By Leigh Dunlap
When someone asks me what I do for a living (usually on an airplane or at a party over a bowl of Ruffles) I say, “I’m a screenwriter” and then I catch myself and add: “But my first book is coming out in August.” Even though I’ve sold a book, I still feel like screenwriting is my real job. Like writing a novel is some kind of hobby when, in fact, I spent way more time working on my book in the past two years than I did on any script.
My mind understands screenwriting in a way it doesn’t understand novel writing. Writing a book is like learning a second language. When I sit down to write, I feel like I’m an American tourist in Paris blurting out “muchas gracias” before quickly saying “merci” in some horrible accent that mangles the word into a Frankensteinian hybrid of mercy and Marcy. There’s a constant translation going on in my head when I’m writing a novel, and a constant internal battle to not give up, that inner dialogue that says “You can do it!” or “Puedes hacerlo!” or “Tu peux le fiare!” Use your words!
When I first began my novel, I found myself frustrated with the sheer number of words that were required. Why do I need so many of these pesky words? Honestly, it seemed like overkill. For example, in my book I wrote:
Birdie came down the bleachers toward the field in a huff, stepping over and sometimes on other parents. She wanted to stop herself, but she couldn’t. She never could. Birdie felt like she was the voice of reason and the enforcer of rules and the only sensible person in almost any situation. Birdie didn’t “do” polite. “Tact” was not a four-letter word in her arsenal. She sometimes went to sleep hating herself, but at least she could sleep at night. Unlike lesser women who cared what people thought of them.
In my head, though, all I kept thinking was how much easier it would be if it were in a screenplay. The script version would be:
BIRDIE exited the bleachers and approached the field.
A screenplay is so direct. I’m literally trying to use the fewest words possible to convey the necessary information. A novel, however…what a different beast. It’s a monster with a ravenous hunger for letters, words and paragraphs. There’s no leaving it up to a costume designer or a cinematographer or a director. I’m responsible for the clothing, the casting, the light and the sets. I’m the egotistical artistic dictator in charge of this literary world.
I have to admit that after a while (two years, four hundred drafts, a few tears), I grew to love the expansion that is writing a novel. I grew to love the thesaurus and the word count option from the pulldown menu and the addition of words–just in time for my publisher to make me cut untold thousands of them.
Yeah, I’m a screenwriter. And a novel writer. Turns out both get edited just same. C’est le vie.
