On Not Knowing What to Write (A Love Letter)

(With Wells, England Photo Dump)

May 12, 2024

Hello Loveys,

(My new salutation comes courtesy of all the people here in Wells who routinely address us that way.)

By the time this missive lands in your inbox, I will have been in Wells, England, for a week and I’ll be sitting down to co-lead the first day of our workshop here. International travel is tiring, to put it mildly, and it’s good to have a few days ahead of time to settle in. (What’s surprised me the most is how quickly we’ve eased into a new routine here. This is our third year here, so settling in feels more like pulling on a beloved pair of socks than trying on flashy new ones.) Plus, we had things to prepare. And I had reading for the workshop to finish. But there was also time to, you know, write.

But the question in my mind was, what? What would I write?

Right before I left, I finished a very rough first draft of a novel I’ve been working on for months. I knew I wasn’t ready to dive into the second draft, though, because, a couple of things: one, it needed to sit so I could get some distance from it, and two, I wrote it out of order. To make any sense out of it at all, I’ll need to print it out to organize chapters before I do anything else.

But never fear, I have unfinished projects hanging around on my computer. I brought with me notes from three different novels in three different stages. Two of them have been through several drafts but aren’t quite fully operable yet, and one is halfway through a decent second run-through. I thought it would be easy to scan my notes, land on one as an appealing project, and go to it. But that’s not what’s happened.

Instead, what’s happened is this: I get very interested and absorbed in one of these stories, then something happens and I’m off onto another one, and so on. I’ve cycled back through all of them at least once. The cycling is enthusiastic, too. I’m certain as I make notes on one that this is it, this is the one I’m going to land on. But then something sets me on to a different one and off I go on that.

This makes me feel like I’m not really writing.

Maybe because I’m not.

But what I’ve also realized is that I’m in a really open, creative time and I just need to let it flow and see what happens. Especially because I’m currently situated in a charming English city that feels more like a village with all kinds of curious and wonderful sights and sounds and smells to inhale.

And so, I’ll leave it at that for now, with a wish you were here, and a dump of some of the photos I’ve taken while here. (And maybe by next week, I’ll be able to report progress on selecting a project. Or maybe not.)

Love, light, and good writing,

Charlotte

P.S. Hit me up with a comment or a reply and let me know what you’ve been up to.

Books

This week here in Wells I’ve been revisiting the assigned books for our workshop, both highly recommended:

Don’t Look at Me Like That, and Somewhere Towards the End, both by Diana Athill. The first is a novel, her only one, and the second a memoir, one of several she wrote. We’re pairing this books by this Brit author for our England writing workshop. The novel was written when she was a young woman, and the memoir as she approached her death. The memoir made her, at age 91, a surprise literary star.

Articles

What writers actually get paid.

Looking for beta readers? Try the Great Beta Match-up (deadline is June 7.

Screenwriting for novelists.

Events

We’ve written several new blog posts about the location of our France workshop and why we love it so much. You can read about art and artists in Céret, the crazy annual footrace there, and best of all, the wonderful local bakeries. There’s only a couple spots left, so nab them now. And stay tuned for an interview with our writer-in-residence, Angela M. Sanders.

If Italy is more to your liking, the details of our Perugia, Italy creative writing workshop are now up on the website. Reply to this email if you want to learn more.