The Making of MILK

#1 in a series on Turning An Idea into A Book

Recently I met up with my good friend Annie Jael Kwan. This was the first time we’d seen each other in person since the book we edited -ASIA-ART-ACTIVISM - was published earlier this year. It’s true that we both enjoy bouncing new ideas off each other and coming up with new projects. But this time, we’d been given a modest fee for appearing on a radio show hosted by an independent Dutch bookshop and we decided to spend it on a fancy lunch to look back and celebrate our achievements. We toasted the end of the long process of self-publication and congratulated one another on recent successes, using the energy as fuel to energise ourselves for projects on the horizon. We looked at art and gave pause to think of those who nurtured us. It was a profoundly special Sunday.

I was glad Annie suggested spending the money this way; I am not very good at celebrating my achievements. Sure, they are a good excuse to go for drinks or a nice dinner, but I rarely allow myself a moment to feel proud or acknowledge the hard work that goes into making something happen. Because I am quite good at forgetting that hard work and mistakenly thinking everything is all just a fluke, entirely the result of pure ‘good luck’.

In those early days of working on my book MILK, I had no idea what publishing a book entailed or the processes involved. I just had a hunch that this book needed to exist and that I should be the one to write it. I knew I wanted to write on art history, cultural histories and that I would need to include myself somewhere on the page too. This kind of confidence was new to me, and perhaps only possible to possess when your critical faculties are worn away by torturous sleep deprivation and the surge in creativity that probably comes from your brain completely rewiring itself (see Mother Brain by Chelsea Conaboy).

What I mean is that MILK seemed to come to me fully formed. Bottled up and ready to go.

At least, that's how I remember it now and this way of thinking is doing me no favours. As I flip flop between several distinct book drafts, trying to nail the idea to the page, I also veer between self-loathing and impatience: why can't I make an idea that feels so coherent in my head shine with clarity in the book proposal?

I remind myself that one reason is writing is already an act of translation. In addition to the words and sentences that form in my mind, I also think in images and diagrams. There isn't necessarily a temporal order; these ideas stack on top of one another and I can see them all at once and they make sense. Writing demands that an order is found: one sentence in front of another so that someone else might understand the thinking, the thesis.

Camille Henrot, Wet Job, 2020 © ADAGP Camille Henrot.

I must remind myself of this daily. Because now I’m at the start of something new and must give myself the kindness of recalling the the vast distance I traversed from deciding to write on an entirely new subject to seeing the book in bookshop windows just four years later.

I’ve also looked back at first drafts of the MILK proposal to remember that there were many iterations from first attempt, to the one sent to agents, to the final polished version sent to publishers. I think of the collaborators along the way: my husband, my agent, and an editor who works with her.

Of course, from that proposal came many drafts of the book and it took a while and lots of collaboration for the final structure to emerge. I can see the evidence in messy Google Drive folders and my inbox. Writing is a kind of thinking, so of course ideas evolve and develop in the years of working things out on the page. There is a gestation. Nothing is instantaneous.

But this is an act of deception all writers engage in. And, we readers also participate in the illusion books appear fully formed. We think of the abandoned chapters, narrative dead-ends, ill-formed characters, or piles of unused research. We are given the final package and judge it as we see fit.

This illusion is part of the art, but is what also makes writing daunting. And I’ve been surprised by how surprised people are when I tell them about how much MILK did change during the writing and editing processes, by how much the final book is a collaborative effort.

So, I want to pull back the curtain. In a series of posts in the coming months, I will reveal the process of taking a book from idea to finished product from the perspective of a debut author. This is not an entirely selfless act; this is also me, currently working on the book idea my agent agrees is The One, reminding myself that it’s okay to feel unsure right now. What is meant to emerge will appear.

In the next post in this series, I’ll share the moment I decided to actually write and send out a book proposal, what the proposal contained and how I found agents to send it to.

I hope you will want to continue reading. Thank you for reading so far xxx

Catching Up….

Caro Giles and I had the most wonderful conversation on the ways writing motherhood can feel subversive, necessary and rebellious. We also discussed how we protect the privacy of our loved ones while remaining honest on the page and the different ways we came to find our creativity in amongst the work of caring and nurturing our families. You can listen to the conversation on here on Instagram.

Last year, I won the Urban Tree Writing Competition and so I was delighted to be asked to return this year as the Prose Judge. It was no easy task, but you can find all the longlisted entries, as well as the prize winners, here. I also recommend purchasing the Canopy chapbook of shortlisted prose and poetry entries - they are the most beautifully put together publications.

Work with me….

This is also the time to mention that I offer services for established and emerging writers, which draw on my years of guiding undergraduate and postgraduate students to hone their ideas and communicate them with precision, my work as an editor, and of course working as a published non fiction writer. I offer bespoke blends of editorial feedback, support and consultancy for non-fiction writers, from developing book proposals to finishing manuscripts. Please do get in contact with me to find out more if you are interested in working with me.