What Writing My First Fiction Novel Has Taught Me So Far

I’m approaching the final two chapters of the first revision of my first fiction novel in my island mystery series, and I’ve found myself reflecting on just how much this journey has changed me, not only as a writer but as a person.

When I first began this book, I had an idea, a setting, fragments of characters, and a feeling I wanted to capture. I knew the atmosphere I wanted readers to step into. I knew I wanted mystery, depth, humanity, humour, and emotion woven through island life.

What I didn’t fully realise was this:

Writing a novel teaches you how to write a novel.

There is only so much learning you can do from books, courses, or advice from other writers. At some point, you need to enter the story yourself and stumble through it chapter by chapter.

And stumble, I did.

Some scenes flowed beautifully. Others felt like dragging a fishing boat uphill through volcanic rock. Some chapters surprised me entirely, taking turns I never expected. Certain characters became far more complex than I’d planned, while others quietly disappeared into the mist.

Along the way, I’ve learnt about pacing, tension, dialogue, structure, layering clues, emotional depth, and perhaps most importantly, patience with the creative process itself.

Now, as I revisit the earlier chapters during revision, I can clearly see how much my writing has evolved since those opening pages. In some ways, it’s encouraging. In other ways, it’s slightly inconvenient! Because naturally, I now want to revisit sections with fresher eyes and stronger skills.

So yes … there will likely be another revision before the final editing process begins.

And honestly? I’m okay with that.

Because perhaps the biggest thing this book has taught me has nothing to do with writing technique at all.

I’ve always been very goal-oriented. Give me a task, a mission, an outcome to reach, and I’ll charge towards it at full speed. Finish the job. Tick the box. Move on to the next thing.

And if I’m honest, that’s how I initially approached this novel too.

Write the book. Finish the book. Publish the book. Quickly.

After all, I have so many more stories waiting impatiently in the wings.

But somewhere during this process, something shifted.

This book has gently taught me that creativity cannot always be rushed towards an end point. That writing fiction is not simply about arriving at publication with a completed manuscript in hand. It’s about the experience of living inside the story while you create it.

It’s about allowing the characters room to breathe and surprise you.

It’s about following threads you never intended to pull.

It’s about disappearing down rabbit holes that suddenly whisper,

“Actually… this might be another book entirely.”

And yes, sometimes I have to haul myself back towards the main plot before I accidentally create an entirely different trilogy halfway through chapter nineteen.

But I’m learning to enjoy that too.

I’m learning that the magic often lives within the wandering.

I think for much of my life, achievement has been tied to productivity, the satisfaction of completion, accomplishment, reaching the destination. Yet fiction writing is slowly teaching me another way of being. One where there is joy in the unfolding itself.

Joy in the discovery. Joy in the uncertainty. Joy in learning as I go.

For perhaps the first time in a very long time, I’m allowing myself to experience creativity without constantly pressuring myself to hurry towards the finish line.

And strangely, the more I relax into the process, the richer the story becomes.

Some days brought excitement, others doubt. Days when I questioned the entire story, and days where a single paragraph reminded me exactly why I began.

What’s surprised me most is how emotionally attached I’ve become to this fictional world. The islands, the atmosphere, the secrets, the relationships, the tensions, they’ve all become strangely real companions over these past months.

And perhaps that’s the magic of fiction.

At some point, the story stops feeling like something you’re merely creating, and begins feeling like somewhere you’ve actually lived.

So here I am, nearing the end of this revision journey while also standing at the beginning of another stage entirely.

Still learning. Still refining. Still getting lost down literary rabbit holes.

But now, finally, also allowing myself to enjoy the adventure of it all.

Slowly but surely, the story is becoming what it was always meant to be.

And for now, that feels enough.

Sally x

Sally Somerton - Island Writer

www.sallysomerton.com

All Rights Reserved

©sallysomerton2026