Losing the plot

As in all good quest narratives I have faced a few challenges this week, narrowly avoided catastrophe and been given a little help along the way. Despite my high expectations derived from tales such as The Chronicles of Narnia and The Wizard of Oz there wasn’t a mysterious lady in a lake handing out a sword of power or a genie lurking in a lamp just waiting to grant my wishes. Which is a shame really because it would have made things simpler and probably a lot more fun. This week I just couldn’t figure out how to get to the ending I had planned for my story. Having sat staring at the page for over an hour I realised I was well and truly stuck. Was it because my idea was rubbish I wondered? Should I scrap it and move on? No, that isn’t the problem because I really believe in this story. The issue here was simple. I had lost my plot.

However, I have skipped forwards here so let’s return to the beginning. I am aiming to write a collection of short stories which are all thematically linked and I am calling this Project Copper. I don’t know what I want to do with these in the future so I am trying not to share too much detail and am just going to refer to them by the working title. I have a notebook full of ideas and characters for this collection that I use to help me when I sit down to write. For this particular story I have the key narrative elements such as the beginning and the character arc outlined but I hadn’t sat down and really thought about the events would take me there. Sounds like a pretty basic thing to miss doesn’t it? Perhaps even a little ironic for someone who taught young people to plan out their creative writing for a living? Well it is… and it isn’t. There are as many ways to write as there are writers.

For a long and complex piece of writing such as a novel where there are a cast of characters, multiple points of view and events all being drawn together into the narrative then many people have very detailed plans. This keeps track of all the moving pieces and helps the writer stay focused. As with everything in life there are those who prefer to just let it all flow on to the page and grow organically. These two ends of the spectrum are often referred to as planners and pantsers (as in flying by the seat of their pants). I oscillate between these two approaches depending on what I am writing, how much head space I have and what mood I am in. So having failed to plan I was now paying the price and needed to figure it out.

My first strategy was to write the final line of the story* and try to plot my way backwards. This was actually a really good exercise and helped me see the point at which the character was going to have to make her choice. It also threw up a new issue about careful balance between pace and tension that, I decided, I could deal with later. Next I took the advice of Joyce Carole Oates and tried to change the point of view and see the events from the perspective of one of the peripheral characters. Again that was useful as it gave me another piece of the puzzle, if this situation was unfolding for my friend then I would try to intervene, so that was the next step. Having learned my lesson dear readers, I did add these to my outline plan. The final thing I did was to put down my pen and go for a walk. By keeping myself active I gave my subconscious time to work away at the problem whilst my body was busy. I’m told this also works when ironing or doing housework but personally I’m not going to risk it. I write to avoid these things.

By the middle of the week I was back on track and making steady progress. I had located my lost plot. So the lessons learned here is that in a very character driven narrative I need to have at least an overview of the key scenes or events. I am still very much learning as I go.

*NB I may not use that ending at all. It is entirely possible that my character will do something I didn’t expect and surprise me.

Confessions of a bookworm

I don’t have a favourite book. There I have said it.

I cannot remember a time when I didn’t have a book on the go and freely confess that my ‘I’d rather be reading’ t-shirt is a statement of fact in most situations. So is it strange that I don't have a favourite? Some of my earliest memories are of being read to by my Mum and Dad and some of my most precious ones are of sharing those same stories with my children. Some books are old friends and I have read them countless times whilst others are linked to key moment in my life and have in some way changed me.

It all began dear readers (as it so often does where I am concerned) with a dragon. His name was Smaug, he was terrifying and he ruled supreme under the Lonely Mountain. My Dad who served in the Royal Navy began reading The Hobbit to my siblings and I whilst on leave when I was about 9. As Thorin Oakenshield and company left Bag End to reclaim the kingdom under the mountain I was captivated. Inconveniently Dad had to go back to sea and so I had to wait months for the end of the story which fuelled vivid nightmares about trolls and creatures named Gollum.

Unsurprisingly Tolkien led me to a love of the fantasy genre and on to Terry Pratchett’s Discworld where I met Granny Weatherwax, Sam Vimes and yet another dragon. During the pandemic I decided to read the entire Discworld series in order and got so much joy from seeing the layers of the characters and the details of the world build book by book. Pratchett’s books hold a mirror up to humanity and the observations of his characters are often searing, honest and harsh truths about the modern world.

The epic adventures and magical worlds of fantasy novels are a place of escape for me but sometimes I need to read something that challenges me so I step into other genres. In my early teens the Point Horror books were a firm favourite and then later Stephen King. At university I chose a unit on Gothic literature full of uncanny, eerie and atmospheric tales. Mary Shelley’s novel with a morally grey Dr Frankenstein and his misunderstood creation have stayed with me. My favourite stories to write are uncanny and ghostly tales and are heavily influenced by the things I learned during that unit.

My love of reading has also gifted me a broad general knowledge which always comes in handy. At a particularly highbrow and fiercely contested pub quiz in Dollar I came into my own in a round titled ‘Swords and Dragons’ to the delight of my team mates who, I am sure, only invited me in case there was a spelling round. Books have also given me a way to connect with others and find common ground to build a rapport, I love it when other people recommend a book - it is such a gift. I’m also really easy to buy for with a whole world full of book and literary paraphernalia to choose from. Bookworms are in the ascendant at the moment along with my beloved dark academia so I am finally ‘cool’.

My relationship between reading and writing is rich. Everything I have read whether I enjoyed it or not has taught me something, I have structures, character arcs, tropes and a well of inspiration to draw on in my own writing. Some people say there are no new stories and I think that is true but I believe that we will always need stories so there is certainly room for them to be told again in new and exciting ways.

Learning to flow and grow

It all got very real this week with family celebrations, football training and a parent evening in my schedule. Added to that is the small complication of the wee bureau being in the same space as our spin bike and treadmill. My husband has been home all week (a rare occurrence) and seemingly believes he is also entitled to have time to accommodate his hobbies and to share the space. I don’t know if any of you have attempted to write poetry whilst your significant other is taking part in a 90s themed spin class but I don’t recommend it. So a schedule must be produced and solutions found. Our offspring, we decided, could be prevailed upon to help us out and we opened negotiations via the family WhatsApp group. In a spirited exchange my husband demanded, I wheedled and the children sulked ending in a rather predictable stalemate. Eventually I decamped to the bureau and invoked the age old and immutable law of ‘I was here first so I’m not moving’.

Then came the second hurdle of the week. I have been in a lovely state of focus and motivation for a few weeks with short stories and lots of little sparks of potential. Now I felt irritated that I wasn’t finding the time to write this week and frustrated that life was interfering with my creative flow. I’m not a real writer I decided. Who do I think I am fooling? Writers have huge libraries, a picturesque view for inspiration and perhaps a chesterfield sofa to retire to when it all gets a bit much don’t they? This was not how I pictured it as a child. Having to book a slot and snatch 20 minutes with a timer on my phone so I don’t burn the dinner. Well the reality is that this is exactly what real writers do. This is real life. My life.

Having given myself a talking to I remembered that this is supposed to be fun. I tend to write my first draft of a poem very quickly and so this week that has become my focus. I now have another two pieces in my collection. I took another small step forwards and met with a publisher to explore what my options might be if I decide to send my writing out into the world. It was a really interesting and exciting discussion and has given me a lot to think about. At the moment my goal is to improve my writing and grow into my craft but it is wonderful to know that I have options.

Despite my best efforts to self sabotage and let the imposter programming run riot my mind it has been a very productive week. Really all it took to shift it was a little change of the lens.

The tale of mice on a roller coaster…

This week I experimented with writing flash fiction. Thankfully dear readers this has nothing to do with the more, erm, niche subgenres of adult fiction. Instead I had stumbled across a writing lecture by Mary Robinette Cowal on Brandon Sanderson's YouTube channel. The participants were invited to explore narrative structure in a teeny tiny micro story. Mary explained that the art of writing short stories lies in the MICE quotient. This is the degree to which the writer selects and deploys elements of Miliue, Inquiry, Character and Event in their structure. She gave her students a 250 word limit and a starter of a character (jockey), genre (science fiction) and place (a coaster). I was hooked and picked up my pen to write along.

Over the next 40 minutes I wrote the tale of Billy (a time jockey) who was all that stood between earth and the fabric of time being turned into quantum spaghetti. In the course of 22 sentences and 278 words (to be precise!). Billy rode the coaster along the same section over and over in a frantic struggle to realign the clocks and keep the time stream flowing. He battled valiantly. He failed dismally. Then, in a moment of sheer frustration he thumped the flipping thing and saved the day. Phew!

Having only played with the character and event elements of MICE I wanted to try my hand at flash fiction with a different quotient. This time I penned the uncanny tale of a little girl with an imaginary friend called Rose. The story focused on the unsettling events taking place one summer through the eyes of our 6 year old (and somewhat unreliable) narrator. Writing with the voice and from the point of view of such a young protagonist was a real challenge but the tropes of the genre and miliue were a return to my comfort zone. This piece has provided the spark for another story in the series I am working on and I'm excited to write it.

At the moment my focus is on developing my style, craft and voice. Part of that is trying new things and exploring different ways of telling stories so flash fiction has been a perfect vehicle. I intend to do more of this because it is such a fun way to experiment with different genres, forms and structures.

To compliment my writing I am reading as many short stories as I can. The ghostly tales of Edgar Allan Poe, May Sinclair and Stephen King are absolutely perfect for spooky season as long as I read in daylight and sleep with one eye open. This process is bringing me a great deal of joy which, at the end of the day, is what really matters.

I do believe it is time for a new adventure…

A blank page is a scary thing. All that space, infinite possibilities and the chance to start a new story. I’m told that if doesn't scare you just a little then it doesn't help you grow. So onwards to adventure.

As 2022 drew to a close I felt flat. Listless and unmotivated. My children getting older and, other than requiring my services as a housekeeper and chauffeur, becoming more independent meaning I finally had time for myself. After the frenetic pace of the pandemic years I knew I now needed to slow down. I needed a project, something creative to feed my soul and energise me. Having briefly considered learning to paint or play guitar (and realising they were not among my talents) I settled on an activity which has appeared on many of my lesson plans over the years. A daily 5 minute writing session. Writing, after all, was a childhood passion encouraged by a love of reading and access to a multiverse of stories. Now it was time to find out if that passion still existed and let the words flow. It was exciting and daunting in equal measure.

So on the 1st of January 2023 I sat at the kitchen table armed with my new fountain pen and leather bound journal (which by happy coincidence had provided an opportunity to indulge my enthusiasm for shopping) and set my timer.

Unscrewing the lid from her aqua pen she paused, hand hovering over the page for a moment before she made the first stroke. Not halting and hesitant but definite and certain. Yes, she thought, it is indeed time for a new adventure.

I discovered that I clearly still enjoyed a little drama! Over the days and months since then my daily entries have covered many topics. Pouring my interests, musings and emotions out onto the page has offered a space to think and reflect. Fragments of plot points and outlines of characters began to emerge and with them a little voice that insisted these stories be told. Slowly my focus has shifted and evolved to a desire to reimagine my childhood dream of being a storyteller and becoming a writer. This blog will be my attempt to capture the experience as it unfolds. I hope you will stick around and see how this chapter ends.