Second Book Syndrome, or How putting one book behind you can unleash a brand new world

by Jo Wyton

The wondrous Addy Farmer blogged beautifully a few days ago on The Book of Letting Go, her story of finally dropping a manuscript that she's been devoting everything to for a long time. It's apparent from the comments that people left, that she isn't the only one.


Coincidentally, at the SCBWI retreat last weekend, Lee Weatherly (she of Angel fame) spoke about Second Book Syndrome. Typically, this hits those who are recently published and now required to write Book Two, but as Lee pointed out, it can include anybody who is writing a manuscript under pressure, no matter where that pressure comes from, who is struck by a severe inability to... well... write anything at all, really.

Now, I haven't personally suffered the dreaded Second Book Syndrome. No nausea, no wobbly knees or sweaty palms, and definitely no fingers that dare not type the next word lest it turns out to be not good enough. But I have had another kind of Second Book Syndrome.

The good kind.

Seven years ago, I started writing my first ever book. I bought a notepad and a crappy pen, and I sat down on a bench in a lovely park, and I thought This Is It. The story I wanted to write was one I'd carried around in my head for a long time. THE story.

It took me about a year and a half to get a first draft down. Then there came a year of editing. And then a year and a half of total rewrite, and another year of editing plus replotting and rewriting.

And then the dreaded moment...

THIS. ISN'T. WORKING.

Oh gods above, but did I want to ignore THAT particular feeling. If I'd have been honest with myself, I probably would have discovered that I'd been aware of that feeling for some time. But you know what? I'm glad I ignored it as long as I did.

Because if I think carefully about what actually happened in that five and a half years, I'd probably say this:

1. The first eighteen months were spent learning how to reach the end of a novel...

2. Then there was a year of learning how to line-edit...

3. And then two more years of learning how to plot and shape characters...

Five and a half years after starting to write my first novel, the only physical thing I had to show for it was a pile of paper in my desk drawer, not good enough to submit with any seriousness.

But I knew how to write a good character. I knew how to structure a story. I was still fairly useless at plotting, but I'd worked out ways to how to get around my in-built plot anti-compass. I knew how to edit, and I knew how to polish.

So, when a friend advised me to put my first novel away in favour of a YA I'd been playing around with and given up on, I reluctantly agreed. After all, Novel Number One seemed to be going nowhere except loony-land with me firmly strapped in the passenger seat.

Now, I had the chance to start all over again, and this time it was, well, MORE FUN. It was easier.

This time, it felt like I was writing the right book. In actual fact, I think what probably happened wasn't so much that it was the 'right book', but that I was finally able to write a book at all. It was nice to see that what was in my head was coming out on the page, and it was lovely to hear from writing friends that it was so much better than what I'd written before.

It's OK to make mistakes. In fact, it's good to make them. The fact that you can recognise something that isn't going anywhere as exactly that, is worth something. It's worth a hell of a lot. So, yeah, by all means put that novel you've been struggling with for 5 years away in a drawer, but don't forget about it. Cherish it.

I would never take that first novel back. It was bloody hard work and it took a lot to let it go, but it also went a long way towards teaching me how to do what I want to do, the way I want to do it, and for that reason, it's the best novel I will ever write.