Believability and Slicing Soup

Hello again, so having talked a little about my own book, I guess it would only be logical to talk about the process of writing itself, or in my case, it could be more accurately described as how I go about putting words down and hoping they will ultimately make some kind of sense. I suppose, for me, it begins with the characters, as, for the duration of the book, they do occupy a space in my mind. Now, before I go any further, I do want to reassure you, I do know they aren’t real people, so I don’t lay a place for them at the dinner table or talk to them while seeing them ,quite clearly, cheekily perched on the coffee table. But, while I am actually typing, I do try and imagine myself in their position – after all, as I created them, nobody knows them better. You see, they have to be believable, three-dimensional people, with emotional depth – otherwise, it seems to me, the book could well end up disjointed, as one character says or does something completely alien to how the reader has perceived them. It could well turn into farce as the reader finds the people in the story, doing and saying increasingly unlikely things. So, as an example, one of my main characters is an American actress, so it’s well within the realms of possibility, she would have travelled, she would, through her work, maybe have learnt how to ride horses or fire a gun and, undoubtedly, be adept in speaking with a range of accents. So, if she does any or all of those, the reader can feel they understand her. However, if in Chapter Four, I have her suddenly speaking only in Swahili while perfecting her indoor plumbing skills – well, I just feel that would leave the reader not only bemused, but then spending the rest of the book, basically ignoring the plot, hoping to discover what other hidden talents this woman might possess. I will quickly say at this point, I am sure there are American actresses who are extremely adept at fixing a leaky pipe, so I hope, if you’re one of them, you will appreciate I am only trying to illustrate a point, so please don’t be offended.

So with all of that said, how does my writing day pan out? Well, to begin with, I much prefer writing at night and I think this may be down to being a mother. During the daylight hours, like many of you, my thoughts/time/attention are called on at various intervals, not so much now, but certainly when my kids were small. I have to say, even Jane Austen might have struggled to get Mr Darcy dripping sexily out of the lake, if she’d been constantly interrupted by children asking for a drink/food/cookies/a pencil/ a book for them to read – or in my house- giving me a book and asking me to read to them.

 

 

I quickly discovered, I found it almost impossible to focus and so writing became a night-time activity, when everyone was sleeping and it was just me and the laptop. Over the years, I have found many benefits to my nocturnal behaviour, the major downside is, I invariably completely lose track of time, so it’s only when I hear the Dawn Chorus outside the window, I realise I’ve been up all night. Obviously, this wouldn’t be a problem, if I had nothing to do all day but sleep, unfortunately, this is never the case, I either have to go to work or do some household task. When this happens over several nights, owing to the lack of sleep, I do start to find it incredibly hard to concentrate on anything other than the story I’m writing and have often drifted aimlessly around the supermarket, muttering potential dialogue to myself, when I should be thinking about what to have for dinner. I am sure my family would agree, some of what’s been placed in front of them at meal-times could never be described as traditional fayre, thankfully they are remarkably understanding when they see my glazed expression, as I attempt to neatly slice soup or offer them chocolate sauce to go with their pasta. Under those circumstances, they do the only logical thing, they ask me for money then, barely able to conceal their joy as I blindly hand over the contents of my wallet, they skip off to McDonalds ! I have to confess, it has sometimes been at least ten minutes before I acknowledge the dinner table is now deserted.

I know there are some writers describe the writing process a something akin to giving birth with regard to the pain involved – if you’ve never found yourself in a maternity hospital attempting to bring forth a life, I can categorically state – that’s a load of nonsense! For me, the only similarities between the two experiences are the immense satisfaction and overwhelming relief you get, when you look at what you’ve produced. Satisfaction because you have created something which can only add to the world, and relief that the difficult part is over. (Yes, I know all you parents out there might be shaking your heads and saying that’s when our difficulties started, but let’s not burst every hope bubble for those yet to produce children).

Well, as before, I seem to have been talking way too long, so time to end this, until next time, as always…

Take care out there xxx