A love letter to all the "slow" writers out there.
What do so many of the world’s most beloved novels, films, and TV shows have in common? What does Frank Herbert’s Dune have in common with Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings? How about Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park and George R. R. Martin’s Game of Thrones? Aside from being extraordinary visions of alternate realities shared by creators with endless wanderlust, all of these works took upwards of five years to complete. Some even skyrocket past the ten year mark, their authors admitting to extensive research and slow, meticulous writing routines.
These books aren’t just books. They are journeys into the expansive unknown, chaos energy woven into form by powerful imaginations. They are pages-upon-pages of dedication, love made manifest between two gorgeously illustrated covers. They’re not projects, they’re portals. They’re not products, they’re passions.
So, why does it take some authors ten years, and others ten weeks? Why do some stories demand more time, while others are happy to manifest at record speed? Because art is about the experience.
Art is an act that is — above all else — about self-exploration and enrichment. It is a sacred show of devotion to one’s own imagination, a display of worship at the altar of the inner child, undead teenager, and reluctant adult. One who goes into an imaginative daze, disappears into the craft for weeks, and emerges with a novel in hand stands as a testament to how delightfully all-consuming creativity can be. I’ve been this person, and I commend anyone who’s engaged with this level of immersion in its most earnest form. However, I’d say reaching said level of immersion for upwards of ten years is something to be revered just as highly.
Imagine falling so deeply down a single project’s rabbit hole that it consumes thousands and thousands of days living on the threshold between two realities.I’m reminded of the filmInterstellar, where the main character encounters a world so close to a black hole that time dilation causes a massively varied perception of time.One hour on this world equates to seven years on Earth.
I’d imagine this is how Tolkien and Herbert must have felt. How long were they actually living in Middle Earth and on Arrakis, respectively? As the Earth days ticked by in twenty-four hour solar cycles, here… were they experiencing weeks? Months? Eons?
Writing feels like our current version of interdimensional time dilation, and to me, it’s a beautiful, mystical, borderline spiritual practice.Whether it happens inhumanely fast or ponderously slowis not for us to decide.Thepacing should never be a conscious choice, instead a byproduct of the manner of adventure being embarked on.
When writing is about efficiency and efficiency alone, it’s likely because our words have been sacrificed to the gods of consumerism. Today, humans have been primed to seek immediate gratification.In turn, audiences devour content at breakneck speed.The silence that follows the thump of a back cover has never been comfortable, but now, it’s practically maddening.
Authors across the world have been led to believe the industry’s become a rat race. Fast writing means more writing, more writing means more readers, and more readers means more money. Consumerist culture is all about profit, and when profit is the primary goal, the true splendors of making art fall to the wayside.
Taking ten years to write a novel — especially one without an established audience — is regarded as a “reckless” risk. Why spend that long making something you don’t even know will sell? Frankly, because it’s not about the sale. An author who lovingly devotes a year, five years, or two decades to the cultivation of a singular story has more invested than invisible dollar bills. To them, the investment is soul-deep. In fact, it is far more than an investment.
It’s freedom, exploration, experimentation, and pursuit of realms beyond this one. It is the closest thing we have to interdimensional, astral, galactic, and fantastical odyssey. It’s akin to visiting a travel agency for those seeking wonder Earth isn’t yet equipped to offer. So, if you fancy yourself a slow writer, I’d encourage you to reframe what that really means.
You’re not the lazy, unambitious, loafing layabout consumerist culture wants you to believe you are. You are an impassioned weaver of words who moves with the unhurried care of a grandmother tenderly knitting for her grandchildren. You are a rebellious explorer of imaginal realms who strolls with the euphoric leisure of a beachgoer in the tropics after months in a cold, monochromatic cityscape.
You don’t need to “fix” yourself or electrify your writing routine.You aren’t a damaged doll in need of special glue.All you need is a little more self-love, and dare I say, a littletime away from a world hellbent on putting workaholic robots in place of real human beings.If the rise of AI-generated content has taught us anything, it’s that readers prefer works laboriously marinated in love to those rapidly pumped out of a steely womb.Likewise, I believe they’ll appreciate a book written earnestly, authentically, and manifested at the pace deemed right by its author.
Of course, a masterpiece can be written in an unfathomably short amount of time.Plenty of writers I adore have very speedy turnarounds.We love to be swept away so completely that a narrative’s timeline begins to keep pace with the timeline of real life.That years within the novel should begin to resemble years within the waking world.
It’s the intention behind a writer’s pace that matters. Many people criticize others for their approach to the craft, but artists are individuals. Our methods are unique, and sometimes they vary from story-to-story. For some, a calmer, gentler writing routine is better suited for self-expression and exploration of the realms beyond our Earthly plane. For others, high-velocity writing sessions that yield staggering word counts take precedence. Neither are wrong for their method.
What’s most important is to be kind to yourself and unwaveringly loyal to the reason you started writing in the first place. You are an intrepid explorer of all that is unseen.The degree to which time dilates to allow for such expeditions is a paltry concern.
Comments