Musings From a Frustrated Writer

Why Writing a Second Novel is Harder (and How I’m Finding My Way Back)

When I sat down to start writing What the Shadows Took, the ideas flowed faster than my fingers could keep up. I’d take voice notes while driving just to capture thoughts before they vanished, scribbled outlines on napkins, and saved dialogue on any scrap of paper within reach. Inspiration struck constantly, relentlessly—and the novel poured out of me in what felt like one long exhale.

But starting my next novel has been a different experience altogether.

I’m an incredibly self-aware person, which means I’m painfully aware of why the words aren’t coming as easily this time. Higher expectations, personal life stresses, spending creative energy querying instead of drafting—it all matters. And the longer I wait to dive fully into this second project, the louder that nagging voice grows: What if the first novel was just a glitch?

I know I'm not alone in feeling this way. Here's how I'm planning to find my footing again—and maybe it will help you find yours, too.

Why Staring at a Blank Page Feels Scarier the Second Time Around

When I sat down to write What the Shadows Took, ideas flowed effortlessly. Writing had always been my safe space—my “thing.” I loved the anticipation of seeing what my mind could create, whether poetry, essays, or stories scribbled in margins or whispered into my voice notes app.

Writing gave me a sense of control. I entered my first poetry competition in fifth grade, aced essays all through high school, and considered creative writing as part of my identity.

But as I begin work on What the Shadows Kept, that eager anticipation is nowhere to be found. Instead, there’s a thick knot of dread settled deep in my stomach every time I face that blinking cursor on the blank page. I have a detailed outline, a working synopsis, and a clear idea of where I'm going. Logically, I should feel excited—especially after the encouraging feedback I've received from early readers of my first novel.

Yet I'm terrified. My brain won't stop spinning anxious what-ifs:

• What if I used all my creative energy on the first novel?

• What if What the Shadows Took never even publishes?

• What if I disappoint everyone who believed in my first book?

• What if no one who read it actually liked it?

It feels strange—and maybe a bit scary—to admit this fear out loud, but I know I’m not alone. Creative anxiety is painfully common. But maybe by naming these fears, I can reclaim some power over them. Maybe we all can.

I Haven’t Reclaimed My Creativity Yet (But Here’s What I'm Trying)

I wish I could say that writing this post fixed everything. But the truth is, I haven’t fully reclaimed my creativity yet. I'm still in the messy middle, figuring it out one small step at a time. However, here are a few gentle strategies I’m experimenting with right now. They haven’t solved everything, but they’re helping.

• Giving myself permission to write badly

  When it comes to writing, I am a perfectionist. I have the (horrible) habit of editing as I write, which can be great—I am a pretty awesome critic—but also frustrating as it inhibits the creative process.

  Stephen King champions the method of writing at least 3,000 words a day, even if they’re not good. Starting next week over spring break, I’m going to try to incorporate this practice into my own routine. No editing, no looking back, no stalling—just pure writing for the sake of telling a story. I’m hoping that this practice breaks down some of those creative blocks and allows the story to flow through me and into the page.

• Reading books purely for joy

  I tell my students often to “write like a reader and read like a writer” when they are in the trenches of a hard novel or writing assignment. I plan on following my own advice and diving back into my TBR.

  I pushed aside reading while I was writing What the Shadows Took because I was afraid of letting another book influence the story that I was telling. In that time, I racked up a hefty list of novels that I want to dive into and enjoy. On the top of my TBR are Leather and Lark by Brynne Weaver, Onyx Storm by Rebecca Yarros, Nightbane by Alex Aster, and When the Moon Hatched by Sarah A. Parker. These books are genre-adjacent to mine and I’m hoping that reading through them will help me get my spark back.

• Returning to poetry and short-form writing

  My background in writing is as a poet. I’ve been writing poetry for longer than I can remember—it feels like it has always been a part of me, simmering beneath the surface even when I take breaks from it. There is significantly less pressure in writing a poem than in writing a novel. I can be messy and creative in a way that I don’t feel like I have the freedom to be when I write novels. Taking a short break and returning to shorter pieces of writing will hopefully help me remember why I love writing in the first place.

• Talking honestly with fellow writers

  I know that every author struggles, even if people aren’t always talking about it. By being honest about these struggles and frustrations, I’m hoping that I can find a like-minded community who wants to lean on each other during these tough times. Feel the same? Reach out in the comments!

I’m still very much in the thick of it, but I’m hopeful—and that is enough for now. Maybe you’re feeling this way, too, and if you are, I hope it helps to know that you’re not alone. Need a little more help to get started? Let’s talk about it in the comments.

Photo by Ryan Snaadt on Unsplash