Getting the Perfect Title

I’ve been speaking to my agent, Lisa Moylett, who I love like a sister...a nice, kind sister who says the right things and builds your self-esteem...not the sort of bitchy sister who nicks your new top and gets wine down it. I guess that it is her job to give her clients confidence, but it’s hard to persuade myself that she’s ‘faking it’. Anyway, she’s far too nice a person to be able to lie...and there are times when she ‘tells it like it is’, so when she’s very nice about my work, all I can do is glow.

 In the last days, we’ve been talking about titles. The book she’s about to send out to editors had a working title of Changelings. I looked for a new title because I felt that had been done too many times and didn’t feel right. My choice was God of the Beanstalk Land...please don’t ask me to explain; suffice to say that in the redrafts Lisa advised, beanstalks became less important and I changed it to More Full of Longing... which is a quote from a favourite poem of my by WB Yeats...The Stolen Child. But Lisa didn’t think that was the right title.

Together, we arrived at a four point plan for finding the perfect title to any book:

1.     It should ‘fall off the tongue’ when you say it aloud, announcing what the book is about in as few words as possible...or at least, if long, be instantly memorable and lyrical to repeat, is as We are All Made of Glue. A good ‘side effect’ is that perfect titles stay in the mind as distinct and memorable, so that people who have read the book can recommend it to others. Titles that are too long and random are not good – it should help seize the fleeting attention of a browsing reader, encouraging the buying public to at least take it down from the shelf and flick through.  But most importantly at this early stage is to bear in mind that a good title can initiate the ‘sell’ to a publisher. If the editor’s reader doesn’t like the title,  that might subconsciously influence the amount they like the book

2.     It should arouse emotions and give off the ‘right atmosphere’... so that a little shudder goes up the spine of the ‘right reader’ as they look at the title. For instance Devices and Desires  suggest high-class crime fiction...exactly what that book is. The Far Pavilions tells the reader loads about this story, even before the book is pulled from the bookcase, while Cloud Atlas suggests something rather experimental and modern.

3.     It should be convincing, fresh, positive and exciting. Never chose a title that’s done the rounds, or is a complete red herring so that the reader will still be puzzled why the author chose this title even at the end of the book. I have to admit, I’m still trying to work out who The Stranger’s Child was...and if anyone can illuminate me, I’ll be delighted. Some readers found Wolf Hall an odd title...although I have a theory about that which will no doubt be answered when I read Mantel’s follow-up.

4.     If the title can actually ‘feed’ the reader into the story by ‘sounding right’, then deliver a second whammy when the reader finally understands its full meaning...that’s perfect. For instance, Gill Hicks was one of the last victims to be rescued from London Underground bombings. She was close to death when brought to the surface and had both legs amputated within hours of the disaster. Gill’s first identification bracelet, fixed to her wrist before she left the scene, simply stated…One Unknown…and she used this as the arresting title for her uplifting account.

Writers sometimes hope the perfect title will just ‘arrive’ at some point, like an unexpected fall of snow – and sometimes they are lucky enough to have that happen. But others are still searching for their title long after they’ve completed their book. Not knowing yours should not prevent you from writing your book, but if you’ve got the perfect title from early on, it can  give an emotional and psychological ‘leg up’ – adding focus and vigour to your writing, so I do recommend choosing a ‘working title’ as I did.

Finally, Lisa and I agreed on what we both think is the perfect title. The Stolen Child. Not only is a quote from this poem at the front of the book, but we both think it lives up to all four points of the plan...especially the final one. So I’m asking you all now to cross fingers, arms legs and even eyes for me and Lisa as she sends this novel out to the publishing world. You might like to read the blurb that will go with it...

Barbara Campbell left her home for university and never returned to her family. She’d been a drudge – expected to care for her sick mother, her dour father and her little sister. Now, at twenty-six, she’s finally got it all sewn up; rich lover, a home in the woody heights above Bristol’s suspension bridge and the start of a job she can feel proud of.
 But under the surface, all’s not well. She’s the rookie in a social work team, bullied by her boss and struggling to cope with children who are mistreated, abandoned, fought over and lied about. When a client turns out to be her sister, she has to face the family she’s not seen for eight years.
Her ailing mother reveals a history for Barbara’s nativity that is not what she imagined at all, and sucks her into a world of intrigue, madness and magic, where everything she held dear is tipped upside down, enigmas become crystal clear and fortunes are reversed...
With a major theme of mother love, a powerful narrative line and an undercurrent of dark, dry humour, The Stolen Child will appeal to readers who enjoy edgy and extraordinary fiction, blending reality and romance, myth and mystery, and exploring issues that normally remain hidden behind a veil of professional defensive armour.

How do we Cope with Rejection and Comment?

I can clearly remember that first envelope with that first rejection.

I had thought that my little story was pretty good...I’d worked hard on it. I’d read it aloud to my writing group, and they all loved it...or so they’d said. I printed it out, checking there were no errors throughout and using A4 white paper, wide margins and a cover page. I’d done my market research; I’d chosen a magazine that I was sure would jump at the chance to publish this story.

And yet, a rejection had arrived, paper-clipped to my submission, its logo clearly announcing that the magazine did not want my work – not this time anyway. And so curt was the wording on this slight slip of paper, I was pretty sure they would never want my work. Never want to hear my name spoken in public again.

It was as if someone had released a little valve on me (somewhere around my solar plexus, I think). The sort of little valve that beach balls have so you can blow them up. Sending off my story, I’d felt pretty blown up; all colourful and bouncy. Now I was entirely deflated. My head buzzed with disappointment. I didn’t feel I could move from the sofa, or even put the rejection slip down. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to write again. There was only one thing in the world that could make me feel better right that minute and I fully indulged in a good wallow...no – not whisky, not chocolate...a soppy musical on afternoon telly.

We have all felt like this; especially at the start of a writing career, when rejections tend to come thick and fast. We all have our own way of dealing with the pain – and please, do tell kitchentablewriters what yours is (if printable!) by leaving a comment below.

But finally, if we are to call ourselves writers, we have to get back to writing. We have to start something new, that we can, all over again, work hard on, redraft, read aloud, research a market for, type out neatly and finally send off hopefully. We also have to look at the work that came back and work out why it did. This can, of course, be left until the pain levels have receded, but it is a massive part of the learning curve and the transformation of a ‘person who scribbles’ into ‘a writer’.

In those dim days of first submissions, it wasn’t long before I noticed there were two sorts of rejection. The first was anonymous; at best, the thin slip of printed paper, at worst, an unreturned submission.  The second was more interesting. Instead of a slip, I was getting letters, often (in those days!) handwritten – quickly dashed off, but nevertheless a personal message from the editor. Mostly, those letters still said thanks...but no thanks. But they often said something extra...something specific about the work they’d sent back. Advice on improving it, in fact.

I read these carefully. No one likes altering the work they thought was perfect, and not many of us want to hear criticism, but it did occur to me that the editor didn’t have to write at all, and if they did, I really ought to listen to what was said.

One of the earliest of these letters came from the fiction editor of Bella magazine, Linda O’Byrne, a well-respected member of the publishing community. She told me exactly what she didn’t like about my story. And then she suggested she would read it again, if I could put these things right. I didn’t really need second bidding. I worked hard on improving the work and altering it so that it was closer to the ‘house style’ – the style Linda wanted because she knew it was what the Bella reader wanted. This, after all, is what market research is all about.

I sent this off, and within the week I had an acceptance from Linda, asking me to invoice her for a three figure sum. Everyone in the house stared at this figure for some time. My previous fee for a published story – in the now defunct Annabel – was exactly 10% of this one. My daughter suggested they’d put a zero on by mistake. I couldn’t believe my luck. But now, when I look back, I realize it wasn’t all luck. Obviously, getting published does need a big dollop of good fortune, but it also requires careful planning, some talent, and some of the things I mention above (such as market research). Plus the ability to take criticism on board and do something constructive with it.

Mslexia recently published some findings from a survey they’d carried out. They asked readers how they coped with criticism. A wealth of facts emerged. Around two thirds said they were...hungry for criticism, and a massive 95% of those surveyed (obviously women writers) did show their writing to others before submitting it somewhere, although a lot of those chose to keep this in the family or show it to close friends, rather than other writers. Not a good idea in my eyes. You might get kindly words from your mates, but you’re unlikely to get useful advice.

Half of the responders felt ‘exposed’ when asking for a critique, while one in eight (quite a few) had felt in the past that criticism they’d received was marred because...it was distorted by the insecurities of the person offering it...which might be the reason they were concerned with exposing themselves in the first place! Finding the critique of your work is all bound up with the critics own personal issues may be a genuine problem when asking friends – or even writing circle members – to look at your work, and does suggest that using a professional appraiser is a sensible thing to do, even when it costs money.

About two thirds surveyed waited until they had a full good draft of their work (even if this was a novel, I believe). This was sometimes because they sensed that any advice might destabilize their efforts. Certainly, there is nothing worse, when you’re planning complex but still incomplete work, than having your hopes dashed by someone who can’t see the ‘bigger picture’. Many didn’t want people to read their work until they were totally finished because they were sure they’d ‘lose the creative spark’. I do think this would depend on who saw your work. I certainly hope I never do this to my students. After all, a major reason for showing your work to a mentor or tutor would be to encourage these sparks to grow.

Those looking for, or using, a critical method, might be interested in the levels of criticism that other writers have received. Nearly 20% found these levels...unnecessarily brutal...some found them... contradictory and confusing...or...oto general to be helpful...(‘it doesn’t work for me’ was a comment cited). ‘Too specific’ was another issue – where comments became all about where to put the commas. You might bear this in mind, the next time you’re asked to comment on someone’s writing. You might check through it, the next time you receive comments on your own.

Some of my workshops in the past have included advice on how to critique other peoples work. In workshops, I tend to ask the participants to simply ‘be nice’ initially. When we’re in a room together for five or so hours, I really don’t want people coming to blows. I then usually suggest the obvious; that they might comment positively on one thing they liked while balancing that by talking about one thing they thought might be improved. I’m there to keep an eye on getting that balance right and add suggestions on just how that improvement might be gained.

But when I look at work myself, reading it first and commenting in full later, I try to be as honest as I can, keeping that honesty constructive and practical. Sometimes the way one phrases an honest appraisal is most important. There is no point in being brutal, as those writers above experienced. All it does is deflate the writer’s beach ball, sending them in the direction of chocolate, movies or the whisky bottle. I would never tell someone that their characters were 2 dimensional, or that their plot was laughable. What I might do, however, is talk about how to work towards a fully rounded character or a convincing plot. I would possibly find the very best bits of the work and praise them, suggesting that the sections that don’t come up to scratch in the same way might be improved by asking...what did I do right there?

I’m honoured and fortunate to work with degree students over a period of a year or more, reading up to 6 pieces of their work, so I’m able to use this sort of format to encourage slow but steady improvement. It is amazingly rewarding to see such improvement, and from the feedback I receive, I know that my students think so too...they can really see how their work has moved on.

Believe me, I still need my movie moments. I think every writer always will – even after publication, there are still the newspaper critics ready to tear your work to pieces. But it’s a wonderful thing if you finally find a good mentor, who will help you see your weaknesses at the same time as praising your strengths. For me, this is without doubt the wonderful Lisa Moylett, who is my agent and always ready to give me an hour on the phone. Even if she's telling me what I don't want to hear, I seem to come away feeling nicely inflated, colourful and bouncy. 

And I do hope, for some of you out there, I’ve been a good mentor to you, too.

The king dies...the queen dies...

The king died and then the queen died is a story. The king died and then queen died of grief is a plot –  E.M. Forster

Foster’s definition of plot and story is pretty tight; the only difference is the word grief. No wonder I’ve noticed my students getting a little confused at times between the two. 

Literary theorists like to differentiate between plot and story: plot is the way events are presented to the reader; story is the wider sequence, as we the reader (and author, of course) imagine them to be; their natural order and duration, which, from the perspective of the writing, is somewhat hypothetical. 

A good example of this would be the way a soap opera works inside the head of the viewer. They watch half an hour on screen; the plot they view includes; a couple having a row; a young girl being punched by an older male; a scene in the pub where two old codgers plan some shady business. When the programme is over, the viewer is still processing this; they might ask…what other young girls has this chap hit before…this one should do something about it…why did the couple not see this row coming, after all she’s been ignoring him for her job for months…does this mean divorce is in the offing…will the old codgers get away with this plan, as they did the last… Such meandering is the story behind the plot. We can utilize this in our writing.

Plot is the action that dramatizes the story, making characters come to life. This action consists of the patterns of events and situations that have been selected and arranged by the author to elicit a particular interest in a reader (or audience). Plot has been called the ‘narrative melody’ as it is the motivation around which the story is told, and that melody is entirely in the hands of the writer; they select the story they tell and create a plot to hold it together. 

Plot arises from the result of human activities and adventures, and can be summed up by the word conflict; the opposition of forces between focus characters and their surroundings. A plot should develop conflicts that are eventually resolved, and trace a process of change within the characters caught up in the events. 

An illustration would be the news you tell a friend on meeting them. ‘My dog died last week,’ you say. ‘I’m really sorry,’ the friend replies – they’re your friend and so they are interested – they probably knew the dog. But for this story to interest a reader, it must contain  a tightness that creates surprise and drama, and, most importantly, one that concludes with some satisfaction; whether that’s a happy or sorrowful ending: ‘My dog was run over last week. It was touch and go. I was there by his side all the way. They told me it was a one in a million chance he’d pull through. Then the vet called in a specialist from the city, some bigwig with a new technique. And here he is, by my side, aren’t you Fido?’ (Notice how I can't resist a happy ending!)

This brings us to Cause and Effect. P D James takes Forster’s quote even further. She says...To that I would add: the queen died and everyone thought it was of grief until they discovered the puncture wound in her throat. That is a murder mystery and, in my view, it too is capable of high development.

Causality is a massive part of the plotting mechanism which will have a riveting effect on the plotting of your stories. Readers love to see the ‘story build up’, as events, thoughts, behaviour etc., set up in the early moments of the story, connect, build and develop the story. 

Causality is linked closely to the motivation and personality traits of the characters. As the plot unfolds causality results in a process of significant change which gives the reader regular emotional hits, until the conclusion is revealed.

A plot builds up from incidents that impact on one another. These incidents should not be a series of unrelated events. Causality will help you get a patterned, driven, tight plot that takes the reader on a journey via the motivation of the characters. Causality also helps you guard against implausibility; if the character’s motivation and conflicts are always directed by cause and effect, the writing will be far more believable. 

It is by combining causality with conflict that the strongest plot affects are gained. Conflict allows the ‘screws’ of cause and effect to tighten towards the end of the story. The reader knows all the complexities will be sorted, but they can’t for the life of them see how. A good ending will generally spring that sort of surprise; the ‘how’ of making a satisfactory and (if the author wants) happy ending, where the character has survived his ordeals, and learns and grows as a person. Using a learning/growing outcome often helps the plausibility of the story, and leads to a satisfying end, because the main character will have mostly sorted things out for himself and be responsible for most of the good outcomes. 

So, looking at Forster’s quote above, it becomes clear that story, however interesting it might be to those caught up in it, does not have sufficient structure to hold an outside observer. Bear this in mind while you are plotting. The story that surrounds the plot, that led up to it, is also the story that  that could lead away from it in any direction...floating away from the nice construction of cause and effect. Be aware and beware of that and you will keep your structures and devices tight and focused.

What are Ma Creative Writing courses really like?

When people ask me if they should undergo an MA in creative writing, I'm never sure what to say. I can certainly tell them that is was one of the most exciting years of my life, but it was also one of the most stressful. I did get some advice, by mostly this was from my peers, rather than from the lecturers, and some of it (even from lecturers) was conflicting and counter-produtive. 

"My best piece of advice was that I should write a book that I myself should want to read," said Christie Watson, who's just won the Costa Prize new writer category with Tiny Sunbirds Far Away. She gained an MA from UEA, where, shortly after it was founded 40 years ago, Ian McEwan started his career. She describes 'being immersed' in an atmosphere of writing, and I would certainly vouch for that. Everyone was brimming with enthusiasm. But, when it came to getting my writing right, my personal tutor quickly told me to ignore what he'd said if I didn't like it... "I will try to make you write the book I want to write," he admitted, and followed that by showing me his manuscript, which, straight out of Michael Douglas' character in The Wonder Boys, was dog-eared and overlong...and unpublished.

"I got very little advice," Ian McEwan says on this BBC ipod discussion from the Today Programme about Creative Writing MA's. "

People go on MA's for very different reasons, from a genuine desire to learn to writer professionally, to a chance to network their skills. I signed up because I was 'stuck' in a book and longed to finish it. I did finish it...but what I actually gained from my MA was my work as a writing tutor, and that has brought me great joy and a part-time career I love.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_9652000/9652677.stm

Happy Writing New Year

I've been working as a tutor for the Open College of the Arts for quite a few years now, but it constantly amazes me that so many people want to learn to write creatively. Maybe because writers 'do it in their heads', I used to assume I was a slightly odd person, alone in my passion. Surely no one else had a brain like mind, filled with all that writing I couldn't help but do?

But I'm not alone. I have a file filled with other people's names, all of who long to write well...some of whom already are writing well...profiles of their writing lives, and their reasons for taking OCA writing courses. When they phone me, students often start with...hope I'm not bothering you...Bother! do they realize just how much I love talking about all aspects of writing? And are they ready for the way I will rabbit on about writing?

People long to write. It's a way of letting thoughts, opinions, memories and stories pour out of our heads. A bit like Dumbledor's Pensieve...down through our arms, into our fingers and onto a screen. After I've written (a blog...a novel...) I feel so good...orgasmic, almost. I have to pull in one of those shuddering deep breaths that tell you everything is alllllright with the world. For now, at least.

This is one of the reasons I love to blog. So that I can share my love and longing for writing with other writers. As a blogging virgin, I used wondered if it wasn't it just all waffle. Then I listened (on radio 4) to the Iraqi girl who blogged her life during the war in Iraq and it was sobering and fascinating. Actually, one of my own OCA sudents has won an award for her natural history blogs. But when I surfed other people's blogs randomly...don't know quite how to put this politely... their sheer mind-blowing tedium and egocentricity gave me short-term attention span.

Blogs, in their essence, are simply the thoughts of ordinary people - this is their glory, but also their downfall. Millions of words sliding throug the ether...how do you catch the nuggets of gold among them?
I do hope - I certainly try - to make my blog interesting, informative and varied. In 2012 I promise my subscribers that's exactly what I will be continuing to do.

Happy Writing New Year

Getting into Gear - The Narrative

I've always believed that creative writing should have powerful narrative drive. Coupled with strong characterization and an eye-catching plot, it can be the major reason why a new writer stands out from the slush pile. It is the very stuff of readability.

You may start your narrative
 in familiar territory…

But 'narrative' is a confusing term - it means more than one thing and can mean different things to different people. When writers talk about their plot, or  structure, everyone knows what they're on about, but as soon as they move on to describing the narrative drive of their work, people's eyes glaze over. The only drive they feel comfortable with is the one that gets the car out of the garage and down the road.

Actually, there's a strong similarity. The word narrative might be ambiguous and confusing, but driving the plot of a story, or any other kind of creative writing along, is a pretty straightforward concept.

Perhaps the first step to feeling more comfortable with narrative is to search for a solid definition.

First from www.wikipedia.com ...A narrative is a story that is created in a constructive format (as a work of speech, writing, song, film, television, video games, photography or theatre) that describes a sequence of fictional or non-fictional events. The word derives from the Latin verb narrare, "to recount", and is related to the adjective gnarus, ‘knowing’ or ‘skilled’.The word ‘story’ may be used as a synonym of ‘narrative’, but can also be used to refer to the sequence of events described in a narrative. A narrative can also be told by a character within a larger narrative. An important part of narration is the narrative mode, the set of methods used to communicate the narrative.

Not knowing
the direction you'll take…

Hmm...hope you're clearer now! Perhaps ths, from the Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms will help...A telling of some true or fictitious event or connected sequence of events, recounted by a narrator to a  narratee. Narratives are to be distinguished from descriptions of qualities, states, or situations, and also from dramatic enactments of events. A narrative will consist of a set of events (the story) recounted in a process of narration in which the events are selected and arranged in a particular order (the plot). The category of narrative includes both the shortest accounts of events (e.g. the cat sat on the mat or a brief news item) and the longest of historical or biographical works, as well as novels, ballads, epics, short stories and other fictional forms.

A fair degree of agreement between the two sources, but for writers, the word narrative also holds a far more explicit and particular connotation. When refering to this second, more writerly sense of the word  they usually are talking about the parts of fiction that are not dialogue-ridden scenes or action-packed descriptive moments in ‘real time’.  – in other words the exposition of the story, which binds it together.

If you've been reading my Kitchen Table Writers Blog for a while, you'll probably know that I'm always encouraging new writers to 'show, don't tell', and exposition is the dangerous and difficult part of writing, because it certainly is close to 100% telling. But it's a necessary part; it's the string that holds the beads of your scenes, especially in a longer piece of work.

Narrative Trajectory

surprised…

When writing, especially when writing a longer piece of work,the comprehension and formation of the whole is assisted if you can hold that first, dictionary definition of narrative your mind as you write. Writing gets you very close to the internal workings of story; to return to my string of beads, what you are concentrating mostly on is creating beads and stringing them. That stringing process...the complete necklace...is your narrative trajectory. Over tens of thousands of words of writing, it's a terribly difficult process to keep a check on, especially if your full work has a complex plot. But doing so will create the overall picture in your mind and you'll be less likely to only see the trees and not the wood.

Narrative Drive

at the mode of conveyance…

If a ‘trajectory’ suggests a road along which a journey is taken, the word ‘drive’ might suggest the vehicle or fuel needed for that journey. Think of narrative drive in this way; it will guide your story towards being compelling and filled with natural suspense. Narrative drive is what makes a story a page-turner, and makes us care deeply about the character and wonder what will happen on the next page. Think of yourself behind the wheel of your writing - although don't take the car analogy too far; you don't have to start out, or finish in first gear, for instance! But you do have gears within your narrative drive and successful use of them is an integral part of getting it right.

Narrative Arc

…you'll take…

You may hear this phrase when reading or talking to writers...you may use it yourself!  It refers to the trajectory or journey of a narrative, suggesting that, as a story unfolds, its shape should look something like a rainbow; reaching a peak before settling towards its ending. I like to think of an arrow shot from a bow; it travels on its trajectory which is the shape of an arc. But we've already mixed enough metaphors in this Post - necklaces and cars - without adding bows and arrows! However, using the phrase narrative arc should remind you that your story must have shape.

Narrative Mode
This refers to the methods the author uses to convey their plot. Narration occurs because the writer is using the narrative mode. It encompasses several facets which multitask to create rich writing. Most important of these is narrative point-of-view, the perspective and view of the story; and narrative voice, which determines the manner through which the story is communicated to the author.

Narrative Participation
Narrators can said to be either non-participant or participant; i.e.an implied, omniscient or semi-omniscient being who does not take part in the story but only relates it to the audience, or  an actual character in the story, often the main character or protagonist; and that participation can differ in substance, concentration and form. For instance, the narrator may be a fictitious person devised by the author as in the novel Autobiography of a Geisha by Sayo Masuda.

Ane where your story will end...

Marcel Proust said ...The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes... looking at your narrative through new eyes can really help you see the complete landscape of your writing.

Plot Junkie or Characterphile?

Plot Junkies and Characterphiles

F. Scott Fitzgerald once said...Plot is character and character is plot...and I’ve always believed that to be true. I tell students that if they can create a living, breathing character, that character will show them where the story should go. But I also believe in careful plotting – in always having a flexible way forward. I think this is especially important for a novel, but it’s also the reason many writers never get to the end of most of the short stories they conceive; they may have a character, but that character has nowhere to go.

Do you control Character....

I’ve talked to so many writers on this subject, and I’ve come to the conclusion that  most of us are unevenly balanced, when it comes to character and plot.

Some writers create characters easily. Before anything else comes to their minds, a person walks into it, often fully formed. They get to know them before they start to think what their story might be...except of course, that the character is likely to tell the writer what their story is. J K Rowling famously said the Harry Potter arrived in her mind during a train journey. If he introduced himself as a boy wizard about to go to a magical school, you can see how the story might immediately start to take shape. These writers  are character-driven, allowing the character to drive the story and create the events within it, always generating events that event affect the character.  I call them Characterphiles – they can’t help but start with character.

Some writers (myself among them) start with an idea, a concept, a theme, the twist at the end of the

...before Plot?

story, or the way the design of a story within cause and effect. P G James tells us that she almost always starts a story with a setting; she sees a landscape or building that affects her. The story grows from the setting, and the character slot into it seamlessly...when they’re ready for them.  Plot-driven. Stories in which the driving force is subject matter, often encompassing a concept or theme, or locations and scenes. When the idea for a story starts like this, the characters have to be ‘fitted’ into the story, rather than steering it themselves. I call writers who cannot help but see the ideas, themes and plotlines first, plot junkies.

So although I recommend to my students that it’s best to summon up the characters first and let them build up the plot by the conflicts they create as they grow, so that the characters show the writer how the action works, this simply cannot work for plot junkies. And although I do recommend this, it’s often the reason so many stories fall into the mass grave for unfinished fiction.

There are advocates of both character and plot driven stories – published writers who allow characters to lead them where the characters want them to go, and published writers who always start with the idea, sort out the plot first, and only allow the characters a look-in once that is all settled in black and white in their notepad or file.

The ‘characterphiles’ shudder in horror at the idea of squeezing a character into a role, suggesting that readers love the people that inhabit fiction above all other things, and what they really want to know about is how those people tick – what happens to them in the story is almost secondary and mostly useful in that it illustrates and represents this particular person’s journey through their life (and through the pages). ‘Plot junkies’ would argue that the easiest way to give interesting characters sufficient ‘cause and effect’ to generate strong drama is to explore an idea first and foremost, using invented people to do so.

Good examples of this are a couple of writers of ‘crossover’ fiction (for teens and adults alike). Philip Pulman’s His Dark Materials trilogy is based on specific ideas that he wanted to explore – he does, however create extremely interesting characters to do the exploring, but critics have passed judgment on his books for being ‘idea-centric’. Sonya Hartnett, an Australia writer, on the other hand, clearly allows her characters to make up and star in their own stories, and her novels can meander in a slightly vague way because of this. Both are loved, but I’m not sure if both are loved by the same reading public.

 However, there is a ‘middle way’, especially useful for students who are still attempting to become published writers. I recommend this as a compromise. In this writing structure, the writer is simply always aware of what is happening as they commence a new story, always asking themselves…is this story plot-led? Is this story character-based? Whichever the answer to that question, it is on the other side of things that the writer focuses attention, working hard to make sure they concentrate on the weaker side in at least equal measure to the stronger.

Charles Dickens was clearly a characterphile; his characters have lived in reader’s imaginations for almost two centuries. His friend and peer, Wilkie Collins, must have been a plot junkie. After all, he almost invented crime fiction, and his plots are involved and complex, with amazing twists at the end.  Apparently, the two friends constantly helped each other’s writing; Collins suggesting better plot devices to Dickens, and Dickens helping Collins to enrich his characterization.

Do you know which you are? A plot junkie or a characterphile? Maybe you too can find a writer who is on the opposite side of the scale, so you can help each other.

Failing this, be sure to bolster the weaknesses of your tendency, while working to its strengths.

Characterphiles should put time aside to work on the plot, using whatever methods they find most useful, such as brainstorming and ‘what if’, plus index cards, ‘timelines’, and other plotting techniques (see below). They should also tap their writer’s imaginations to discover how their character can find opposition, face drama, be blighted by conflict and face up to causality.

Plot junkies should put equal time aside to really get to know their characters. This can be done by allowing the character to invade your brain, becoming more real, and by using exercises that reinforce characterization, such as character diaries, character profiles and character histories.

Once you know which sort of writer you are, you can try one of the exercises to your left.

What Writers do on Holiday

Ernest Hemmingway used to drink at the
Foreigner’s Club in Sorrento

I've just had a lovely holiday in the Bay of Naples and the al fresco dining was fantastically social; huge groups of us chatting the evening away over Lachryma Christi wine and Lemoncello liqueurs - all of us animated and affable, British tourists soaking the Italian dolce vita. But every so often, I could feel my eyes slide away from the company. My mind quickly followed. An issue we were discussing...the body language of a companion....the view of Vesuvius or the glittering sea...something falls into place like a cog and I was away...into the land of narrative dreams. 

I've noticed this about my fellow writers, too. They are often said (not always, of course) to enjoy their own company, perhaps a bit too much. But in fact, it's not their own company they are enjoying...it's the company of a myriad of characters, settings, situations and dramatic events....story...of course.

For all their concentration on inventing vibrant characters who move through convincing (if surprising) lives and react in ways that make the reader truly identify with their plights, the writers who create them do not necessarily like people all that much.

I'm not suggesting for a second that writers are all sociopaths who go through life sucking their stories from humans like vampires with a perverted desire for ink, their eyes filled with demonic delight as they manipulate real, observed events into gripping and saleable stories, but I know that I fall just a little short when it comes to a desire to stay in the moment with my friends whenever there's a danger that they may tell me something that's perfect for a plot.

'Going all dreamy' is part of the writing condition, I think. All

artists must have moment when their eyes swivel away from the day in hand and their mind goes somewhere else. Perhaps what we are visiting is our muse...and what better place for me to do that than the slopes of Sorrento, or the little square in Amalfi, or on the deliciously silent chair lift from Anacapri. 

Capri

Sorry, folks. I'll be back in a mo. Keep the wine chilled.There's a late sketch by Boz of Dickens sitting in by his fireside while, in the air around him, the characters that peopled his novels float, as they had seep from his mind while he dozes. It's a nice idea, and a fantastic sketch, and at least partially true. It is what happens in writer's minds  - especially when they are alone, but (depressingly) even when they are partying. I reckon that to some writers a holiday is not so much a chance to to see the world, meet new people, pursue a hobby, get a tan, get wasted, get laid, as much as it is a wonderful opportunity to find new story, and new characters to fill it. 

My own short story The Tomb of the Tomb Builders (shortlisted for the Derby Prize but not so far published) came out of all the lovely tour guides I met in Egypt...and a single encounter with a tiny village child. And my most recently published story The Library at Alexandria, read it here was also inspired by that holiday.

HAND-TO-DRAFT-CO-ORDINATION

How is your hand-to-draft-co-ordination? I know so many writers who believe they can only get that first draft down if holding a pen, or tapping a keyboard, or using a certain notebook, or writing in a certain place in their house. Some writers find it hard (some find it impossible, but I guess they aren’t doing much writing) to overcome the first attempts  at drafting something new. 

We all have your own hand-to-draft co-ordination, and understanding this may help make the best of our writing...so long as we fully understand that it’s only a part of the creative process and not a block that prevents us from ever attempting something new. 

One of my students, Josephine, recently wrote to me...

I firstly hand write so the process can be spontaneous.  These first attempts are always terrible but I carry on knowing that it is only for me.  Then a pause is necessary for the story to start reforming in a more understandable narrative.  Then I can draft and redraft on the computer.  Each process is different, and all absorbing.  During this time I allow myself to change my mind, while I feel it organically taking shape.  I chose many names for the two protagonists...until my choice works.

I personally find writing by hand very difficult nowadays. Clearly, my ‘hand-to-draft-co-ordination’ has a direct link from my ten touch-typing fingers to the writing part of my brain. But we’re not  all the same. I know writers who must ‘talk’ their first draft into a tape recorder and others who have to sort of ‘sketch’ out their idea, because they see it so visually at first. Film directors in the making, I suspect! But Jo likes to write by hand and that process is undeniably organic and active.

I loved the way Josephine openly confessed she thought her first attempts are ‘terrible’. I bet they aren’t as terrible as she thinks. We are usually our own worse critics, as Gustave Flaubert pointed out in Madam Bovary...The human word is like a cracked cauldron upon with we beat out melodies fit for making bears dance, when we are trying to move the stars…If even Flaubert thinks his writing isn’t up to much, I’m sure the rest of us can relax about our lack of self-confidence.

Anyway, Jo has got that covered, because she knows this first draft is ‘only for me’. What she is sure about is how to move on from ‘terrible’ to something she is pleased with. She has a routine she can move along, and that can be very helpful for any writer - it prevents us floundering around in a slough of writerly despondence. What Jo choses to do is sensible. She puts the work away for a while. This allows it to continue to brew in her head, which often picks up the underlying problems and begins to solve them, almost subconsciously. It also allows the piece to feel ‘new’...almost ‘someone else’s work’ when it is read after the resting phase. 

There is probably an equation that gives the appropriate length of time this brewing process should take. Let us say; at least a couple of days for something quite short; at least a week for a short story proper or a new novel chapter; at least a month for an entire full-length piece.  Jo uses the ‘putting away to brew’ technique quite early on in the writing process; I tend to do this much later on, say when I’m half way through a final draft of a novel...or when I’m pretty happy with the draft of the short story I’m writing at the time.

This might be the most frustrating part of Jo’s process, but it’s well worth while. And putting things away does not mean that she can’t go on writing. If she can’t manage two projects at a time, I’d recommend she writes a diary, a blog or letters to friends to keep going - or tackles something completely different, such as ‘filler’ articles for magazines or letters to the editor. This will keep her writing brain well-oiled without constantly scratching at the item that is being brewed.

Finally, Jo recognises that things must change. She looking for ways of reforming until she has ‘a more understandable narrative’. During that almost subconscious spotting and solving of problems, radical ideas might enter her head - ideas she should consider, and only dismiss when she’s sure they are wrong for the work. Changing the names of the characters can help a lot, but it should be only a small part of the things she’ll be asking. Major questions to tackle would be...does the story feel plausible all the way through? Does the beginning draw the reader in, or can I omit the first line...even the first paragraph or page? Do the characters start out with an aim/difficulty/need/blockage/desire? And if so, is it resolved well? In fact, are my characters right for this story...or is my story right for these characters? Will the reader feel satisfied with the end - surprised or engaged? 

By the time this process was over for Jo, and she’d sent her work to me, she had created a solid piece that she could be proud of.  

Have a look at your own hand-to-draft-co-ordination. Ask if it’s working for you, or if you need to change it. Sometimes two heads (or lots of heads )are better than one, and you might like to make a comment on your own early writing process below this post, and see what others come up with.

Thank you Jo, for letting me quote your letter, and I’m sure your co-ordinated writing process will constantly help you in your writer’s career.

How to Improve your Handwriting...

Nina, said my English teacher. Your handwriting is abysmal – no one can read it, even you. Your spellings seem to have arrived from the planet Urgh. And your presentation is dreadful – ink blots, scratchings out and no hint of a margin on either side your page. So I’m setting you some homework this summer holiday, and I want to see it on the first day of the new term.

First year of senior school. I was far too busy with other things to worry about the presentation of my work. Friendships, for instance, took up all my waking moments. Girls were starting and dropping friendships like they were fashion accessory items and I wasn’t getting the hang of this at all. 

Even my oldest pal from primary school had already ‘gone off’ with someone else, and I was left to choose from Denise Winters, who had goofy teeth and a strange scent emanating from her clothes, and Shirley Court, who was scarily lesbian at a time when I didn’t even know what the word lesbian meant. Then there was the gang of girls who hung about in the lane that led from School Road to Cow Horn Hill. They all snogged boys and were into tattooing themselves with needles and ink. If you cut off the corner by going down the lane, they’d stand across it, their needles at the ready.

And when I wasn’t working out how to keep friends and keep away from foes, I was dreaming, building worlds of fiction and wonder, in which the relationships that were so disastrous in reality worked out fine.

My handwriting has honestly not improved a jot

Taking home an empty exercise book for the summer holidays was hardly a punishment; it seemed a wonderful thing to do. I wanted it to be far more than a handwriting project. It would be an illustrated anthology, I decided, of all my favourite authors. 

Things quickly deteriorated on the presentation front. I’d forgotten my artistic skills were not up to illustrating anything more complex than an Easter Friday boiled egg. And I quickly forgot that the point of this exercise was to improve failing handwriting, rather than seek out excerpts from all the wonderful literature of the world. But I did have fun, that summer holiday. I started with my own bookshelves. They were rather overfull with Enid Blyton, so I chose a single story – The Island of Adventure – and wrote a ripping summary. Then I picked the bit from Anne of Green Gables where she tells her new guardians about her belief in God. Next came Alice in Wonderland and Little Women (the bit where Meg dies, of course!), followed by the lovely moment in Secret Garden, where Mary gets into the walled garden for the first time, and the bit about Mr Tumnus in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. 

Then I started rummaging through my parent’s books. Mum’s favourite was Lorna Doone; Dad’s was The Seven Pillars of Wisdom. I found that hard-going, but loved falling into Lawrence’s hot, dry world. At the library, I pulled out books on astronomy, photography, history. I also took out Lady Chatterley’s Lover on my father’s ticket; not fully understanding what the word ‘abridged’ meant. Finally, as I neared the end of the exercise book, I fell upon a book no one had ever told me about, but that I have loved ever since those early days...

She stood there staring, poised like a disturbed marsh bird for instant flight. But his voice was deep and kind when he spoke to her, ‘What is it, child?

She stood her ground, and then edged timidly forward. The thing she carried in her arms was a large white bird, and it was quite still. There were stains of blood on its whiteness and on her kirtle where she had held it to her.

The girl placed it in his arms. ‘I found it, sir. It’s hurted. Is it still alive?’

‘Yes. Yes, I think so. Come in, child, come in.’

Rhayader went inside, bearing the bird, which he placed upon a table, where it moved feebly. Curiosity overcame fear. The girl followed and found herself in a room warmed by a coal fire, shining with many coloured pictures that covered the walls, and full of a strange but pleasant smell.

The bird fluttered. With his good hand Rhayader spread one of its immense white pinions. The end was beautifully tipped with black.

The Snow Goose by Paul Gallico

This book is still on my shelves, it's dust cover slightly ripped, but the lovely line drawings still takes back to those days.

I was so proud of my book full of the golden nuggets of  literature, but I bet you won’t be surprised to hear my English teacher was not so impressed! My handwriting had deteriorated even further over the summer, as I’d discovered more and more wonderful writing and scribbled extracts into my exercise book.  In fact, my handwriting is still as bad as ever...but I’m still dipping into books and love to share my finds with other readers. Go tohttp://kitchentablewriters.blogspot.co.uk/p/the-kitchen-table-reading-club.html to see what I’ve been reading more recently...

Write What You Know?

A student wrote to me recently, saying…They do say ‘write what you know’. However, having recently read an article written by Susan Hill in a writer’s magazine, I was thrown into a bit of a turmoil. I began to question what I am writing and wondered if I should hang on to the belief of writing what I know. She said that writers should use their imagination and make things up – not write about what they know. Having thought about it in some depth, I am not sure I actually agree with her entirely. Really I am not writing about me. I am writing about a character who is loosely based on someone I know…well, someone I kind of know through someone who I know very well…Hopefully you will understand what I am trying to fathom out.

I certainly did have sympathy with Amanda – and I’m sure a lot of writers will too. Write what you know is one of the oldest pieces of advice offered to writers, but confusion does arise about this – the advice seems contradictory. Many writers create vivid pieces after researching a subject from scratch. Writers of fiction invent new worlds, or set stories in historic periods they can’t experience.  How does this fit with the notion of writing only what you know?

Jean Burnett in her study

For me, ‘writing what you know’ means drawing on your own experience, memories, knowledge and passions, then taking your imagination and powers of invention to create something entirely new.

Struggling with subjects that have no interest for you will result in work that is flat and stilted – the lack of passion will show. The very act of researching new ideas will be made easier if you can summon up a sincere interest. But no one is going to know everything (well okay, some people can retain amazing amounts of fact/memories, but they are not your average dude), so some research is always necessary.
My friend Jean Burnett has recently placed an historic novel (The Bad Miss Bennet) with Little Brown for publication next year. She knows quite a lot about Regency England, but that didn’t mean she could skimp on the research, and doing it threw up some interesting details that enriched her story. However, Jean’s passion for the period is what gave her that extra mile while writing…and you really feel you are in Brighton and London after the Napoleonic wars as you read.

‘Writing what you know’ also relates to the people you write about; your fictional characters. You can use  things you understand about your own psyche, and what you remember about your own past, as well as what life has taught you about other people, to enable you to get under the skin of almost any character, however different they are from you.  

As a children’s writer, I have often step into the shoes of characters that are nothing like me…children from other lands and cultures…children who are experiencing things I’ve never undergone.  As I write, I try to recall how I felt when I had experiences of my own that made me at least feel as they would be feeling; scared, excited, frustrated, moody, tearful. Dropping your own emotional familiarity into the character’s mind and body allows you to write with confidence on things you know little or nothing about.

Sometimes amazing, invented settings come out of what we already know. What would Middle Earth have been like if Tolkien had not witnessed the mud and slaughter of the First World War? Would Alice every have fallen down the tunnel if  Charles Dodgson hadn’t seen the private tunnel that leads from a Brighton garden down to the beach? It's sometimes a suprise, but 'writing what you know’ can lead to startlingly varied and imaginative worlds.

My advice, is don’t lose sight of what you know and what you have a passion to find out. But as you write, ask one question of yourself all the time…WHAT IF? That’s the question which turns what you know into new and exciting worlds of fiction.

screaming

Have you watched that scene in Cabaret, where Lisa Minnelli runs under a viaduct, waits for a train to roar over her head, then screeeeeeams?


First time I got a rejection slip, I wanted to do that. Sadly – no railway close enough, so I put on a DVD instead. It might even have been Cabaret; I’m a sucker for musicals when I’m down.

It felt like a surgeon had removed my stomach in an emergency gastrectomy and now he was contemplating pre-frontal lobotomy, because my head was buzzing so hard, logical thinking was impossible.

No chance of telling myself, with fingers still burning from the touch of poisoned paper, that rejection is common to every writer. Each editor’s desk is littered with submissions, even those of publications that pay badly, or not at all. Editors will – must – take what they like and send the rest back in boomerang time.

I was sure this editor had barely glanced at my manuscript before he placed it, with the horrid little rejection slip, into the SAE. And I was probably right. After all, he doesn’t have to take unsolicited work. He didn’t ask me to send it.

The movie ending was sad. I dried my tears and took a deep breath, finally ready to read the slip. Right at the bottom something was scribbled in black pen. A jotting, telling me why they’d rejected my work.

I clung to those words. They felt like a glimmer of light when you’re lost under the Mendips. I rewrote the piece, taking note of them. I did that a lot, over the next few years – the entire routine, I mean –rejection arrives in the post...watch the movie...tears...read the slip...rewrite...resubmit...

Finally, a letter arrived. A cheque fluttered out.

I drove right across town to the railway viaduct and screeeeeeeamed....

TOP TEN PLACES TO WRITE YOUR MASTERPIECE

 1. Railway carriages. Long journeys over rattling rails helps your mind to become contemplative, almost trance-like. The constant movement of the scene outside encourages your imagination to follow trajectories, invent plots , link themes , see outcomes, understand characters and visualize landscapes.


2. Bed. While you are lying there, waiting for blessed sleep to descend, you might start to daydream a little about the characters or scenes in your latest story. Don't worry if you drop off to sleep in the middle of this; you're bound to recall snippets of it later. And if you can't sleep - if your mind is buzzing with ideas - don't fight it. Keep a notepad by the bed so that all those good ideas can be jotted down. Never mind the morning grind. Matchsticks are the sign of a writer!


3. The garden shed. Obviously, I’m not suggesting you share it with the lawn mower. But if you’re
 lacking a ‘room of your own’, to quote Virginia Wolfe, a little wooden shack at the bottom of the garden might be the answer.

4. The library. The idea place. It’s out of the house, so if your major writing problens us that people insist on stopping you while you work from home, or 'drop in for coffee’ as if you're a person of leisure, then the library is an ideal office. It has Internet access, tables and chairs, and all the research facilities you'll ever need. When inspiration dries, you can wander round the shelves, noting down interesting titles, to get yourself going again.

5. The park. Fair-weather writers can find all the stories they ever need in a park. It is full of people interacting and reacting with each other. There’s the couple whose dogs fell in love before they did...the father who brings his son here on his access day...the woman who pushes her elderly aunt out in a wheelchair...what are their stories? Or rather, what are the stories you might write for them?

6. The beach. Holidays tell great tales. Toss the sunblock to oneside, prop up the deck chair and spill the beans onto paper.


7. The local cafe. Take a tip from JKR and finish your novel over a cold latte. It may end up a bit stained and damp, but you will be in exhulted company. Which leads us to...

8. Under the stairs...or any bit of dwelling place you can cleverly transform into an office space. Once you are thinking of  this area as 'office space', you will have somewhere where all your things can be stored together (rather than scattered around the place) and where, as soon as you sit to write, a little 'tap' gets turned on in the writing part of your brain, as it thinks...ah, here I am, in the place where words spill effortlessly from my pen...

9. In front the telly. I am not joking - I spent the whole of one writing year writing in on an easy chair, my laptop (suitably) positioned on my lap. It was the only option, so I took it. I was able to 'switch off' from whatever antique was being sold at a boot sale, but there are always ear plugs to help this along. The downside to this option is your seating position; it's not good for your back to balance a laptop on your knees. I did end up seeing an osteopath! But I got of lot of writing done. So if your only writing opportunity and location is while everyone else is wrapped up in Eastenders, get out the earplugs.


10. The kitchen table...of course! Hands up if you eat regularly at your dining table. Hands up again if it's actaully covered in stuff that really ought to be put away. How about storing your writing equipment in a nice strong box, a little larger than A4 size, and leaving it in a corner of the table? Then when you need to write, you take the box off the table, take out the necessary and use the newly-gained space to write on. And if it really is in the kitchen, you won't have to move far to make a coffee.