I’ll be honest. I love and hate writing fiction. I’ve always had this schizophrenic reaction to spinning yarns on paper, resulting in my off and on writing patterns since the time I was a kid. The reasons I love writing fiction have been covered in many ways on this here blog, and are my impetus for persisting in the face of impracticality and near-impossibility.

My hatred for writing fiction, on the other hand? In many ways it’s rooted in being alone.

On Tuesday I talked about how going it alone in freelancing is liberating, downright invigorating. Not something to fear but rather something to harness and derive power from. I fully believe that. But when it comes to writing fiction, I find my rah-rah-solitude fervor waning. I want to find the power in writing a novel completely by myself, and I have experienced the (exhausted, bone-crushing, energy-annihilating) joy of finishing a novel by myself. But instead of finding power in being alone, I find confusion, disquiet and frustration.

This became clearer when I started earning my living as a writer. My day to day consists of writing reports, marketing collateral, articles, and more. In no way is this job easy. But in comparison to fiction writing, it seems a freakin’ breeze. My freelance writing is created after careful research, meetings discussing tone and content, interviews providing quotes, and lots of input from other people, the people paying the bills. The actual writing part involves some creativity and problem solving, but I always have something to refer to, someone to call if I get stuck, and previous experiences from my career to draw on.

With fiction writing? I got nuthin. The idea is all mine. The execution is all mine. The revision is all mine. Sure, I might involve some readers (if and when I can find some good ones). But ultimately it is all from my head and heart. And when a novel finally emerges from the toil of years of intermittent dedication, the reality of the publishing world makes all that effort seem pretty silly. And in this realization is a very lonely, isolating, desperately alone moment.

Perhaps the key here is the idea of confidence. Going it alone in freelancing can be pretty f’ing terrifying, but confidence can be attained pretty quickly. A few successful pieces, a few paychecks, a bit of a routine, and voila! I’m a freelance writer, suckas, and no one can tell me any different. But with writing fiction? Book-length fiction, no less? Confidence is hard to come by.

As I said, I stand firm behind the notion that being alone can be immensely powerful and gratifying. I want to make this assertion in fiction writing too. And here’s what I’ve realized – if confidence is the key, no one is going to give it to me. I have to make it myself. I can pat myself myself on the back when I write for every day for a week. When I finish a chapter. When I finish several chapters. The first half. The entire book. I can see each move as a learning experience, and something to draw on in the future, just as I draw on successes and failures in freelancing to inform current and future projects.

Experience breeds comfort, familiarity, and confidence. And that can lead to the joy and strength of going it alone in fiction writing, as in everything else. But I have to make it happen.

What do you think? Do you find power or fright from the solitude around fiction writing?

Like this post? Gee Mister/Miz, I sure hope so! Golly, let us know about it with a comment! And good gravy, a subscription via RSS or email would sure be nice…

RANDOM LINK of the day: Nothing inspires confidence like a little ludicrous humor. Just thinking about this sketch makes me laugh, so now I bequeath it to you.