Writing my first novel wasn’t just about telling a story; it was about learning how to tell one. I didn’t come into it with a writing background. I had to figure out the structure, the language, the character development—everything. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but also one of the most rewarding
Structurally, I knew where I wanted the story to go. I had a clear idea of the character’s journey—someone living a normal life, faced with a challenge they initially reject because change is uncomfortable. Then something happens, forcing them to accept the challenge. From here, things get worse before they get better. There’s false hope, setbacks, that “all is lost” moment, and eventually, a triumph.
This part, surprisingly, came easier for me. But the hardest part? Expanding that journey into 86,000 meaningful words.
Writing that many words is one thing. Writing that many words in English, which isn’t my first language, in a way that flows, feels natural, and holds the reader’s attention—that’s something else entirely.
I had to make sure the pacing was right, that each scene served a purpose, and that the dialogue sounded real. And maybe most importantly, I had to make sure every character had a distinct voice. I didn’t want to create characters who all sounded the same. I wanted each of them to feel like real individuals with different ways of thinking, speaking, and reacting.
That part took time. A lot of it.
I spent hours developing backstories, motivations, and emotional truths for each person in the novel. They needed reasons for what they did—reasons that made sense to them, and reasons that could connect with the reader.
Learning to write fiction wasn’t just about plot or grammar. It was about learning how to make people care.
That, more than anything else, was the challenge I had to overcome.