedy that informs V.S. Naipaul’s writing about failure. And every time I finished work, I’d be conscious only of the ways in which I had failed. There is very little doubt in my mind that one of the hardest things a serious writer must do is write with humour. It was easy to forget this demand because I was anxious to get the words on the page. I was always afraid that the book would run aground. I’d be stranded in the sand. The journal’s pages are full of notes recording scenes and snatches of imagined dialogue. Much of it was never used. But reading those pages now, I can very easily recall the panic and dread that dogged me during that time.
By the following summer, I had a draft of the novel. I know this because in a new journal, in an entry dated June 16, 2004, I find the words “Outline for Draft 2″. My notes are all about altering the structure and inserting new details. There is a small printout of a quote, pasted close by. It is probably from the Guardian: “My favourite description was in Louis Dean’s Becoming Strangers: `The South African pulled his short shorts back up around his ankles and positioned his genitals gamely inside the fishing-net interior’.”
Excerpts from my essay “How to Write a Novel” that appeared today in the Hindu.
Dear Amitava,
I have been a regular, albeit quiet, reader of your blog. And when my wife chanced upon your lead piece in The Hindu Literary Review, she mumbled (through a mouthful of poha): “Isn’t this the person we met?”
Yes, it is. And while I hack away at the book I think I’m writing, this piece provides a modicum of high octane fuel. Thank you. I’m looking forward to reading the novel. Nice cover art, btw.
Hope you’ve been doing well, otherwise.
Comment by Bijoy Venugopal — March 5, 2007 @ 12:36 am
Read your piece in the Sunday literary edition of The Hindu. The article was finely written. The leap from the exercise of writing down different opening lines to the wonderful evolution of creative energy as it moves from the personal to impersonal, through images that stick in the mind — all these coalesicng into the storyline of the book, is well brought out. Looking forward to your book.
Comment by Uma Gowrishankar — March 6, 2007 @ 12:23 am
this essay is wonderful, but i look forward to reading the book it’s about even more. any info on when/how it will be available on these shores?
Comment by elizabeth — March 7, 2007 @ 1:11 am
Your harrowing essay in The Hindu. First response: surprise. You worked THAT hard. THAT many drafts. THAT protracted an engagement–four years. Second response: shock at the truth of what you say. At the deluded confidence. At the false sense of completion. At the sickening recognition that, no, it is not done, not ready, not even close. And I am trying to recall you in each phase. I dipped in to your life on occasion, perhaps once during each draft of Home Products. I recall very sharply the coffee shop in State College. Third reaction: Home Remedies is the Nicaraguan slang for masturbation: remedios casarios.
Not in your case. You begot the child. In fact, two childs.
Glad you got it done. I am still working on draft # 3.
Comment by Hap — March 7, 2007 @ 3:07 pm
Great piece of writing !
So many drafts , I can’t believe.
I am more eager to read your book.
Comment by abdullah khan — March 9, 2007 @ 10:39 am