Ask the Author: Sarah Langan
Answered Questions (6)
Sarah Langan
George and Lennie from Steinbeck's GRAPES of WRATH.
Sarah Langan
Aspiring writers shouldn't aspire. They should write! Every day. And they should aim high by shooting for traditional publishing deals. Self-publishing positively reinforces bad habits and, for the most part, bad writing.
Happy Halloween!
Happy Halloween!
Sarah Langan
I've never had writer's block. That said, I've finished a book for the first time in six and a half years. So, take this answer with a grain of salt.
All writing is a process. If something isn't working, or your attention span isn't what is used to be (I had two young kids over those 6.5 years), that doesn't change the fact that you're a writer.
A day never went by when I didn't have some idea I wanted to commit to paper. But something wasn't clicking with my novel work. I'd had some bad luck career-wise and I'd lost trust in the professionals around me. I didn't want to hand in anything half-finished, fearing that it would get torn apart. So, that and the fact that I had two small humans competing for my time made my work feel a lot more like drudgery and a lot less like joy.
Every time someone asked me for a short story, I said yes. These were easier, given my attention span. In retrospect, I also just didn't want to deal with the professional side of things. I've written some of my best work, at least 20 short stories, since then. So, while from an outsider's perspective, I've done absolutely nothing. But from my perspective, I've become a much better writer and a much wiser person. My next book wouldn't have happened if I hadn't allowed it that extra time to breathe.
In essence, there is no such thing as writers' block. There is only ever the journey.
If you're a person who says they're blocked, but you're not sitting down in the chair every day, then you're not blocked. You're just not writing at all. So go sit down every day for half an hour or an hour or two hours and write something. You'll be surprised by how quickly your block resolves. Out of sheer boredom, you'll produce something. And stay off the internet!*
*Except to read this, and give my books a billionty stars!
All writing is a process. If something isn't working, or your attention span isn't what is used to be (I had two young kids over those 6.5 years), that doesn't change the fact that you're a writer.
A day never went by when I didn't have some idea I wanted to commit to paper. But something wasn't clicking with my novel work. I'd had some bad luck career-wise and I'd lost trust in the professionals around me. I didn't want to hand in anything half-finished, fearing that it would get torn apart. So, that and the fact that I had two small humans competing for my time made my work feel a lot more like drudgery and a lot less like joy.
Every time someone asked me for a short story, I said yes. These were easier, given my attention span. In retrospect, I also just didn't want to deal with the professional side of things. I've written some of my best work, at least 20 short stories, since then. So, while from an outsider's perspective, I've done absolutely nothing. But from my perspective, I've become a much better writer and a much wiser person. My next book wouldn't have happened if I hadn't allowed it that extra time to breathe.
In essence, there is no such thing as writers' block. There is only ever the journey.
If you're a person who says they're blocked, but you're not sitting down in the chair every day, then you're not blocked. You're just not writing at all. So go sit down every day for half an hour or an hour or two hours and write something. You'll be surprised by how quickly your block resolves. Out of sheer boredom, you'll produce something. And stay off the internet!*
*Except to read this, and give my books a billionty stars!
Sarah Langan
Dear David,
Thanks for writing!
I wrote The Keeper when I was still in my twenties. In fact, I started it when I was 21 and finished it at 29. I bring this up because those are intense years. It reminds me of this quote from Lawrence of Arabia:
“Young men make wars, and the virtues of war are the virtues of young men. Courage and hope for the future. Then old men make the peace. And the vices of peace are the vices of old men. Mistrust and caution. It must be so.”
I was basically a hot head, waging war against an inherently unfair world. The town of Bedford loosely resembles Waterville, where I went to college, and also Old Town, just outside Bangor. Both are in Maine. Paper mills are the focal points of a town because of their giant smoke stacks. Even when they’re closed down, you can’t take your eye off them.
My characters were invented. One of my grad school teachers could never remember that Susan wasn’t based on someone real. She called me “Susan” instead of Sarah. Another teacher was sure I’d had an affair with a professor in high school. Nope. But I let him believe I had because he was so pleased that he’d had the insight.
On the other hand, my characters in many ways are very true, but they’re not based on other people. Like most writers, they’re aspects of me. Susan is an embodiment of all the rage I had back in those days, for reasons both phantom and tangible. Poor Liz was my low self-esteem. Paul was the narcissist every writer needs to be. Georgia had a head on her shoulders, mostly.
I think, ultimately, Keeper is as bleak as it is because I was so young. An older, wiser person might see the light at the end of the tunnel. An older, bitter person wouldn’t be able to tell the story at all. I could never write that story again, but I’m so glad that I did. It speaks to people. Maybe it calls to that hot-head kid we all used to be, and still are. It’s the hot-heads who act. Everybody else stays on schedule.
The Missing had a different impetus. I was having fun. How cool to start a vampire-zombie origin story. I loved writing that—it was hard, of course, but most of it just flowed. Fenstad and Meg were such a fun couple, and their daughter Maddie was so funny. I fact, I found the whole thing funny. It was a comment on current events, particularly the war in Iraq, but it was also pretty gleeful. Or at least, I thought it was gleeful. Then again, Kafka thought Metamorphosis was so funny he couldn’t read it without bursting in laughter. So, to each his own!
Thanks for writing!
I wrote The Keeper when I was still in my twenties. In fact, I started it when I was 21 and finished it at 29. I bring this up because those are intense years. It reminds me of this quote from Lawrence of Arabia:
“Young men make wars, and the virtues of war are the virtues of young men. Courage and hope for the future. Then old men make the peace. And the vices of peace are the vices of old men. Mistrust and caution. It must be so.”
I was basically a hot head, waging war against an inherently unfair world. The town of Bedford loosely resembles Waterville, where I went to college, and also Old Town, just outside Bangor. Both are in Maine. Paper mills are the focal points of a town because of their giant smoke stacks. Even when they’re closed down, you can’t take your eye off them.
My characters were invented. One of my grad school teachers could never remember that Susan wasn’t based on someone real. She called me “Susan” instead of Sarah. Another teacher was sure I’d had an affair with a professor in high school. Nope. But I let him believe I had because he was so pleased that he’d had the insight.
On the other hand, my characters in many ways are very true, but they’re not based on other people. Like most writers, they’re aspects of me. Susan is an embodiment of all the rage I had back in those days, for reasons both phantom and tangible. Poor Liz was my low self-esteem. Paul was the narcissist every writer needs to be. Georgia had a head on her shoulders, mostly.
I think, ultimately, Keeper is as bleak as it is because I was so young. An older, wiser person might see the light at the end of the tunnel. An older, bitter person wouldn’t be able to tell the story at all. I could never write that story again, but I’m so glad that I did. It speaks to people. Maybe it calls to that hot-head kid we all used to be, and still are. It’s the hot-heads who act. Everybody else stays on schedule.
The Missing had a different impetus. I was having fun. How cool to start a vampire-zombie origin story. I loved writing that—it was hard, of course, but most of it just flowed. Fenstad and Meg were such a fun couple, and their daughter Maddie was so funny. I fact, I found the whole thing funny. It was a comment on current events, particularly the war in Iraq, but it was also pretty gleeful. Or at least, I thought it was gleeful. Then again, Kafka thought Metamorphosis was so funny he couldn’t read it without bursting in laughter. So, to each his own!
Sarah Langan
I can't decide! My younger daughter is going as Batman, my older one as a cat. I'm thinking I'll stay on theme and go as Dark Phoenix from the X-Men, or Batgirl (who doesn't love Barbara Gordon?). Think the least sexy-tight outfit incarnations of these characters. I used to go every year as a witch, so I'm trying to shake things up. Today, my younger daughter is home sick so we're heading to the local ballet supply store to get leotards.
We'll go to a local parade and then a party in the neighborhood. We'll hand out mini Twix, Snickers, Reeces, and Kit-Kats. I'm personally partial to straight-up dark chocolate Specials Bars, but kids never like 'em. I've never understood circus peanuts. They are horrible!
We'll go to a local parade and then a party in the neighborhood. We'll hand out mini Twix, Snickers, Reeces, and Kit-Kats. I'm personally partial to straight-up dark chocolate Specials Bars, but kids never like 'em. I've never understood circus peanuts. They are horrible!
Sarah Langan
I’ve just finished a new novel called THE CLINIC and I’m really excited about it. It’s very much in the same vein as my previous books, but I’ve grown a lot and I think gotten more sophisticated as a storyteller.
I started the book about three years ago, having no idea why I’d abandoned two other novels to work on it. I only knew that something felt uneasy in my life as a new mother for the second time, and in my marriage, too. I’d become obsessed with Mad Men, and in retrospect, for good reason. The show isn’t about the 60s; it’s about now. Just as our own parents grew up getting more rod than carrot, we grew up in a world where dads (and I’m talking about the subset, here, of middle and upper middle class families that stayed together) were the boss and moms did the laundry. In theory the laundry, caring for extended families, cooking, and helping with homework were just as important as taking the train into on office, but in reality, no way. I grew up thinking what my mom did was stupid. Frankly, I grew up thinking women were less important. I was less important.
And then our generation of women was supposed to grow up and be equal with our partners, which is easy when you don’t have kids, and pretty impossible once you do. Who does those stupid jobs, like running the house and the schedule? And hey, wait, they’re not actually stupid jobs, are they? They’re pretty vital, it turns out. They’re just not valued financially, though, in fact, they do have a real financial value. They’re also very lonely jobs.
I don’t think I’m alone in my utter bewilderment, trying to figure out my place in all that. I think it’s generational. We’re the talking generation. Which is what makes me think we’ll do a good job at resolving it.
All that aside, the story’s about a struggling family whose son is sick. He’s got cancer. But it turns out, what he has isn’t really cancer. And the hospital that’s treating him isn’t really out to help him. The corporation that owns the hospital is killing senators and presidents to acquire global water rights. They’re treating the water with anti-malarial chemicals. Except, the chemicals don’t just kill malaria.
It’s the first book in what I hope will be a three book series called INVISIBLE MONSTERS.
I started the book about three years ago, having no idea why I’d abandoned two other novels to work on it. I only knew that something felt uneasy in my life as a new mother for the second time, and in my marriage, too. I’d become obsessed with Mad Men, and in retrospect, for good reason. The show isn’t about the 60s; it’s about now. Just as our own parents grew up getting more rod than carrot, we grew up in a world where dads (and I’m talking about the subset, here, of middle and upper middle class families that stayed together) were the boss and moms did the laundry. In theory the laundry, caring for extended families, cooking, and helping with homework were just as important as taking the train into on office, but in reality, no way. I grew up thinking what my mom did was stupid. Frankly, I grew up thinking women were less important. I was less important.
And then our generation of women was supposed to grow up and be equal with our partners, which is easy when you don’t have kids, and pretty impossible once you do. Who does those stupid jobs, like running the house and the schedule? And hey, wait, they’re not actually stupid jobs, are they? They’re pretty vital, it turns out. They’re just not valued financially, though, in fact, they do have a real financial value. They’re also very lonely jobs.
I don’t think I’m alone in my utter bewilderment, trying to figure out my place in all that. I think it’s generational. We’re the talking generation. Which is what makes me think we’ll do a good job at resolving it.
All that aside, the story’s about a struggling family whose son is sick. He’s got cancer. But it turns out, what he has isn’t really cancer. And the hospital that’s treating him isn’t really out to help him. The corporation that owns the hospital is killing senators and presidents to acquire global water rights. They’re treating the water with anti-malarial chemicals. Except, the chemicals don’t just kill malaria.
It’s the first book in what I hope will be a three book series called INVISIBLE MONSTERS.
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