Hi friends,
It’s been quite a while. Since the last time I wrote to you, I’ve drafted a new novel and developed a few half-baked ideas into stories that feel expansive, alive, and full of potential. I also received the news that my mom had cancer and, in the span of two terrible months, lost her.
These past few months have been a tiring (and sometimes very tedious) fight to remain sane, and I don’t say that lightly. Grief has felt a lot like losing my mind.
Like most writers, neurosis comes quite naturally to me. I’ve always been nervous by nature, and sometimes I struggle with the things that come easily to other people—eating, sleeping, and keeping myself from panicking when I leave my house. So I suppose it’s no big surprise that writing has been a means of escape. So much so that back when I was a teenager, my mom actually worried that writing had become something of an unhealthy coping mechanism (she might’ve been right).
For as long as I can remember, I’ve used writing as a way to cope with things I couldn’t logically comprehend. Every time I finish a project, I panic. I need new ideas—new stories to capture my attention—because without them I flounder. But after years of writing novels, I’ve found no real way to rush the process of creating new book ideas. While I can write under tight deadlines and meet my daily word count goals, one part of my writing process that still seems almost entirely out of my control is the creation of new story concepts. But recently, that changed.
A little over a year ago, I found some of the best writing advice I have ever received in my life. It came by way of a YouTube video I stumbled upon by chance. It featured a screenwriter, Scott Myers, answering the question that every creative has asked at some point: how do you come up with new ideas? In response, Myers quotes the two-time Nobel Prize-winning chemist Linus Pauling who said, “The best way to have a good idea is to have lots of ideas.” Myers applied this advice to his own process and kept a Word file filled with ideas he added daily. You can watch the video to hear him discuss his process and the logic behind it.
Inspired by Myers’ advice, I bought myself a journal with unlined pages1, and for about six months, I jotted down every contrived, half-assed, and (very occasionally) brilliant idea that occurred to me. By the end of that six months, I had far more terrible ideas than mediocre ones. But I also had a handful of ideas that were good enough to show some promise; two of those projects grew into novels I became infatuated with. I also noticed that the quality of the ideas I developed improved steadily with time. Realizing this, I came to the conclusion that Myers was right: creating ideas was a skill and one I learned to master through dogged daily practice.
I’ve struggled to create during some of the darker periods of my life. Writing is an escape, yes, but when things become too grim, I reach a breaking point where even simple tasks like eating, reading, or talking to friends take too much out of me emotionally. Given this tendency, I had assumed that my mom’s death would mark the beginning of the end for me, creatively. I simply didn’t know how I could continue writing books after losing the person who had first encouraged me to write them. But strangely, in those dark weeks after her passing, I felt possessed with a compulsive desire to create. I typed until my hands ached and stiffened, clocking in word counts so high that I had to run the math several times to make sure I wasn’t overestimating my output.
During those feverish weeks, every idea that I worked on came from the pages of that deranged journal of story ideas that I’d kept by my side for six months. At a time when the future seemed to stagnate, cut short by my mom’s death, when I felt too sick with grief to carry on, I had a handful of halfway good ideas—characters I cared about, stories I wanted to see through to the end—that inspired me to get out of bed on the mornings when even sitting up was a struggle.
I want to be clear; story ideas certainly didn’t make up for the loss of my mom. They didn’t take the edge off the pain of losing her, and they’re no substitute for therapy. But those ideas did give me something concrete to hold on to, a means of distraction amid the darkest time of my life, and I’m grateful for that.
Before I go, I want to share some of the books I’ve been reading as I process my grief. Writing wasn’t the only thing that helped to keep me sane, and I credit these stories for helping me work through some of my grief, keeping me company when I felt alone, and providing an excellent means of distraction during a really dark time.
Bad Dolls by Rachel Harrison: I’m not sure I’ve ever had so much fun reading an anthology.
The Memory Theater by Karin Tidbeck: This book was absolutely bizarre in the best way. It’s like if Alice in Wonderland was way more fucked up.
Emergency Skin by N.K. Jemisin: I felt so full of hope after reading this.
The Weaver and the Witch Queen by Genevieve Gornichec: A gorgeous epic. No one is doing it like Genevieve.
The Crane Husband by Kelly Barnhill: A dark, strange, and incredibly poignant exploration of love and loss. I really loved it.
Yellowface by R.F. Kuang: One of my favorite authors. This didn’t disappoint.
The Kraken’s Sacrifice by Katee Robert: Because don’t we all need a tentacled sea god to sweep us away to his underwater kingdom?
The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean: Absolutely loved this debut. Also, if you haven’t checked out Sunyi’s podcast with Scott Drakeford, Publishing Rodeo, I highly recommend you do! If you want advice on the hard realities of publishing, you won’t find a better resource.
House of Hollows by Krystal Sutherland: Easily one of the best YA fantasy/horror novels I’ve ever read. I was obsessed with this one.
The Six Deaths of a Saint by Alix E. Harrow: This novella was perfection. I truly think Alix’s work will be studied one day.
I would also be remiss not to mention that the paperback edition of House of Hunger—my toxic, vampiric, F/F gothic horror novel—releases on September 5th. You can pre-order it here if you’d like a copy!
That’s all for now! Take care of yourselves.
Alexis
A weird but important tip, get the ugliest journal you can find. That way, you won’t be too afraid of sullying the pages with bad ideas. Trust me, this is key. My journal is so hideous it makes me flinch a little every time I look at it, and you know what? I used it more than any pretty journal I’ve ever owned.
Your Mom is so proud of you ❤️
I relate to this so much. Thanks for sharing. I'm definitely going to find me a nice ugly journal to fill with ideas. And writing has always been both a healthy and unhealthy escape for me. Times when I'm not writing, I often feel somewhat lost if I don't somehow incorporate it into my daily routine.