The Debut Novel: Trials & Tribulations (guest post)

C.C. King
2 days ago
4 min read

Writing a debut novel asks more of us than just time at the keyboard. It takes stamina, vulnerability, and the kind of stubborn determination that keeps us typing even when life is loud, messy, or downright overwhelming.

Woman with long hair smiles subtly, wearing a denim jacket, standing against a light wooden background. Calm and relaxed mood. — Author Caitlin Forbes

As someone who’s currently querying my first novel, I’m endlessly fascinated by the behind-the-scenes realities of getting a book written—what it really feels like to push through doubt, exhaustion, and the constant fear that the story in your head won’t make it to the page. It’s one thing to chase an idea; it’s another to keep going long after the initial spark fades.

That’s why I’m so pleased to welcome author Caitlin Forms, author of What Comes Next, to the blog today. In her guest post, she shares a candid look at the emotional and logistical challenges of writing her debut novel while balancing a demanding job, new motherhood, and the ever-present voice of self-doubt.

She also writes about what surprised her most once the book reached readers: the simple, unexpected kindness of people cheering her on.

If you’ve ever wondered whether the struggle you feel while drafting is normal—or whether anyone else hears that whisper of “who am I to write this?”—her words will resonate.

Let's get to today's guest post!

—CC

The Struggle & Process of Publishing a Debut Novel

by Caitlin Forbes

Writing and publishing a debut novel was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And that includes birthing a baby 😊.

A woman with blonde hair writes at a wooden desk in a cozy room, with framed pictures on the wall and a crib nearby.

But in all seriousness, it is really, freaking hard. First, there’s the actual logistics of it. Most authors don’t have the luxury to write as a career. I drafted my novel while working a demanding full-time job; I also ended up doing most of my editing in the first year after my son’s birth.

The only way I could fit in writing was to become a pretty regimented human: scheduling out almost every hour of my day so that I could do my job, be the mom who my son needed, and still write regularly. On weekdays, I wrote for two hours every night after my son went to bed. On weekends, I wrote during naps and, if I was lucky, before he woke up in the morning. And always, I was scribbling ideas and half formed thoughts in my notes app on my phone.

I loved the writing part; but it was also incredibly exhausting.

And then there’s the emotional component: the imposter syndrome while writing and the constant fear of not finishing or writing something that was just bad. Never mind everything that comes after the first draft, when you have to actually show people your writing. I didn’t take creative writing in college because I was terrified of anyone reading my work.

Woman in black armor stands before a bulletin board filled with rejection letters in an office. Mood suggests determination.

Writing a novel, and sharing it with early readers and then agents and then editors and then the world… that’s basically my nightmare. We’re told to have a thick skin as writers, to not take things personally (it’s all subjective!), and yet… writing is personal. The very act of writing deeply requires shedding that thick skin to get to the good stuff.

So it is overwhelming and stressful and scary, yet and yet and yet… it is incredibly worth it. Every time, that’s the take home message, the truest part of the story.

Writing a novel changed my life. It helped me see the world in a different way. It reminded me why I fell in love with reading. It helped me tell the story I remember once needing to exist.

I won’t pretend I enjoyed the publishing part—trying to “sell” my work to readers—but even that came with this incredible gift... this reminder of others’ kindness. Because when I published my debut novel, so many people cared. Old friends and acquaintances that I haven’t spoken to in years reached out to tell me they bought my book. To tell me to keep writing. To tell me they were on my side. All these people who had no reason to care, except that their instinct was kindness.

And I think that in the end, regardless of the reviews and the sales numbers and the countless rewrites, that’s what I’ll remember most. That kindness. That glimpse into the best parts of people.

Which in the end, is really why I write.

—Caitlin

About the Guest Blogger

Caitlin Forbes, author of the novel What Comes Next, is a writer who earned her master's degree in creative writing from Goddard College. Her work can be found in Slut Vomit: An Anthology of Sex Work, Tales to Terrify, WOW! Women on Writing, The Pitkin Review, and more.

She is the Executive Manager at Mount Peter Ski Area, where she grew up skiing in the winter and dreaming up stories in the summer. Her favorite days are spent knocking around story ideas with her husband. She lives in the Hudson Valley with her husband, son, and a ridiculous amount of furry family members.