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Beginnings
You want to write a novel, so where do you start? Letâs first of all dismiss the topic of technology. A computer is helpful: it makes editing easy, likewise printing out copies. Some people find that having, in effect, a neat top copy always in front of their eyes helps them keep their thoughts ordered. A spell checker and word counter are also helpful features.
On a humbler level, paper and pen or pencil have been used, and are still used. Their advantages? They are portable (try using a computer in the bath), cheap, and have sensory appeal to some writers (yellow legal pads and 2B pencils are a particular favourite). Roald Dahl worked with pencil and paper in his garden shed, a plank of wood for a desk. A novelist friend of mine writes in longhand in bed between midnight and 3 a.m. I am typing this straight on to a computer, using notes from my trusty red exercise books.
The hardware of writing is largely irrelevant: it is the software (or what in modern computer jargon is being called âwetwareâ â the human brain) that counts. An expensive desk and computer wonât help you write (as the best-selling author Sue Townsend discovered when she still found herself drawn back to the kitchen table). Donât be misled by technology â a writer is someone who writes. Experiment by all means, find a medium that suits you, and then get on with the task of writing your novel.
Whether you prefer to write by hand or on a computer, the most important thing to do is just sit down and write.
A writer in search of an idea
So, you have cleared a space on the table, bought your paper or polished the screen of your computer. Now what? There are two ways of looking at this. If you want to be a writer, but have nothing to write about, youâll be like a knight in armour searching for a damsel in distress to rescue. Good luck â there is no guarantee youâll find one. There was a six-month gap between finishing my second novel and starting my third novel during which time I had no ideas at all. In desperation, I scraped around in the department of my brain marked âgood ideasâ, and eventually came up with a scenario anyone who has read Crime and Punishment will recognize. And so I filled a notebook with storylines, flogging this dead horse with diminishing enthusiasm, until one day I forgot to pick up the notebook. About time, too.
Itâs a frustrating fact of the creative life that motivation alone isnât enough to produce a work of art. We need a spark, a germ, a seed. A novel is not a machine â you canât build one. A novel is more like a bonfire: you can lay as much firewood as you please, but without a spark youâll get no heat. Henry James called this spark a donnĂŠe, a gift, something that you receive.
On the other hand, if you are a person who has an urge to bring into existence an idea which has been bothering you, somebody who has a particular story to tell, thank your lucky stars â you have received your donnĂŠe, your subject has chosen you.
Keep writing something while youâre looking for your idea â your diary, personal letters, character studies, plot outlines â nothing is ever wasted, and you never know, the idea might emerge from one of them.
TAKE WHAT YOU GET
Donât resist being chosen. I see it a lot with my students: an idea tugs at their sleeve, but they ignore it because they want to write something more noble, or exciting or intellectual. And generally the results are what you would expect: strained and artificial. But when students recognize the wealth of material they already possess, they can access their greatest asset as writers: their uniqueness. Nobody has lived your story, nobody has had your combination of experiences. Use your life experiences. If youâre lucky, you may find you donât have any choice â hopefully your story is demanding to be written.
âYou know, you donât always have a choice what youâre going to write. Youâre not like a cow that can give cream with one udder and milk with another.â
HOPING, WAITING AND LOOKING
What can be done if you have an urge to write, but have yet to be chosen by your subject? You can hope, and you can wait, and you can look. There is no shortage of material out there, itâs just a matter of adjusting your story antennae to âultrasensitiveâ. We are inundated with story stimulus, perhaps the richest source being life itself: real things happening to real people. Form the habit of watching events through a novelistâs eye, listening to dialogue through a novelistâs ear.
Trawl through your past for story fodder. Particularly if you are writing for children, think back to the events which were important for you at that time of life. The chances are, if they were important for you, they would be relevant to a young reader.
Newspapers and magazines are often a rich source of material. Rather than storing this material away in your memory, or building a stack of newspapers, or files of unsifted clippings, try keeping a scrapbook. Cut out interesting items from newspapers, or photographs of people and scenery that catch your eye. Much of it may never be used, but what you do use can be invaluable.
When I was writing my first novel I looked out for faces in magazines which fitted my protagonists. The pictures I settled on â the actors Trevor Howard and Meryl Streep â not only helped me in my characterization, but also provided me with the harmless fantasy of casting these actors in the film version of the book!
If you are looking for an idea, trawl though newspapers. Although the news they usually report is grim, there is little doubt that the stories often have dramatic potential. See what you can make of one of the following, all of which are real examples:
⢠A six-year-old girl threw herself in front of a train and killed herself because she wanted to become an angel and look after her sick mother.
⢠A man kidnapped the son of a millionaire friend because he was missing his own children.
⢠A man and a woman who met as strangers discussed their separate domestic problems and decided to kill themselves.
A less unwieldy tool in the writerâs kit is the notebook â no need for scissors and paste here, just a pen and paper. Jot down snatches of dialogue â both heard and imagined. Write down story ideas and fresh twists in the plot. Sketch maps of the imagined landscape, draw pictures of the house your hero lives in. Some novelists always have a notebook handy, just in case an idea comes when theyâre away...