Each Child and Book Are Different, and That’s Why You Need Community

By Jennifer Gallo Gaites

Twenty-two years ago, I spent the first few weeks of my daughter’s life carefully following the advice given to nursing mothers in the hospital: no pacifiers, no bottles, feed on demand. Add to that the advice of parenting books: no co-sleeping, nothing plush in the crib, put the baby on their backs to sleep. It all added up to no fun, no sleep, and lots of crying (for all parties involved). 

A year later, I was pregnant again. On the one hand, I was overwhelmed by the work I knew was ahead of me. But, with a year of parenting behind me, I also felt I knew what to expect. 

“This time,” I thought, “I’ll know what I’m doing.” Surely, it’d be easier the second time around, right? No. 

But…   

I soon realized that there are very few transferable skills in parenting: What works for one child fails with the next. My daughter liked to be swaddled tightly. My son needed to stretch out. My daughter was willful, completely refusing bottles. My son, a bit more open to being fed however it was being offered. But unlike my first go-round, in between pregnancies, I’d joined a play group and now had trusted mothers I could turn to for advice and to commiserate with. The idea to stop swaddling? Came from a mom friend. The bottle my son liked best? I saw another friend use it with her child. My group of mothers and I compared notes, shared what worked, and what didn’t. As our group grew larger with more children, our breadth of experience grew too. 

Over time, I’ve learned that each child’s personality dictates my course of action. And, I’ve learned my own strengths and weaknesses. When my third child was born, 10 years after the first, it was like I was learning to ride a bicycle all over again (if the bike were motorized. And a unicycle). But I knew who to turn to when I was feeling overwhelmed.

From colicky nights to college drop offs, my peers and I have laughed, we’ve cheered each other on, we’ve felt less alone, we’ve learned to trust ourselves. And, when things have felt completely out of control, we’ve trusted each other. Together, we’ve discovered there are no clear instructions, but that parenting is a combination of carefully considered advice, some magic, and a lot of work. 

I think about this a lot lately as I sit in front of my computer screen, feeling paralyzed by the giant revision process that I’m facing for a draft of my current novel-in-progress. Over the years, I’ve worked on various writing projects–personal essays, a memoir, a novel–and each drums up new excitement and also self-doubt. Every time I set out on a path, I think, “I know what to do,” only to be stymied by questions that arise during the process. Like, how can I amp up tension? Or, how am I supposed to weave backstory in without overwhelming the reader? 

Each project is completely different, and my thinking needs to shift accordingly. I always wonder which form will best serve a story. Will focusing on a moment have enough impact? Or is writing big and traversing time a better approach? Each stage of writing feels like uncharted territory (drafting, early revisions, late stage revisions). Why does it feel like lessons I’ve learned with one project don’t neatly translate to another? 

When I pose these questions to my fellow writers–trusted peers and keen readers–they nod with understanding. That alone helps. Maybe someone will recommend a book where a specific element of craft is done well, “Have you read….?” Or, a fresh reader will remind me of my strengths as a writer. With any luck, I can take it from there. 

Recently, I had the pleasure of sitting down with author Mary Beth Keane to discuss her fourth book The Half Moon. When I asked her if writing gets any easier with each book, she answered, “No. But…” 

And the “but…” offered a glimmer of hope. The writing might not get easier, but she knows she can do it. The moving parts of a story don’t suddenly work themselves out, but she knows she’ll eventually puzzle together a solution. Then she said something that struck me: She was lamenting a challenge she’s having with a current project, when another trusted writer reminded her that she’s done this before. Not only has she written multiple books, but her specific concerns about setting a story in an era without it being overwhelmed by major historical events is something she’d already done in her third book. Her writing peer reminded her she’d figured it out once, she’d do it again. 

Carefully sought advice. A little magic. A lot of hard work.   

With writing, as with parenting, I think much of the secret lies not only in our learned skills, but in having a community. Yes, each project strengthens our craft. We build stamina, problem-solving strategies, and maybe even patience. But, for me, the big takeaway is the importance of a writing community. Like those early groups of moms that saved my sanity decades ago, I need to have people who remind me that the doubts and struggles I feel are not unique to me. Writers who can share what they’ve tried, what they’ve learned, and what’s worked for them (or not). And, sometimes, a trusted ear or a fresh set of eyes is all that’s needed to regain energy or to invigorate a project. 

Jennifer Gallo Gaites is a writing instructor at Project Write Now, a nonprofit writing center, and a Peer Artist Leader at book inc (bookinc.org), a writing collective for memoir and novel writers. She is working on a novel and writes essays about identity and motherhood. Her work has been published in Riverteeth’s “Beautiful Things,” WOW Women on Writing, Hippocampus and Literary Mama. When she’s not reading or writing, she’s either asking her college-aged kids too many questions or trying to understand her middle-schooler’s obsession with YouTube. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and three children.