Karen Novak has published four novels with Bloomsbury—Five Mile House (2000), Ordinary Monsters (2002), Innocence (2004), and The Wilderness (2005)—and written more. She says she has traveled the arc from beginner to writer to author. She now thinks of herself as someone who writes, with process being more important than publishing. “What counts is how writing changes the writer rather than the writer seeing her name on a cover,” says Karen. See her blog and more.
What past event do you often reflect upon, and how that event change you?
The event carrying power enough to change my outlook on living and essential priorities, involved the opening of a box. Hello, Pandora. Inside the box: my first hardcover copies of my first novel, Five Mile House. My instant thought on seeing my life-long dream made true? This isn’t going to change anything either. To hold that first copy was to realize that I’d made just another book. What resonated in me was wrapped in all the work, insights, and friends encountered within the making. I understood then that publishing isn’t the point. The joy must be in the writing. That changes everything.
How does your work add to the quality of your life?
My quality of my life depends on the time I can give to my work. If I don’t write for a week or two, my attitude becomes a misery to others. Eventually, a friend or family member will say, “Go write something!” I do. I feel better. The other aspect of my work that lifts my sense of worth are the writing craft circles I get to facilitate for Women Writing for (a) Change. In my circles, we focus on a method I’m calling Compassionate Craft. Less red ink. More recognition of the the writer’s strengths that will help them recognize and solve narrative problems.
Tell us a story you would like to share with the world.
A friend was driving me home on a busy thoroughfare when her heart collapsed. Somehow, I, oddly calm, steered the car into a parking lot on the other side of the street. I grabbed her phone and dialed 911. The rescue squad arrived in under two minutes. They told me I’d saved her life. Way too melodramatic. I did what anyone would have done—the only option available to save us both. I learned that day when I don’t have clue of what to do, the subconscious me takes over to do what’s necessary. The moral? We know what we’re doing, even when we don’t. Act first. Panic later.
Author photo: Tanya Bartlett.
Side bar image: Pixabay/Edar.
