Since I have decided I prefer having a regular working routine and respecting it more often, I have found that I love my characters more and respect them more carefully. Somehow, they are also happier being with me, and more expansive, which helps greatly when it comes to writing what they want to tell me: their motivations and ideas have become clearer and more determined, since I no longer cram them into the rest of my life like a guilty secret.
I once got a reply from an agent – I was grateful: he sent me back my letter of enquiry with some comments, and any feedback is valuable – saying that I had too many points of view. I beg to differ, since I don’t have a universal narrator who tells the story over the heads of the characters like some benign grandpa.
I prefer to allow all the characters to speak for themselves. Rather like a room full of people having a good old discussion, my characters all want to have their say, and I cannot simply separate them out into ‘one at a time, please!’ as if I were a school mistress and they were unruly pupils. That is not how I really write best.
My writing attempts to mirror life at some level of reality, which includes catering for several points of view, since that is how people in a group usually expect to be heard: Life is not a debating society with rigid rules of engagement, and I do hope that if my writing is clear enough, there is no need to worry that my readers will be confused.
Some days – not as often as I thought – I find I need total silence to write. Other times, listening while I write, a tune or dissonance simply catches my mood and lifts it amazingly so that I can write, and focus easily, see the gaps and the errors I need to address in whatever I’m working on.
Such a relief.
While I love silence, I also relish the feeling that I can connect through the varied emotional streams offered in music, classical and pop, county, jazz, and which somehow give me the strength when I need it, to work in a particular way.
Call it riding the wave, borrowing a vibe, I don’t really know how it works, and I hardly care, as long as I make progress.
It takes lots of different ideas working together, to make an outcome that satisfies. Who knows what music – or silence – will help to turn ideas into our new reality? Even if most of the emotion that music or silence engenders is faked, false, someone else’s, I’m not worried, because at the very least, that emotional input helps me to make something and take it forward.
My sixth book, which happens to be the third in my Lisa Somerville trio of novels about a lawyer and her clients – of which I have had the first chapter written for a couple of years, now – is becoming, as I think about it, less of a future prospect and more of a current reality. I will be writing it soon.
The thought of changing gear and starting on my third book of fiction brings mixed feelings: excitement, the thrill of what I might discover, together with the realisation that increasingly, my books are tangible reality. With my sixth book underway, I can increasingly see the end, as well as the beginning of my bookish endeavours: two books published and a third (Making Miracles) expected in June 2018, as well as two books in the Lisa Somerville series nearing completion. Who knows how much more I will write?
So far as I can tell at the moment, Lisa Somerville is complete and as clean as I can make it, though the prospect of massive re-writes is always a possibility; The Seduction of Susan Scott has about sixty thousand words under its belt, and is shaping up; and so, I have little excuse to prevaricate with book three.
Pip is the story of a wife with an abusive husband, who decides one afternoon to leave home so that she can protect her infant son. She is not really thinking about herself, but has decided that her son deserves better. Initially I had thought that she would disappear into the sunset with just her handbag and her coat on, clutching little Pip by the hand; but something urges me to turn Fiona homeward, at least in the first instance. As a wife, she feels that she should really give her husband another chance; in any case, she is unprepared for her exodus, needs to pack a suitcase and make plans. But her decision to give her husband another benefit of the doubt has tragic consequences.
Many works of fiction feature one partner in a relationship escaping, fleeing, starting again. Escape and rebirth is one of our urban fantasies writ large… What if I could get away from all this…? But Fiona returns to the house and finds her husband back home early; and in what happens next is the tragedy of so many people who try too hard to be true to others, and forget to be true to themselves.
I’m going to assume, for the purposes of this post, that writer’s block exists, and that there are those of us writers who simply find it impossible – or have found it impossible – to write.
For anyone for whom the soothing routines of writing seem like a distant dream, I can offer a few ideas that might help to remove writer’s block.
~ If we are tired, let us rest, without judgement about our failure today, to write our usual four thousand words. “But I always manage three thousand words a day,” is a most unhelpful stick to beat ourselves up with. It’s never about the word count. One good sentence, or paragraph fix is worth more than all our good intentions, or angst over our failed targets.
~ I sense that somewhere in among the complex reasons why we writers get blocked, is the notion that we should be writing, because we always do, or because someone or other expects us to. Maybe we are bored, isolated, in need of a change and fresh air. Nothing wrong with that. So let’s take time off when we need it, to smell the coffee and meet other people. If that feels wrong, call it research.
~ I call the purely creative stage of writing, Stage One; and I suspect that writer’s block is our reaction to judgement and expectations about our writing at the wrong time. We reflect and judge Stage One writing, when all we are doing, at that stage, is tipping our words – any words! – onto the page. Writer’s block surfaces when we start editing or censoring our creative outpourings, instead of simply allowing them release. Of course there will be all kinds of things to change, to modify; but at Stage One, writing simply has to flow and leap and dance, a process in which our intellects have little place, and cannot comment on. Compare and contrast, reflect and refine all come later.
~ Worse still, writer’s block – the refusal to co-operate with what we think we expect – surfaces when we write for the critics, those in our heads, and those pestering us with phone-calls and deadlines. We write what other people want us to write, instead of accepting that our styles change, our preferences evolve, as with any living, creative aspect of ourselves.
~ It seems unfair to blame an inability to write on our career as a writer. Our inability to summon a single sentence or paragraph may have nothing whatever to do with our writing ability, and may be due to outside factor(s) such as worry about money, caring for a suddenly sick friend or relative, being tired all the time, needing to eat more fruit and veg. So, instead of saying, “I have writer’s block at the moment, it’s simply awful,” consider that there are many factors that go into a blank page, and resist the urge to condemn oneself for apparent weakness. Instead, focus on feeling better and do what it takes to bring the joy back into life; joy which, in whatever form, is what spews on the page when we are in Stage One writing.
Is writing more important, or is editing the crux of the matter?
Clearly, editing is writing, but, semantics aside, I’m wondering whether the creative aspects of producing a longer work of fiction are more important than the nuts and bolts of getting the syntax and grammar correct?
These two aspects of writing seem to me to be equally important. There is little point having creative flights of fancy if the editor’s imperative is forced to lie idle – a work of 200,000 words is probably going to need pruning; and, as many authors have reminded us, we have to have the courage to edit even those passages that we delight in, if they have no place in keeping the story alive.
Being at the editing stage, I suspect that judicious read-throughs are vital to what becomes a finished article. And, what is more, editing allows us to look beyond a mere word count and bring to light new angles that might otherwise be lost under the weight of our creative obscurantism. Judicious editing is creativity’s best friend. Bosom buddy, indispensable side-kick, major domo, maitre d’. Without editing, even my most brilliant moments would be languishing…
So that’s that, then. Sorted… except that, without the creative impulse, no-one would be mad enough to spend years of their life writing something longer than a shopping list without some hope of validation, would they??
I’m interested to see how my writing techniques and beliefs have evolved. I anguish less over blog posts, enjoy experimenting with different ways of recording and researching information, and I enjoy, far more than I used to, the pressure of the everyday, which seems to galvanise me, catapulting me, where previously, with whole long days at my disposal, writing tended to be – but was not always – a bit hit and miss.
Here are my current best tips for writing consistently and enjoyably.
~ Having a lot of other things to do does not mean we can’t write. It can simply mean that we refuse to be beaten. If I have a deadline, say, and suddenly a million things come to get in the way of reaching that, I simply have to evolve new ways of working: Getting up earlier in the morning, turning off the phone, deciding that I deserve to take my work more seriously. That I don’t get paid much or often has nothing to do with my sense of discipline or purpose. Perhaps taking writing more seriously, I can begin to envision being paid seriously too.
~ I used to believe that the artistic, writing muse did not relish being summoned regularly every day. As a result, my work was not often timetabled, and my writing time was subject to the whims and changes of anything that got in the way (which was more or less everything). Now, I’m happy to say, I see that having a regular writing habit – or at least an attitude that values work time and refuses to compromise it for anything – allows my writing muse to come out and play regularly too. As those who know me will know, I tend to the view that I am not the instigator, more the facilitator of my writing. Knowing I shall usually be available between 2.30 and 5.30 every weekday afternoon, my writing muse appears more consistently and easily, with a relaxed vibe, rather than one which suspects that my current visit to the writing shore will be brief and likely to be cut off at a moment’s notice; an attitude which rarely results in the best work…
~ I set a work time, a regular work time in my diary. I respect that division, and treat it as I would any other office commitment. As hubby reminded me, those of us who work for ourselves have no-one to help us set our priorities or to say, “I need this from you by the end of the week.” So it’s up to us to set the rules, and to say, when someone asks us to come to the garden centre on an inconvenient workday afternoon – “No, sorry, I’d love to, but I’m busy at that time.”
No doubt my ideas will continue evolving, but these ideas are helping me at the moment.
I enjoy reading Jane Austen, one of the classical writers who has retained her popularity. I’m also fond of the Bronte sisters, many of whose books I read in my youth. Recently on Radio Three I heard an interviewee extolling the virtues of Dickens – whom my mum likes too – so he may be next on my reading list.
Having watched many movies and clips on Youtube, clips of ‘Emma’ and ‘Persuasion’ and ‘Sense and Sensibility’ I had to admit that, for an author who professes to like Austen, until now my actual perusal of her volumes has been sorely scanty.
Thus acknowledging, I resolved to end my ignorance forthwith, and purchased by various means the several volumes which I had not yet read, among which the foresaid ‘Emma’, ‘Persuasion’ and ‘Sense and Sensibility’ to see if the reading thereof could be in any way compared to the watching. And indeed, I find my reading to be most rewarding, notwithstanding the two centuries’ passage since these volumes were first published. Though I am as much a sucker for a handsome man as anyone may be, yet I find that my understanding of the films and series that grow out of these volumes immesurably improved by reading the original books. Quite apart from the satisfaction in being able to plug a very obvious hole in my reading, some passages I rejoice to be able to quote verbatim from having watched the films so extensively.
And though Austen’s books were published c 1812, they have, baring a certain contemporaneous verbosity, retained a remarkable freshness and humour. No wonder she is still so widely read, and deservedly so.
Lots of those we call great authors – okay, almost all the authors I know or have read about – suffer from an insecurity, a question they ask themselves all the time: Is my work any good? Have they done themselves and their characters justice, this time? Such is the unbearable insecurity of writers that even famous and very successful authors suffer from angst and mental health problems.
And to the general public who read books, or who simply watch the show from the side-lines, the answer is – of someone like Stephen King or Marian Keyes or Lee Child – “Of course they are good enough. They sell millions of books. What more do they expect? Perfection?”
Writerly insecurity looks a bit like – and is often mistaken for – an ego needing a good massage, but, I believe the reason for the endless quest for reassurance is more subtle.
When we first set pen to paper – okay, when we sit in front of our PCs with a new file open – we have the whole field of possibility open to us, rather like a child’s first day at primary school. We can write literally anything; excuse the pun. But as a story takes shape and the characters show us where to go, as words and plots are tied down, increasingly there arises the question, is this where I am meant to take this story? What if there is a much better line to follow out there, that I have missed? What if all I have written is but a poor reflection of what I should be writing?
And to that, I can offer only the age-old adages that, “What’s for you won’t go by you..” or “If it’s meant to happen, it will,” or “All things work out for the best…” which may be scant comfort, a bit too much like the superstitions that our forebears relied on, but what else can we do? There is no way to know definitively whether what we have is the best finished article we can make; and, we can always console ourselves that a finished book – or even a half-finished book – is probably better than no book at all.
I read the first book in this series, ‘Forfeit’, about the adventures of Daisy and Zander, loving it entirely, so much so, that several years later, ‘Forfeit’ is still on the main page of my kindle. Why did it take me so long to get a copy of ‘Nearly Almost Somebody‘? Perhaps I was rationing myself.
Whatever I think of the characters in this series – all beautiful, interesting and apparently irresistible to the opposite sex…I’m so, like, totally jealous – the writing, detailed plotting and characterisations show a level of ability that I can only aspire to.
Such talent as Caroline Batten possesses, to write entertainingly, excitingly and with real verve and colour, is somehow unusual. Ms Batten writes a thriller which is genuinely scary, a love story that carries real poignancy, and a human interest story that makes me feel as if the characters live just in the next village and I might see them, and allow some of their glow to rub off on me.
I really, really want to read more from the pen of Ms Batten, and I do hope that she is writing lots more books. If she does not already have a fab agent and a brilliant publisher who can take her to the stratosphere of fame and fortune – which she may not want, but which she richly deserves – I suggest that she should be next on any commissioning editor’s wish list. She has a huge platform, major success on watpad and would be a sound investment and a huge talent for any publisher to support.
In the series of novels I am writing, there are character and plot overlaps among the three books. Each book has its own cast of characters, all of whom are important in their own way, and each book has overlaps with the others, particularly books 1 and 2.
For a long time, I was worried about that – how can I write each story convincingly, not forgetting the details of what went before? How to manage without being repetitive or predictable? I’m not sure I can stay two steps ahead of my readers, but I might like to aim for one, though I’ve not been quite sure how to do that, when each book rather anticipates the next…
Though internal consistency in plotting is a must, it turns out that I need not have been so worried. Each of my books has a different feel from its neighbour, and the two main characters whose lives intersect have, it turns out, very different ways of seeing the world, of dealing with its challenges. Each character has very different priorities. So, conversations that Lisa the lawyer might recall with exact clarity, are turning out to be a fuzzy nightmare to Susan, her client – which is good. I can hardly hope to make my books interesting if I find myself forced to replicate long sections of dialogue.
It turns out, Susan is, in some ways, so out of her depth that the last thing she cares about is the details of conversations. My characters turn out to be so different, that even when their lives intersect, they do not remember the same things, or the same events in the same way.
It is a solution I could never have dreamed up; yet it seems to answer most of my questions, and frees me to write more fully in character. It does seem, with these books, that my role is to trust, and allow the stories to unfold while I take dictation and allow the plot to speak to me, as it were. I am sure we often find that when we relax and allow ourselves to be open to new discoveries like this, they come to us from all over the place.
August 19, 2018
I love my characters more
Fran Macilvey The Rights & Wrongs of Writing, Women's fiction and chic lit 4 Comments
I love my characters more
Since I have decided I prefer having a regular working routine and respecting it more often, I have found that I love my characters more and respect them more carefully. Somehow, they are also happier being with me, and more expansive, which helps greatly when it comes to writing what they want to tell me: their motivations and ideas have become clearer and more determined, since I no longer cram them into the rest of my life like a guilty secret.
I once got a reply from an agent – I was grateful: he sent me back my letter of enquiry with some comments, and any feedback is valuable – saying that I had too many points of view. I beg to differ, since I don’t have a universal narrator who tells the story over the heads of the characters like some benign grandpa.
I prefer to allow all the characters to speak for themselves. Rather like a room full of people having a good old discussion, my characters all want to have their say, and I cannot simply separate them out into ‘one at a time, please!’ as if I were a school mistress and they were unruly pupils. That is not how I really write best.
My writing attempts to mirror life at some level of reality, which includes catering for several points of view, since that is how people in a group usually expect to be heard: Life is not a debating society with rigid rules of engagement, and I do hope that if my writing is clear enough, there is no need to worry that my readers will be confused.
Thanks for reading.
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