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Method

Sunday, October 31st, 2010

People who are interested in knowing a bit about the thinking that goes into planning a novel might want to read the post I wrote during the summer here, as well as the comments. This post is a kind of reply or sequel to that post.

Thinking more about NaNoWriMo. The very reasonable comment from Paul that slapping down a load of words is more stunt than craft. Me being determined to be more thoughtful. To make decisions, to be less trial and error about it all. To make lists and chapter plans. And then finding I am paralysed and might need the stunt of an arbitrary word count to get the engine turning over.

I do have a plan. And I am anticipating the problems. Here they are:

Writing more autobiographically than I have done before – none of the characters are me or anyone I know, but two or three of the scenes come from my life, and I’m writing about a topic very close to my own upbringing. There are worries associated with this. And it triggers interesting thoughts. How even-handed do I have to be? What are my motivations? People who want to find things out about any topic won’t turn to a novel for it, so factual accuracy is less of a priority than authenticity. Authentic is really, really difficult. Especially as most of the time I’m unsure of my own opinions about anything. Hence, I think, the narrative vehicle of lots of narrators.

Five first person narrators. Possibly six. Each of them very different. Wanting to capture their voices. Wondering if I am up to the job. Wondering if this kind of ventriloquism is a cheap trick (Martin Amis mentioned something like this in his Paris Review Interview and reading it stung me a little). It feels (impersonation, inventing narrators, first persons) like it’s something worthwhile to do for me because it involves me forcing myself to grow empathy and understanding for points of view I don’t agree with. Very difficult.

That is where I am up to so far. I am looking forward to giving myself the room to bang out a short first draft and see what it looks like at the end of November. Posting might be erratic during the next four weeks.

Posted in anxiety, doubt, the beginning, writing frenzy, writing method | 4 Comments »

NaNoWriMo

Thursday, October 28th, 2010

Progress on novel 3 goes slowly, combined with checking the proofs of Cold Light and planning a series of poetry workshops. And I’ve been reading! Joyce Carol Oates: My Sister, My Love (so far I am kind of agreeing with the New York Times review of it, but I’m persevering) and Sarah Hymas: Host and Emma Donoghue: The Room.

I think my problem with novel 3 is that I’ve been editing Cold Light at the same time as trying to write it. It’s too easy to look at my polished, finished Cold Light pages and all the other good books I’ve been reading and expect that my first couple of chapters of Number Three should look like that too. It is also easy to forget the three years and countless drafts, deletions, additions, rephrases, temper tantrums, weeks off and informed advice from two editors and my writing group. Of course Cold Light is better.

I’ve been going slow because I’ve been trying to write final draft, first time. I know this is a problem for lots of writers. Perfectionism is okay but not for first drafts. It’s something I try to address in all of my workshops – setting timed writing exercises, telling the participants it is okay to write rubbish, it’s only fifteen minutes, the important thing is to get the page dirty and we can sort out the mess later. That’s not the way to write a perfect poem, or story, or novel, or a perfect anything at all. But it is one of the perfect ways to make a start. To get over yourself and get on with it.

Which is one way of justifying me signing up for NaNoWriMo this year. November. 50,000 words. I am not so concerned about getting 50,000 words down and I know, with mothering being the way it is at the moment, it might not be possible for me. But I want to devote November to getting down as much of a first draft as I have.

I know lots of proper writers get sniffy about NaNoWriMo. ‘That’s not the way to write a real novel.’ Well no, it isn’t. The proper way to write a novel is to get the page dirty, give yourself thousands of words, and then edit them until your eyes bleed. One of my main tasks as a teacher is to convince new writers that first drafts aren’t writing: editing is writing. I know this. But my fast-typing muscles need a kick up the bum. Perhaps NaNoWriMo during November is just what’s needed.

For the daily dose of plugs,you could check out a really nice review of A Kind of Intimacy over at A Work in Progress. For a double dose, Jess Haigh has included it as one of her three favourite Scary Books at For Books’ Sake.

I have also been updating my links. I meant to import my best links from my old blogger blog over here but it didn’t work as well as I’d hoped and it’s taken me this long to sort it out. Click through to have a look at what I’m reading blog-wise these days. Recommendations are always welcome.

Posted in brown cardigan, writing frenzy, writing method | 8 Comments »

I Make Stuff Up

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010

I’ve had a week of furious typing, post-its, scribbling in pencil and… filling in forms. With the arrival of a new person into the world comes a whole host of forms needed to prove the poor blighter’s existence to the government / NHS / my landlord. He doesn’t even have a real pair of shoes yet (we have been remiss in this, but I’ve a novel to finish and in this house if you don’t walk, you don’t get shoes) and yet we’ve had to jump through all kinds of hoops to get him a birth certificate, registered with a doctor, alert the fine people at HMRC to his existence and justify my own continuing existence to a health visitor. All activities that are accompanied by forms, questions and questionnaires.

I’m a grumpy get at the best of times (you hadn’t noticed?) but PLEASE, when I’m working to a deadline, on much less sleep than I’d like and have a bit of a 1000 piece Disney jigsaw puzzle stuck to my hair with vomited breast-milk (he’s been easy on the crap, this past few days) DON’T look at me like I’m a deluded, sorry fantasist in need of intervention when you ask me what I do for a living for your bloody FORM and I answer honestly. Think of how many books there are in the world. Someone’s got to write them, haven’t they?

My favourite quiz of the week is the one they use to check if you’re depressed or not. Tick boxes. Do you feel like harming yourself and / or others a) never b) sometimes c) on a near constant basis. I answer C, and clarify that this isn’t a post-partum thing, but is how I always feel, especially when asked invasive questions by someone I’ve never met before who invited themselves around to my house and sneered at me when I told them what I do for a living, (really? That’s nice. And what did you do for a job?.) then followed it up by asking me what my husband thought of it… (very little, I should imagine).

I’m not going to tell these people I’m a writer any more. I’m going to say I’m a detective, a spy, a magician. I’m a consultant escapologist. I’m a private eye. I’m Columbo’s wife. I’m Mrs Hudson, Sherlock Holmes’ landlady. I’m Harriet the Spy. I’m a cross between Nancy Drew and Nana Mouskouri. I make stuff up. I type very fast in two hour bursts, sometimes at night, sometimes holding the baby, sometimes while eating breakfast.

Here’s an ambivalent review of A Kind of Intimacy from L-Magazine, ‘New York City’s Local Event and Arts And Culture Guide.’

Posted in anxiety, blue, busy, misanthropy, mothering, multi-tasking, tense, terrible, writing frenzy, yoda knocked me back | 2 Comments »

Heckled by Guinea Pigs

Monday, September 28th, 2009

September was a fairly quiet month – working mainly on the novel with the help of my mentor who has BROKEN my addiction to twitter and Facebook, and all for the good of the work as the pace is cracking along nicely now.

This month’s session involved drawing a really big graph with highlighter pens and mapping the arcs of the two main stories in the novel. The ‘across’ axis was time – and that was easy enough. This novel has two quite well defined time-scales – six weeks in 1998 and one night in 2008.The ‘upwards’ axis was ‘drama’ or ‘excitingness’. I’ve read about these kind of tasks in creative writing books before, and always been a bit dubious about them – but when in the midst of editing and mired in choosing exactly the right word, getting a visual grasp of the bigger picture really helped.

The only problem is that I still need to find some kind of quantitative measure for the upwards axis. What do we measure dramatic interest in? I’ve called it ‘good antics’ but I want to find something better before my next appointment. I think that’s called procrastinating.


My only trip out was to the village of Waverton, in Cheshire. I’ve done lots of readings now, but this was a special one and is probably going to turn out to be one of my favourites. Several years ago, Gwen and Wendy in Waverton decided to get all the bookworms in their village together to read lots and lots of debut novels, decide which one was best, and give it a prize. They meet up several times during the course of the pre-prize reading to discuss the books – and sometimes they’re kind enough to invite these debut novelists along to plug their work.

The reading itself went well – disturbed only my some very rude heckling from a pair of guinea-pigs that shared the school assembly hall with us. I don’t think they liked Annie much, but after they were wheeled away to the peace and quiet of a darkened classroom, we got onto the questions and I had a lively discussion with the audience about Annie, my writing process, unreliable narrators, fitting writing in with mothering, creative writing courses, teaching and blogging.


The list of books the Waverton readers will be working through this year is very long – sixty-three novels were eligible for the prize, and arrived in crates and boxes and bags for the audience to look at and pick out what they fancied to read and report on for the next meeting. Previous winners of the Waverton Good Read award include Jonathan Trigell and Mark Haddon – here’s hoping Annie will take their fancy.

So September was fairly quiet, and October is going to be frantic. I need to finish this draft of the novel, do a heap of festivals (you can read a bit about Lancaster Litfest from Sarah Hymas by clicking here – she seemed to like Annie a bit more than those guinea pigs did) keep up with the freelance work and be nurturing and motherly towards Small Fry and Him Indoors, who have both started new terms this month and are bound to come down with Fresher’s / Reception Flu at some point over the next couple of weeks.

It’s all going to be packed in extra tight because I have only three weeks to work in October. On the 24th, I’m off on my holidays to Whitby (what is it with me and sea-side towns?) and while I’m there

I’ll be getting married… and I don’t even have any shoes yet.

Posted in busy, guinea pigs, happy, writing frenzy, writing method | No Comments »

Hard At It

Tuesday, August 18th, 2009

I had a day off yesterday – because it was my birthday! Top Banana!

I spent most of the day playing Supermarkets with the Small Fry, and a fairly large portion of it in a bubble bath with a new book. It’s nice to be able to take the odd Monday off, but I’ll be paying for it on Sunday.

One of the treats I gave myself for my birthday was to turn the computer and telephone off for a full twenty-four hours. I highly recommend it. Although what a nice surprise it was to come back and find this nice review of A Kind of Intimacy on the It’s a Crime! blog and the fact that the Annie-book has garnered more than a vote from my mum on the Guardian’s Not the Booker Prize voting. The voting is open for another few days, and with 46 books on the list there is bound to be something that takes your fancy.

But no more blogging. The first session with the mentor went excellently well – we talked about managing time, and how to approach a task as unwieldy as finishing a novel. I have a feeling being mentored is going to be good for me. I now have a list of tasks booked into my diary all to do with getting Cold Light neat and tidy. And one of these appointments starts now, with the final editing of a scene I’ve been avoiding for ages because I am lazy, and it looks like its going to be a tricky one. I’ll let you know how I get on.

Posted in happy, middle, narcissus, writing frenzy | No Comments »

House-Bound

Sunday, August 9th, 2009

Tomorrow I start the second week of being a Proper Writer. I still keep eyeing the iron and having to remind myself that there’s no need for the Sunday night blues any more.

In the past, when I’ve been asked if I’d like to give up my job and write full time, I’ve always said no, of course not – what would I have to write about?

My computer? My keyboard? My waste-paper basket full of orange peel, wet tea-bags, screwed up bits of note-paper and a pair of socks that even I, tight-arse of the year, could see had worn out long past darning?

And what about being lonely? And what about getting fat and lazy and spending the afternoons asleep, or watching Kim and Aggie on You Tube, or spying on the neighbours, or hoovering the cat-hair from the stair carpet?

And what about never having any money and starving to death and taking the Small Fry, who wants me to buy her a set of ballet lessons and a pony, with me? Starving? To death? To death! To actual, death. By starvation.

Deep breaths now. One at a time. That’s better.

And actually, I am doing okay. I am not bored. I am not lonely. It is not that different. I am doing during the day what I used to do long into the night. I get to wear jeans and odd socks. I don’t need to brush my hair if I don’t feel like it, and I rarely feel like it. I can be flexible about the hours I work. I can spend more time with the Small Fry in the evenings. I have not run out of ideas. If I start starving (to death!) I can get a job. I am still a librarian. I have skills.

This month has been a quiet month, events wise – and that, I think, has helped. Apart from the Edinburgh Festival later in August (with the lovely Ray Robinson) and a mentoring session, and a few extra meetings relating to the freelance projects I’ve taken on, there isn’t any signing and chatting about Annie and reading bits out of a book that is now three years in my past and nothing like what I’d write now.

August is turning out to be a good time to think about things, to come back to being the kind of person who wants to write about a woman remembering a teenage girl who did something that was worse than she realised at the time, and find out about Morecambe Bay, and drowning, and bio luminescence.

I think I was probably a proper writer before. Maybe everyone does it in bed, eating oranges and spitting the pips at the skirting boards by the side of the chest of drawers.

It’s ten points for a direct hit, you know.

Posted in anxiety, brown cardigan, happy, solitude, writing frenzy, writing method | No Comments »

3 for 2

Sunday, March 1st, 2009


Now look at this. It isn’t supposed to be out yet! Jane told me Southport Waterstone’s have been very quick off the mark. And Chris, Sian and Socrates have just cleaned out Derby Waterstone’s.

So I suppose it’s ‘out’ now. If you aren’t sure which three books to buy for your three for two offer, just do what Jane did.

Hooray.

Prize winners announced tomorrow.

Posted in anxiety, embarrassed, narcissus, procrastination, vanity, writing frenzy | No Comments »

A List of Things On My Bed

Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008

Emma just wrote a blog post about her writing place and her crisp white bedsheets. I’ve got white bedsheets too. I want them to be crisp and inspirational, but mainly they are not. I wrote a little bit about them a while ago in this story. I haven’t written a true facts story about my bedsheets or anything else for a while.

Here is a list. The list is of the number of things that are on my bed right now.

1. Four pillows
2. One duvet.
3. One red and orange sock.
4. My work bag
5. The belt and the chain and the emergency silver whistle and the big jailer’s key ring and tally I use for work.
6. Two very small black shiny shoes with silver buckles.
7. A tiny white computer I am not typing on now but might do later.
8. A bit of see-through cellophane. I think it used to be around a packet of biros, but I can’t be sure.
9. A pink hi-lighter.
10. A pink etch-a-sketch.
11. A miniature plastic dolls house in the shape of a toadstool.
12. A white underthing (small fry calls it ‘booby vest’)
13. A bent Kirby grip.
14. A (frankly, quite disappointing) wage slip.

Later, when I go to bed, I will get in and wave the duvet about a bit and kick my legs about until all these things are in a place where I am not. I will sleep surrounded by them all. If I thrash about too much in the night I might knock the miniature dolls house and open it by mistake and set the music off. This will make me angry.

Tonight I am writing about cremated remains (if they aren’t called cremains, they should be) and someone wanting to chain herself to a tentacle, and yellow all purpose cleaner and a bad, bad girl called Chloe who I am not sorry for at all. Not At All!

Also, I am about to find out exactly why salt melts ice, and if other sprinkled things could melt ice, like cremains. Could cremains melt ice? Even just a tiny bit? I need to know. Also, why does the sea make icebergs when salt melts ice and there is salt in sea water?

Posted in Cold Light, ideas, lies, lists, novel, Underground Cave of Fish, writing frenzy | No Comments »

Frenzy

Thursday, May 8th, 2008

I am nearly nearly nearly nearly done with my first draft.

I am very excited. Starting is not the hardest bit. I start lots of things. Two or three days after I start is the hardest thing. I have thought of something else to start. I have to do something else like washing up or ironing trousers. I read what I have done so far back to myself and feel discouraged.

That’s the hardest thing. When I get over that hardest thing part completely I will be a writing genius. I decided to take myself in hand while feeling the hardest thing and think some positive thoughts.

Here are some of them.

1. You stood on a bull-dog clip once in your bare feet and it really, really hurt, and that was worse than this.
2. It is all right to pack it in if you really hate it. It won’t make a difference to the world. But you might feel bad.
3. This is better than the hot air balloon one.
4. You like doing this really, it is just the hardest bit, and after a bit you will be on the middle bit and that bit is a better bit.
5. You have done childbirth and labour. There can be no complaining after that.
6. You are a real person and should get on with this.
7. You do want to know how this ends, don’t you?

Then I got onto the middle. The middle is quite a hard bit too. You think, this is not how I planned it. And I have come too far to stop now but there is still quite a long way to go. And this is stupid I could be sleeping or watching telly or ironing trousers instead. You say, aha! I will not be a novelist anymore, I will be something else. I will refuse to do this terrible thing. Then you sober up and get yourself together and feel a bit ridiculous for complaining about something that no-one actually asked you to do anyway.

Then you get onto the nearly there bit. This is another good bit. You have lots of ideas for improvements for the second draft. You write those kinds of ideas down in a blue notebook with a picture of a fish on the front of it, and carry on anyway. You know when you read it back it is going to be disappointing and still need a lot of work. Like seven more drafts, if the last one is anything to go by. You click word count and feel pleased. You double space it and you do a spell check. You are nearly there!
You think fast and type fast and feel like a million trillions.

I have to think of a present that I will give myself when I finish the first draft. Because then I am going to take a week off and think about something else and look over my notes for improvements the second time round and read some good books. This treat should be quite a good treat, but not an excellent treat. The excellent treat is for when the last draft is done.

Posted in Cold Light, lists, middle, novel, the beginning, Underground Cave of Fish, writing frenzy, writing method | No Comments »

!!

Monday, April 28th, 2008

I am very excited. I am working on something top secret (clues in the tags). The top secret thing will probably be available for your public viewing on Friday. It is going to be good. It is a story which will be free to read. And not just me writing it. And submissions too.

My lips are sealed until then.

This is me Drumming Up Interest. If you wanted to Register Interest you should post in the comments. Then when Friday comes I can spam you with plugs upon plugs.

Being spammed with plugs is less painful than it sounds.

Posted in ideas, library, plug, stories, writing frenzy, yoda doesn't know what he's talking about | No Comments »

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