The Long Middle (Where Most Writers Quit)

For writers who didn’t leave — even when the middle felt endless.

     There’s a period of writing life that lacks applause, deadlines, or certainty — only time.

     After I wrote my first two books with less-than-favorable outcomes, I struggled. Now, I know we’ve all heard the saying, ‘if it were easy, everyone would be doing it.’ This applies to many things, from bodybuilding to becoming a doctor, but part of me wonders—I kept wondering if it was supposed to feel this hard — or if the difficulty meant something about me.

     It’s just not.

     Writing is never easy. Every book raises new questions and problems to solve. Each time I start a new book, it feels like I’ve forgotten how I finished the last one. I call it creative amnesia—annoying little bugger, and it appears every single time.

     Think about it, a writer’s life is very similar to the work itself. When you start to write a novel, you have the hook—the captivating incident. It’s full of action or emotion, at least it should be, and the end is the climax—the denouement. Both are full of excitement.

     Then, there’s the middle part.

     If you’re not careful, it can feel like a long walk through the desert—dry, dull, and filled with too many pages before reaching the next climax. That’s the hardest part. That’s where most writers give up. No one cares about your writing but you. Non-writers don’t understand how long it can take to finish a novel, so if you started this project two years ago and still have nothing to show for it, it must mean you’re just messing around. Are you even writing at all?

     After two books with no success, I struggled to tell people I was a writer. It also gets tricky when you have to write a query to a new agent. Back when I was still determined to succeed in traditional publishing, I would hesitate when asked what I had been doing. I wasn’t a new writer, nor was I successful. It was awkward.

     But I also believe that growth occurs in the middle. During COVID, when everything around me was falling apart, and my family relationships were strained to the limit, I took online writing classes. I had already written six novels by then, but I was still far from achieving the success I envisioned.

     I started my latest novel, Dutch Lodge, during COVID. It felt like trying a diet again after failing countless times, but I had an idea, and like all my other writing ideas, it didn’t quietly fade away.

     So, I wrote. At first, it was just to clear it from my mind, with no real plans for it. I also couldn’t decide whether to use first or third person. I actually wrote it both ways — hell, I had the time. Then my mom needed more care, and the writing slowed down again.

     It wasn’t until earlier this year, after my mom passed away and I had time to grieve, that I pulled the nearly finished book from the back file and resumed working on it. Life happens. Books sometimes stall, but they don’t have to stay that way. I decided to adopt a third-person narrative and finished it.

     I also quietly published it.

     There are some projects I’ve started but haven’t finished—yet. They are new ideas, often in a genre that’s exciting and unfamiliar to me, and when I’m unsure of what to do, I tend to procrastinate. I have a young-adult sci-fi novel I began a few years ago but set aside, mainly because I haven’t read any sci-fi in the last twenty or so years, so it’s like working with blinders on. I know I’ll eventually finish it, but what form it will take remains unclear.

     Then there’s the noir pulp fiction I’m working on right now. It’s like running through mud. I’m old, but not 1940s old, so the slang and dialogue are rough, but the idea refuses to be forgotten. I’m thinking of those old dime-store paperbacks they used to sell at the checkout counter. Portable little darlings you could stick in your purse and finish on a long train ride or while waiting in the doctor’s office.

     I’ve come to see that those quiet stretches weren’t empty after all…We can experiment with new ideas, new ways of writing, publishing, and growing. I used to think my quiet time was my failure. It’s not—it’s an opportunity just waiting to breathe.     

     If you’re still here — even quietly — you’re not failing. You’re in the middle.

     Until next time, dip from your inkwell often,

     Mira Wolfe Writes …