A second book on needles
When I’m not writing or traveling or tweeting or cooking,
I’m usually knitting. And lately, I’ve been making jokes about something all
knitters know too well: Second Sock Syndrome. This happens when you knit one
sock, and you are super proud of your awesome sock with all the lace motifs and
self-striping and what have you. But then you wander off and lose interest and
never finish the second sock. Many knitters have houses full of lonely single
socks longing for mates.
Thing is, you need that second sock, or else you don’t have
socks at all, just Christmas stockings for Lilliputians. Socks come in two.
My brain has made a strong connection between sequels/series
and Second Sock Syndrome.
I always knew that The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland
had a sequel. Not when I put the first sentence down, but by the time I got to
the final chapter, I knew the next part of the story, the other side of the
mirror. That’s why I ended it the way I did: For when she lifted her
daughter up out of the threadbare couch, September cast no shadow at all. I
wanted a second book, a book in which to talk about consequences, moral
complication, the underworld of Fairyland, and September’s shadow. Socks come
in two.
Fairyland is now a five book series, and I know a lot of how
it’s going to go. I have a plan. Some of it I’ve known for awhile and some new
thing falls into my head every day. Sometimes it’s hard to get out that second
sock—you forgot the pattern, you screwed up the gusset right out of the gate
and don’t remember how you got it right the first time around, you ran out of
the original color of yarn. Origin stories are always easier than middle books.
But if you don’t make that second sock, you’ve got nothing. You’ve got
something incomplete. And that’s why I wrote The Girl Who Fell Beneath
Fairyland. There was a loose thread, and it was the color of a shadow. And
now it’s not a question of just socks—obviously, you need mittens and a nice
hat to go with it. Five—the number of limbs coming out of the torso, plus the
head. It’s a mystic number, a powerful one.
Sequels have a whole host of challenges attached—I learned
so much writing this book. I’ve written series before, but usually only a few
characters follow from book to book. Not so with September and Ell and Saturday
and the lot coming back. Sequels are tricksy and daring beasts: You have to
shepherd beloved characters but give them an arc, make them fresh again. You
have to comment on the first without being a complete retread (ok, the sock
metaphor falls down a little, since the second sock can never be exactly like
the first). You have to lay the map for the next books while telling a complete
and satisfying story. You have to make continuing on as interesting as the
magical beginning. There are a lot of dishes to spin. I hope I’ve managed to do
it--I am so happy that I got to tell this other story of September’s life and
adventures, that I got to return to Fairyland. That I, and everyone, gets to
keep going back for awhile yet. When I think of this pair of books, sitting on
the shelf in scarlet and violet side by side, when I think of their
relationship and their conversation with one another, I think about it most in
terms of matching, of opposites, of sets. Socks, colors, seasons. They may seem
silly, but I always think of my books this way, ask myself ridiculous questions
about their nature. What color are they? What season? What kind of tree?
The first novel is full of light, the second full of shadow.
The first is a persimmon tree, the second a dark yew. The first is wish
fulfillment, the second faces the complex net of cause and effect that wish
fulfillment always brings. The first is summer, the second autumn. The first
green and orange and red, the second blue and silver and violet. They go
together; they match. They are like two little girls standing back to back.
September—and her shadow.

What a brilliant post. Thank you Catherynne
To find out more about Catherynne:
Website: http://www.catherynnemvalente.com/
Twitter: @catvalente
Lovely post. Struck a particular chord with me as I also tend to see my books in terms of knitting!
ReplyDeleteLovely guest post! Luckily you put that last line in italics so I could skip over it because I haven't read the first book yet! It sounds so awesome though.
ReplyDelete