The Story of “A Voracious Grief”
The very first version of A Voracious Grief came into being on October 23rd, 2022 when I went on a writing retreat to Mepkin Abbey in Moncks Corner, SC. The manuscript was 80% complete when I arrived at the retreat center, and I had about 48 undisturbed hours in which to write. I knew finishing the thing was an attainable goal in that amount of time, but the reality loomed over me that I still had no idea what sort of ending the story deserved.
Mepkin Abbey and its well-kept grounds are a lovely melding of spiritual and material. The drive in crosses several acres of towering, moss-bearded oaks that speak without words of time and sun and good air. They offer a sobering welcome, reminding the newcomer (whether aged 30 or 60) that he/she is young, inexperienced, and quite small in the grand scheme of Life. It was here, among the ancient trees and summer-busy bees, flowers and mayflies, long gravel walks and contemplative pools, that I spent many silent hours thinking before ever sitting down to write.
That first evening I went on a walk around sunset. The grounds were full of living, growing things and I enjoyed an exploration which uncovered many of nature’s secret haunts. Everything is beautiful at Mepkin Abbey. After an hour, as I walked back through a grassy space, I felt the image of a fertile field rising in my spirit. It made sense—this time away possessed all the potential of a fertile field. I bring seeds of thought, theme, and emotion to this story, and I believed God would bring forth fruit from what I sowed.
Later, when I’d returned to my room, I sat at the desk to read some scripture. I intentionally dedicated the first night to meditation alone—no writing, just yet—and I was at that time reading through Isaiah. Turning to the next chapter, I read,“Until the Spirit is poured upon us from on high, and the wilderness becomes a fruitful field, and the fruitful field is deemed a forest. Then justice will dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness abide in the fruitful field. And the effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness quietness and security forever (Is. 33:15-17).”
Basically, this is a passage about up-ending the natural expectations of people. The place thought to be a wilderness will become fruitful field, while the place thought to be most fruitful will become as a forest. I meditated on what that might mean for my book, and this train of thought led to an idea for the ending which felt more appropriate and satisfactory than any I’d previous mulled over. (There had been many!) The next day, I sat down to write and didn’t pause until, 8 hours and 10,000 words later, I typed ‘The End’.
But what started all of this? Where did A Voracious Grief begin, and why did I choose to make my first novel a gothic psychological horror story about such a dark topic as grief?
The idea was first sparked decades ago, long before I took my writing seriously, but I wrote the idea down and never did anything with it. I’d read a short, creepy story by Ray Bradbury. The Veldt. Scary stories have always captivated my imagination, and this one stayed with me. In 2020 I finished the first draft of a massive fantasy novel and rediscovered my love of writing. I simultaneously decided I wanted to write professionally and that my skill level was not up to the task of doing the fantasy series justice. Instead, I turned to my bank of old ideas and seized upon the idea of seeing what I could make of the weird gothic one.
I began typing the manuscript in January ‘22, working scene by scene, starting more in the middle of the plot than a true beginning, and merely forged ahead until I got close to the end in October. At the same time, I had begun to participate in a local chapter of South Carolina Writer’s Association, attending biweekly critiquing sessions with a group of enthusiastic, hard-working artists. I learned a lot from them, as the months rolled by and I brought scene after scene to be picked apart and put back together with the help of many pairs of fresh eyes. They were wonderfully encouraging, while keeping to business. I think the main lesson I learned during those early months was that if a reader didn’t understand what I meant to communicate, it was my fault, not theirs. A difficult lesson, as I would have preferred to hide behind the cardboard shield of “they just don’t understand my art”.
I also read several books and listened to many hours of podcasts about writing, building an author brand, and self-publishing. Save the Cat! Writes a Novel is my favorite craft book, and I intend on using it to help plot all my novels going forward.
The second best thing to happen to A Voracious Grief, after my critiquing group, was my amazing editor, Amber Helt. January of ’23 we began working together and she was exactly the sort of editor I was hoping to find when I started shopping for service providers the previous fall. Amber was not only extremely knowledgable and happy to recommend the tools she utilized to make everyone’s job easier, she also caught the vision for what I was trying to accomplish through the themes and character development of the story. With that vision clear in her sights, she guided me through some intimidating stages of growth as a writer, until I was able to create what I had attempted with that first draft.
Before A Voracious Grief went to Amber, it had two stiff revisions. One, based on my own clarified vision for the story, now that I’d found a suitable ending. Another, after my friend and fellow author Ray Foy gave me some detailed feedback of the early draft, and I rewrote several scenes to clarify what he pointed out. Then Amber gave me suggestions for major rewrites of the beginning and ending portions of the novel, and I worked on those throughout that spring.
The biggest thing I learned from working with Amber was that I needed to tap into my emotional landscape while writing. What I’d given her was a story that had potential for connection with the reader, but ultimately fell short, because the reader was kept distant and many key moments played out in a numb, matter-of-fact fashion. She suggested I read Donald Maass’ book The Emotional Craft of Fiction. Little did I know, Maass’ book would change my life.
Artists are never creating in a vacuum, right? The same was true for me. Ever since the beginning of 2022, when I was creating my author brand and determining the answers to questions like why do I want to write? and what do I have to offer? I had pretty clearly identified a desire to 1) face the darkness head on in my writing, exploring topics like death, illness, pain, depression, and doubt, and 2) offer a compassionate, listening ear to my target audience instead of platitudes. Both of these goals were motivated by my own experiences of suffering alone in silence, and then speaking out and finding people were uncomfortable with my pain, didn’t understand my feelings, and didn’t want to hear my questions because they were too ‘scary’. What I’m getting at here, is that my whole motivation for writing, was incredibly personal, and intimately connect to my pain.
Then in 2022, as I was trying to connect the stunted, hampered inner world of my emotions to the written word, I entered one of the most painful sagas of relational tension I’d ever experienced. The timing was perfect. I no longer had to work to connect with what I felt inside—I was brimming over with sorrow, anger, bitterness, grief, longing, and hope. Those feelings made it difficult to be satisfied with the tepid dishwater I’d used to fill key scenes in my book up to that point. I rewrote with a passion and the book underwent a wonderful transformation.
When A Voracious Grief was sent off to the copy editor, line editor, and then proof-reader, it felt like the heavy lifting was done. I’d moved the colossal creative boulder and was ready to take a rest! But unfortunately, publishing is a whole other animal, and my publication clock was already ticking. June, July, August, September … It’s a couple days from publication day as I write this, and I’m in the middle of tearing my hair out over how to print a hardcover version!
I could write a whole other post about self-publishing. I should, when I can think about it without so many entangling details floating around in my head. The short of it—publishing your book is difficult, takes a huge amount of work, and requires more time that you’d expect. (Now try doing it all in the most professional manner possible!)
Thankfully, the whole point of publishing a book is the people who will read it. Because without that motivator, I don’t think the process would be worthwhile. But remember where this book started? With the image of a fruitful field rising out of a South Carolina sunset? The harvest is coming in soon. My hope is that there will be enough people for whom this story is a heart’s balm, that it won’t matter it was my first book and a rocky road to publishing it. I’ll have accomplished the goal on which I set my eyes, two years ago.
