Writing a Book Is Really Hard

Let’s Be Real for a Second

We romanticise writing a book like nobody’s business. A candlelit study. Quill in hand. A steaming cup of tea. Words flowing like a Jane Austen heroine’s inner monologue.

Reality? It’s more like, pyjamas. A messy Google Doc. Six tabs open. A character named “Guy” because you forgot to pick a real name three chapters ago.

Writing a book is hard.

 

The Beginning: ✨ Hope ✨

The first few pages? Magical. You’ve got a story burning inside you. You create a Spotify playlist. You imagine the cover. You tell your friends “I’m writing a book,” and they look at you like you’re holding a lantern on some noble quest. You are unstoppable. For approximately 2,000 words.

The Middle: Chaos Reigns

Then comes the swamp. Plot holes appear like cursed sinkholes. A character you meant to kill off refuses to leave. Your villain suddenly has a redemption arc you didn’t sign up for.

You reread a sentence and think, wow, that’s awful. You delete three chapters and rewrite one paragraph seventeen times. This is where 90% of books die. RIP to the Google Docs lost in the trenches. Always in our thoughts and prayers xx

The End(ish): A Scrappy, Beautiful Mess

If you reach the end, it’s usually not with a flourish. It’s more like staggering across the finish line holding your laptop like a wounded comrade.

But here’s the thing- that messy first draft is the real magic. You actually built a story. Even if it’s tangled, chaotic, and covered in metaphorical ink stains.

The Editing Trend That Makes Me Want to Scream

Somewhere along the way, the writing world decided that everything has to be concise. Tight. Minimal. Cut everything that doesn’t move the plot forward. Remove the wandering descriptions. Trim the whimsy. And honestly? I hate it.

We’ve started treating novels like corporate emails. As if every story has to fit into the same crisp little box, no room for flourish or detour. But the best stories linger. They wander down strange corridors. They take their time.

Jane Austen didn’t “trim for conciseness.” Bram Stoker didn’t “kill his darlings” into oblivion. The joy of a story is sometimes in the parts that technically “don’t need to be there.”

Editing is important, but not at the cost of voice. Not at the cost of making everyone sound the same.

Some people shove their drafts in a drawer. Some brave souls edit. And some - and I LOVE these people - print and bind their messy, wordy, glorious first drafts.

Not for publication. Just to hold it in their hands. To say, I made this. It’s mine. And it doesn’t have to fit into anyone else’s box.

(Yes, this is your cue to look at my typeset downloads and handbound notebooks, because imagine binding your own novel like some medieval scribe. Iconic.)

If you’re stuck in the messy middle, wrestling with conciseness edits, or you’ve got a dusty manuscript sitting in your inbox, this is your sign: you’re not alone. Writing is hard. Finishing is hard. And sometimes, refusing to shrink your story down to fit “the rules” is the bravest thing you can do.

Writing a book isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up. Making a mess. Building worlds that feel alive. And sometimes, that means letting your sentences wander and your paragraphs breathe.