On My Debut Piece of Fiction

I’ve gotten asked a few times about how I feel knowing that novels I’ve written are out there, published under someone else’s name.

Context: I ghostwrite fiction on the side; been doing that for years now and I’ve written countless stories for all kinds of clients.

My answer: I feel good. I feel very good about it, because — of all the stuff I’ve written, I consider none of it good enough to bear my name. Outstanding in technique and sublimeness, but definitely not good enough to be called my debut work of fiction. Not tectonic, not momentous enough for me. E bang, but e no too bang.

But I’m still learning. Still evolving, still growing into the person I know I’m meant to be. The day I’m ready to write my debut novel, I shall.

And by God, I’ll give it everything — blood, sweat & tears as required. I’ll leave the imprint of my heart thereupon. I’ll do the work to get signed by the right publishers. I’ll make sure my artistic essence is discernible on every page. I’ll give it all I’ve got; by the skill of my pen and by the Spirit of God who enables.

And at that point, critical acclaim (or the lack thereof) won’t even matter — because I’d have proven a point to myself. I’d have let loose a story that’s brewed in my heart and my file drafts for eight years now. I’d have given myself that rare high that an artist cannot get from mercenary art. I’d have told a tale I consider personally relevant. I’d have hit the first milestone of the rest of my life. I’d have conjured the sort of masterpiece that a name like Noëlla Mashim Lepdung deserves.

So to any writer who’s going through that initial struggle of putting a price on words that come from your soul, you can relax. Focus on the money and on the insane levels of improvement you’re getting. See — your art comes from within, and from your unique perception of the world around you.

It’s like a fountain that will always produce more beauty, more skill and more substance. More of whatever emotion you choose to evoke in your readers. This fountain won’t run dry simply because you’re cashing out.

You can’t exhaust all your creativity on a client’s job, man. You just cannot. Your creativity can wane for certain reasons, but you’ll find your way back home. I know that sounds cliché as hell, but it’s true. By virtue of being a writer, you pretty much have superpowers that don’t go away. Trust that.

One more thing — you don’t have to be published / have a career in writing to be a writer. If you write, you’re a writer. Just to different degrees, I guess; but don’t let anyone diminish that. You sef, don’t diminish it.

T for thanks.