Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts

Saturday, 5 January 2019

End of the Holiday

So, Christmas and New Year have come and gone.  It has been a bit lazy.  We seem to adjust to a new time clock over very quickly:  up late, bed very late.  But I'm on annual leave until this coming Monday (7th Jan) so don't care overtly.  It has given me some space to write...and research.

To tidy up a few things, I finished the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  This was, in part, driven by the fact that my wife had bought me the next in the series: Girl who Played with Fire.

To close the book, so to speak, on GwtDT, like other crime thriller books I have read recently, the heroine of the title - said tattooed girl, Lisbeth Salander - only really gets involved with the hero 300 pages in.  For a book that's only just over 500 pages,  that's still over halfway.  She is in it early on but the threads of the story are only loosely linked.  Perhaps, it's my expectations that need to adjust.  Maybe it is a thing of this genre to wait for the real story to get going.  I don't know.  All I know is that I enjoyed the book and the accolades given to Larsson's writing are justified...in my opinion.

Off to one side, slightly, I convinced my wife to watch the Swedish subtitled version of the book because I remembered nothing about the Daniel Craig edition other than the girl getting on a motorbike at one point.  It was interesting inasmuch as whilst in places it had lines that were verbatim from the book, two whole romances for the hero were completely ignored, the timeline got distorted, the old detective on the case was instrumental in the solution where in the book he wasn't and one character was declared dead when she was very much alive.  It worked as a film but this is a case of:  read the book first.

In other news, my wife and I went to the Anglo-Saxon Kingdoms: Art, Word, War exhibition at the British Library.  For me, this was a fabulous two hours of gazing at the beauty of manuscripts over 1000 years old.  Some looked like they could have been written yesterday.  Others were so finely detailed you wondered how they did that with a quill.  Fabulous.

To give you an idea of what's on display until 19th February, there was:  the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Beowulf, the Lacnunga, Bald's Leechbook, Codex Amiantinus, the Utrecht Psalter, the Harley Psalter, the Domesday Book along with the Alfred Jewel (aestel), a largely complete digital recreation of the Ruthwell Cross, the stunning buckle from Sutton Hoo Mound 1 and lovely seax (a large, single-edged dagger alleged by some to be the source of the name Saxon) engraved with runes.

If you can get a ticket, go!

Moving on to my personal writing, I have struggled with the latest novella - still 'unnamed' although I am considering the rather unusual title of Lásabrójtur - you'll find out why if I ever publish it.  As for the writing itself, I know what the ending is, I know what the story is;  I just don't seem to be able to get it down in one coherent stream.  It has frustrated me to a degree.  What has surprised me, though, is that although I have struggled to write, I have already put more words down in this work than in the whole of the Stone Dead.  Inevitably, there will be a cut but I am still surprised and am wondering whether this will end up being closer to 40k words by the time it's complete - that's pretty much the upper limit for novellas.  Something else that has come out of writing this criminal tale is that I have had to do research into police and forensic procedures to reflect true Police practice rather than allow some of the more ludicrous efforts that appear on TV to cloud my writing.  They make a fascinating read and really are not that televisual in terms of excitement.

Right, it is time to go.  I have two items on my agenda for the next couple of hours: focus on getting my novella straightened out and eat food.

Until next time.

Saturday, 8 December 2018

Where did the day...fortnight...go?

It's been a busy couple of weeks, clearly.  Three weeks, I think.  I suppose most of my absence can be put down to the gathering bank raid that is called Christmas.  Not that I am the least bit religious.  I am more interested in the Winter Solstice because it means the long daylight hours of Summer are on their way once more.  I'm not a fan of getting up in the cold dark, getting to work just before sun-rise, spending all day in an artificially-lit, over-heated office and then coming home in the dark squashed into a seat on the tube among a host of plague carriers.  I am not a Winter person.

Last time I wrote I was part way through The Sea Detective, a novel ostensibly about solving the mystery of two disarticulated feet found washed up on either side of a fictional Scottish Island.  At the time I was 108 pages in and only one foot had been found.  Well, the whole disarticulated foot thread came across as incidental to the actual story about the 'hero' finding out how his grandfather died during World War II and why he wasn't recorded on the island's memorial.  In fact, the foot crime struck me as being something of a footnote.  It also prompted a deeper thought:  is this a fairly standard ruse of crime fiction:  put the most outrageous part of the story on the cover jacket to snag a purchase and then tell a totally different story for the next 300 pages?  I had read two novels using that sort of approach on the trot so I needed a third to see if the premise was false.  My mother-in-law came to the rescue by lending me a crime novel by a far better known (deceased) author:  Stieg Larsson.  Yes, I am reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.


Having just read Midwinter Sacrifice by Mons Kallentoft who was hailed a the new Stieg Larsson on the jacket by his publishers, there was only one way to determine the truth or hype of the claim.  I'll go with hype.  I'm only about a quarter the way through Larsson's book but from the start there is a gulf of difference in the writing style, narrative, dialogue and story.  To me, Kallentoft's work read as if was intended for TV and the crime was slotted into the personal lives of the characters.  Larsson's novel is so much more and it is easy to see how this became an 'international sensation' made into movies.

It may be Christmas before I finish it.

Moving on, I am still writing my second crime novella set in Cumbria.  It's darker than Stone Dead and I continue to have no idea where it's heading...but I'm going with the flow.  I also continue to have no idea what to call it:  Novella McNovellaFace is not an option even as a working title.  It's getting sidelined a bit with all the pre-Christmas activity...and work, obviously, but I will finish it.  If it runs to a similar word count as Stone Dead, I'm about halfway through at just over 10,000.  And that brings me neatly to the grand opening of the envelope containing that 1st draft.

If you remember, six weeks ago I took Stephen King's advice and put the 1st draft of Stone Dead into an envelope and wrote 6th December on the front of it.  I then went and did something else.  This evening, I opened that envelope.  Now, if I follow Mr King's advice, I should take a red pen to the said draft and edit it before handing it to my Ideal Reader.  I thought to bypass that exercise as my wife is a much better editor than I am.  But she agrees with Mr King.

If I'm honest, I don't actually like reading my own work.  It's almost entirely because I see a betters way of writing a section and that mushrooms into major reworking which is where I get bogged down in detail.  I think I will revert to using a pen on the printed page to curb my editing zeal.

I'll keep you posted...

Saturday, 24 November 2018

He's at it again...reading!

"Yes, it's true:  I've been reading.  I know it's a shock to many people but sometimes I just have to open a book and look at the words as well as the pictures.  That's when there are pictures because I've recently read one history non-fiction text, one Swedish Nordic Noir novel and am currently about halfway through yet another novel, this time set in the Scottish Isles and North Atlantic.  And as if to add 'awe' to the shock of me reading, I am a few thousand words into my next novella set in Cumbria.

Being less expected than the Spanish Inquisition, let's start with the non-fiction history book:  The Origins of the Anglo-Saxons by the late Jean Manco.


This is a fascinating book about the continental genesis of the people we know as the Anglo-Saxons both in terms of linguistically and genetically.  Having had a career as a Building Historian, Manco switched to writing about prehistory and archaeogenetics.

This text follows the Blood of the Celts and is a well-written tome but not one for people who have absolutely no idea about the Anglo-Saxons or Y-DNA analysis of (male) Haplogoups.  It seems to flip from being an erudite history of the people that later became the 'Anglo-Saxons' to complex scientific explanation of languages and the mixings of blood groups.  I found some of the dates of origins given by Manco surprising but cannot argue from my inadequate knowledge.  In some ways, it's almost like reading Tolkien where he hurls his characters headlong into utterly impossible and non-survivable battles only then to knock them out and find the giant eagles have saved them such are the changes of subject matter.

Manco actually references Tolkien, Pratchett and Cornwell for different reasons but notes how they all draw on the writings, storytelling skill and chronicles of the Norse to create they own worlds.

I enjoyed this book immensely because it was so broad in spectrum and actually read it from cover to cover; something I almost never do with academic works.  It is just a shame that Jean Manco is not longer with us to write another.

The next book is one I picked up in the Eden Charity shop in Brampton, Cumbria.  It's a Swedish crime drama called Midwinter Sacrifice by Mons Kallentoft.


Published in 2011, it was the first of a series centring around a single mother detective with a 13yr old daughter and everything that implies for the future.  It probably grabbed my attention because of the word sacrifice.  I ignored the comparisons to Larsson and Nesbo as that's the expected publisher hype.

As for a a crime drama, it struck me as if it was intended to be transferred straight to screen.  There is an enormous amount of print space spent describing the various characters as if they are to be seen not imagined and the story itself drifts alongside.  The murder of a local special needs male found hanging from a tree on the edge of a forest in the style of the Viking ritual of the Midwinter sacrifice starts off okay but doesn't really twist or turn as much as I would expect.  The subsequent investigation and denouement are satisfactory but do seem to be incidental to the lives of the various characters involved.  Then there is the constant portrayal of the location of the action - Linköping - as a dreary town in the middle of the Swedish plain south of Stockholm. Yet for all my lack of enthusiasm for this book, I did read it from cover to cover and never considered giving up on it.  It would not, however, induce me to become a 'fan'.  I may get the rest of the series from my local library (I know there's at least two) but won't buy them.

Finally, I am just about a third the way through The Sea Detective by Mark Douglas-Home.   I didn't buy this book, my wife did as it is for a book group she's a member of.  I just asked if I could read it because I had just finished Midwinter Sacrifice and found the idea of reading one of the two historical fiction novels I have at hand unappealing.


Anyway, this book was published in 2015, it tells is about an investigation into the discover of two severed feet from the same person washed up on either side of a fictional Scottish island.  Well, I say that.  I'm 108 pages in and so far there has only been one severed foot and the investigation hasn't actually got underway.  It's all been about Indian child prostitution and guerrilla flower planting in Scotland so far!  Still, the bits with the eco-activist have amused me when intended and the premise is promising.

I will, with any luck, finish this book this coming week.

And finally, I have been writing again.  It's another crime story set in Cumbria with the same Police personnel (bar one, so far) and covers a more regular sort of crime story.  I say that because there are echoes of a crime that happened on one of my refurbishment projects back in 1991.  I remember it because it was around the time Freddie Mercury died - the 27th anniversary of which, by chance, is today (24th).

That crime did not involve a corpse as my story does but it was just as sinister in it's own way in that  it was not far from the old BBC building in Wood Lane and was, I suppose, a foreshadowing of the whole Jimmy Saville affair.  I'll say no more on that but to round off, my novella is currently just over 5,000 words and, staying true to Stephen King's belief that plots are for dullards, I have only the vaguest idea where it will end up...and an even vaguer idea of the title.  It has a working title but I'm not publishing that.  Absolutely not.  It's way too weird.

Have a great weekend and see you soon.

Thursday, 25 October 2018

Stone Dead: Cooling Off

Castlerigg Stone Circle, Lakeland, Cumbria. (c) Philip McDonnell, 2018

A couple of weeks ago (On Writing: New Ideas, New Story. 12th October), I said I was writing again.  Not "that book".  Not my magnum albatross of historic fiction.  No, I was writing a new story.  A short(ish) story with the working title of Stone Dead.  Well, the first draft is complete!  Yes, you don't need to go to Specsavers: the first draft is complete!

If you recall, Stone Dead was kickstarted whilst on holiday in Cumbria.  I had just finished Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft and this story popped into my head.  A disarticulated skeleton found at a megalith in Westmorland that turns into a murder enquiry.  It was fresh in my mind and I wrote over 6,000 words of it in the last three days we were in Lanercost.  That impetus continued and the word-count had reached 13,000 by 12th October.  Since then, it's taken me until today (25th October) to complete it whilst only adding 9,000 more words.  Such is writing when you work and commute...and have dental issues.  Still, I am pleased that I've finished the first draft and pleased that it is a total departure from anything I have written before.

This is a pure and simple crime story.  That's a first just knowing what genre I've written in!  It's also set in this year which made writing from what I know a whole lot easier.  To make Mr. King proud, I let the story evolve as I wrote.  I didn't plot:  that's for dullards, remember?  Initially, I wrote as fast and as furiously as I could so as not to lose that energy.  It got slowed by having to work and the (ongoing) dental issues when I came home but I still wanted to write more than watch TV dramas or YouTube videos on programming MS Excel.

I also let the characters evolve as I wrote.  I have two female detectives which wasn't planned.  Their back-stories came out of nowhere, too.  I did a bit of research into the organisation of Cumbria Constabulary, various relevant Acts of Parliament and medical approaches and roved the streets of Westmorland like some stalker using Google Streetview.  I also did cursory checks of LIDAR results, RAF reconnaissance photos from the inter-war years and the OS historical maps.  But I didn't get bogged down in detail like I have in the past.  I looked, I found what I wanted and I worked my way around that information if what I found didn't quite fit what was happening in my head.  In some instances, the information forced a change that was even more exciting.  It wasn't difficult.

If I found anything difficult, it was detaching myself from the real countryside to create a fictional one.  I also found it a bit difficult to write prose.  Dialogue came easily.  It conveyed the minds of the characters.  But if I remember the first draft of "that book", that too was heavy on dialogue.  I only created greater prose on the second draft.  What will happen when I start editing for the second draft of Stone Dead is anyone's guess.  It's a novella; the rules are a little different.  Which brings me to the 'cooling off period'.

Mr King advocates that I should put my 1st draft away for at least 6 weeks before looking to review it.  At that point, I should read it through myself, make all the grammatical, spelling and other no-brainer corrections I can find as well as look to remove 10% of what I've written.  (Remember:  he was once advised that 2nd Draft = 1st Draft - 10%.)  Once that's done, then I can let my Ideal Reader loose on my work.

Well, 6 weeks takes me up to 6th December.  I will set a reminder on my calendar and see what I think then.

In the meantime, Mr King advocates having a celebration of some kind.  Not being a drinker, it won't involve alcohol.  I would order pizza but it's off my agenda after the stomach upset I had last night and my continuing dental issues.  Maybe I'll just have a Jaffa Cake...or twelve.

As a parting thought, maybe I'll get to start my 2nd draft whilst having my tooth extracted.  Won't that be fun?


Friday, 12 October 2018

On Writing: New Ideas, New Story

Tree in the moat of Brough Castle, Westmorland. (C) Philip McDonnell 2018

My last post was on Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, a welcome comrade in arms when it comes to writing.  Since then I have been quiet on the blogging front.  "Why's that?" you cry,  all one of my readers.  "It's because I've been writing...and it's not medieval historical fiction!"

Yes, it's true; I have been writing and it's because I was inspired by our holiday landscape and Mr King's advice.

That last post was written in Lanercost in Cumbria where myself and my wife spent two whole weeks relaxing, reading (obviously), visiting various places from Kendal in the south to South Shields in the East.  Hmm, confusing that.  We also ate a substantial amount of Kendal cake:  the ice-white one, not chocolate-covered version.  Not good for a diabetic...but it was lovely.

(Top-tip: we found the best - that is, cheapest - place to buy Kendal cake was Tebay Services at Junction 37 of the M6!)

We chose Cumbria this year because neither of us had ever been there (other than to pass through on the train as we headed to Gretna for a family wedding).

My wife loves loves prehistory and had discovered the whole northwest of England is rich in henges, circles, megaliths and suchlike.  I'm just always happiest in hills, mountains and woodland and Cumbria, Westmorland, and Lakeland has all of that and more - along with a lot of sheep.

The unexpected bonus was being inspired to write something new, modern and almost a complete departure from my usual historic haunts. (Although this tale includes numerous references to pre-history in a sinister sort of way).  And in the last half of our holiday, that energy to write was amazing.

I haven't been so inspired to write for years.  There was a buzz.  A short(ish) story based around the discovery of an excarnated skeleton in a copse where there was a megalith and the ensuing police investigation.  I was achieving around 2000 words a day (Mr King would be proud) and not back-tracking to edit.  By the time we left on the Friday morning there were almost 6,000 words in the Scrivener file.  (Currently, the total stands at nearly 13,000 but my working day coupled with emergency dentistry, A& E and everything else has reduced my daily count to 1,000 words tops and meant that I have had to go back and edit as the ideas flow and formulate.  As Mr King noted (in a summarised fashion):  plotting is for dullards.

The working title is Stone Dead.  I'll keep you posted.  Now a photo of (Long Meg and) Her Sisters.

A few of the Sisters of Long Meg. (c) Philip McDonnell, 2018




Tuesday, 2 October 2018

On Writing by Stephen King

This is not a critical review of Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft.  There is a lot of sensible, pragmatic advice in this book that takes a would-be author through the whole process of writing from 1st Draft to Publication.  Much of this I have learned over the years and won't bore you with a detailed account.  No, this post is about what I've taken from this work that will help me move forward in my own writing.

The first 118 pages of On Writing are a brief, self-effacing autobiography to 1997.  It is his "CV".  It even covers his descent into alcoholism, drug dependancy and rehabilitation.  It's to the point, frequently profane and rather funny.  It is also somewhat sad when he says he barely remembers writing Cujo because of his addictions [1].  It is an insight into the man and how he is going to deliver his wisdom.  (There are another 22 pages starting after his wisdom, at p.305, that cover the period from being hit by a truck, sustaining a medical dictionary's worth of hideous injuries and his remarkably rapid to returning to work some months later whereafter he finished this book.)

The next section is the "Toolbox".  In 36 pages, he uses the carpenter's tray toolbox metaphor to go through the fundamentals of English language - top tray: vocabulary and grammar; second tray: elements of writing style, etc.  It rattles those universal schoolboy hates:  not repeating a word on the page that's been used in a previous sentence or paragraph, and; remembering the technical names for parts of sentences that serve no purpose in adult life unless you intend to teach English.  Reading that short section made me aware that I still consciously abide by those grammar school rules and edit repeatedly to remove duplications, adverbial abominations and clichés.  I've done it here, several times.

Toolbox open, so to speak, Mr King then commences his approach to the mastery of the craft.

Inevitably, he starts with the obvious great commandment of many authors:  read and read a lot [2].  Epic fail there then.  I am a poor reader.  No, I'm an abysmal reader.  Stephen King says he's a poor reader and yet he gets through about 70 to 80 books a year, mostly fiction [3].  I normally only get through one, maybe two.  For someone who writes fiction, that is appalling.  Of course, I read plenty of academic papers and non-fiction texts for research but I need to remember that I am writing fiction.  My wife has been telling me for ages that I am not writing a research paper.  Mr King makes the same comment later in his text [4].

In actuality, it has been a bit of an extraordinary year on the fiction reading front in that I've read three novels already - two of Bernard Cornwell's Last Kingdom series and Graham Greene's masterpiece, The Power and the Glory.  I also started a fourth in May (that shall remain nameless) but only got to page 14 before my intolerance of poor research had me ruing the £3.99 I had spent on it (3 for 2 deal at Tesco, the other two books being for my wife).  There is also a fifth historical novel by an author I've never heard of that will be started today.  We'll see how that goes.

If I'm truthful, I find reading historical fiction rather hard.  This is in part because it's for pleasure, not learning.  Yet, as long as I am enjoying the story, why should I crave facts?  Well, because they add tangible anchors to my vision of the world being portrayed and if they're wrong, I am jarred, sometimes deeply irritated.  The Last Kingdom series, for instance, creates a believable vision of 9th Century England even though I know Cornwell bends historical facts to fit his storylines.  Often, in the epilogues, he freely admits what he's contorted.  That's fine because I didn't notice so it didn't mar my enjoyment.  Many years ago, Ellis Peters achieved the same ensorcelling with Cadfael when I knew far less than I do today and I loved them just as much.  Ignorance was indeed bliss.  But there are works that fail miserably and I could throw straight into the bin; the one I bought in Tesco being a prime example.  Mr King, however, maintains that if I had despatched the accomplished author's drivel to a charity shop, I would have missed an opportunity to learn how not to write.  Style, capability to describe people and scenes, write dialogue, set pace and characterise will develop the more I read - even the rubbish.  Further, the more I read, the more I will learn what aspects of my genre have not already been 'have-at-you'd' to death in a stampede of cliché (insert ROFL emoji of your choice and frequency).

Moving on, Mr King concurs with just about every other writing guide that you need a dedicated writing space.  He recommends it should be free of distractions:  phones, TVs, even views out the window and, vitally, be a room with a lockable door to get that spontaneous, energy-filled first draft down uninterrupted [5] .  He does allow music into his writing room which suits me.  For him it's groups like Metallica.  Mine tend to be more folky, ethereal, echoing a medieval or Arabian feel like Jethro Tull, Loreena McKennitt and some Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow.  He also agrees with learned counsel that it is essential to have the commitment to set daily minimum word-count targets.   He aims for 2,000 words per 3 hour morning stint which produces a 180,000 word novel in three months.  That velocity seems daunting to me.  I have done 2,000 words and more in a morning but not day in day out.  The energy must be incredible.  He even notes that he was on fire when he wrote The Running Man and completed that in a week [6]!

One of the frequent pieces of advice given to budding authors is: "write what you know".  Whilst not absolutely against it, he recommends you write whatever you like as long as it is believable.  He's adamant about believability.  He says readers switch off if the characters or story cease to have any credibility.  He returns to this absolute when discussing description, dialogue, characterisation, symbolism and theme.  It doesn't mean don't only write what you know but if your writing a murder mystery, it seems highly unlikely you will have much real world experience unless you are a) the murderer;  b) the detective or c) Kathy Reichs (who trained FBI agents in the recovery of human remains and was a consultant forensic anthropologist to North Carolina before Déja Dead shot her to authorial fame in 1997).  It's common sense really.  In my case, fortunately for my readership, Quantity Surveying didn't exist in the 12th century so I'm going to have to rely upon what I know about medieval construction instead.  Ah, you cry, but didn't Ken Follett do that in Pillars of the Earth and World Without End?  Oh.  Yes.  Bugger.  Just as well that building is incidental to all but one of my forthcoming trilogy.  (Trilogy? Insert more ROFL and rolling eyes emojis of your choice.)

Moving swiftly on...

The further I got into On Writing, the more I found myself liking Mr King's approach.  The first major plus came when he wrote do not to get hung up on the plot.  (Yes!)  He says plot "is a good writer's last resort and a dullard's first choice" [7].  He doesn't hate plotting.  He does it where necessary but he calls it various derogatory names including tyrannical and the jackhammer of writing:  clumsy, mechanical and anti-creative [8].  After all, he says, our lives are plotless [8].  It was quite a relief to see this put so succinctly.  I never had a concrete plot for Broken Bonds:  my characters had situations through which they told the story.  The first draft grew organically.  In places it was perfect, evocative, emotional.  In others, ludicrously lacking.

This leads him on to say that he doesn't always know exactly how his stories end either.  (Yes again!)  I have worried about weak endings and no endings for years.  Finally, I have a world-renowned author saying why be a control freak; the ending will come out somewhere? [10]

So, having spent years thinking I need a clear plot and definitive ending, I now know it is not an absolute. These are the two key points I will take from this book to move my own work forward.

To finish off then, Stephen King has created an easy, engaging take on the 'how to write' genre.  Often, such books are too academic.  This is sensible, enlightening, irreverent, profane and packed full of anecdotes.  It is clearly the best creative writing book I have read, far more engaging than Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones and less woo-woo than Julia Cameron's more broad-spectrum Artist's Way.  It is also clear to me that there is absolutely nothing wrong with my approach to writing other than I don't read anywhere near enough fiction and don't write every day.

1. King, Stephen, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, p.110, New English Library, Hodder & Stoughton. 2001
2. Ibid, p.164
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid, p.277
5. Ibid, p.178
5. Ibid, p.175
6. Ibid, p.189
7. Ibid.
8. Ibid, p.188
9. Ibid, p.190

Sunday, 23 September 2018

Where's My Imagination?


Previously on "Where's My Imagination?", I explained in my rambling way that I had lost the plot.  Quite literally lost the plot of my novel Broken Bonds.  The more academic I had become, the less my imagination could operate within the true historic framework of the 12th century.  Ludicrous really but none the less true.  I had no plot, only a vague notion of where the story was going and absolutely no idea how to end it.  I wasn't even calling it Broken Bonds any more.

Well, that last post gave me a lot of freedom to think afresh.  And this time, it seems to be bearing fruit.

I wondered: what if I went back to the beginning?  What if I wrote down what I remembered of my original intentions from almost 30 years ago (other than trying to be Umberto Eco and Ellis Peters in the same novel)?  Let's try that.  So, without any plan other than to write what I remembered, I started typing.

To digress just a little, I use a fabulous piece of writing software called Scrivener produced by Literature and Latte.  It is now on version 3 and, although I have barely touched the surface of its capabilities, I use it for all my fiction.  (I may one day use it for my academic and blogging output, too, but for now, it is just for my fiction.)  There is also a sizeable community on Facebook, various YouTube videos and authors' blogs.  It's popular, in short, and justifiably so.  The image below gives you a taste of the layout that I haven't really bothered to customise and it is this that I have used to rediscover my intentions...and rekindle my imagination.

Sample screen of Literature & Latte's "Scrivener 3" app on macOS.
Now, me being me, that personality trait of mine called 'neat' wanted to give my thoughts some structure, create a table in Scrivener, a nice, ordered table that I could keep expanding.  I won't do that again.  Tables in Scrivener are awkward to me and nothing like what I am used to in MS Word.  However, another personality trait kicked in called 'integrity' so because I had started the table of awkwardness, I was determined to finish it...a bit like writing Broken Bonds.

Now I'm not going to publish an image of the table but essentially, I asked myself questions like:
  • What was Broken Bonds about originally?
  • What did I want to achieve?
  • What was the intended underlying backstory?
  • Should I rationalise the number of key characters?
It was quite cathartic and made me think even more.  Best of all though, it inspired me to simplify, clarify and plot.  That is what I am going to write about today.

Simplifying is a major challenge.  I don't do simple, I do detailed.  So, to tackle that first item on the list decided to strip the story back to being centred around one character - Aymeric - the central character of the original novella.  The numerous versions of Broken Bonds have seen various characters come and go.  Some I was quite attached to.  Some were far better developed than Aymeric which was really rather stupid given his status.  Thus, I set out to redress this glaring weakness and complete his backstory:  a major detail I had never done in 30 years.  I had roughed out his life up to 31st March 1146AD but thereafter let the next 21 years become a bit...er...lost to history.  Not now.  Last night, I had his backstory up to the date Broken Bonds actually starts on 1st September 1167AD.  It is coherent, it is believable, it is complete.  And it may never get used to the full.

Turning to clarifying, I need to sweep away the randomness, the diversions and those sparkly little facts that had me fall down repeated academic rabbit holes and not find my way back out for decades.  I recognise that in the past I have spent hundreds on books, travelling and all manner of academic incidentals to track down a fact only to discard it later because it just wasn't needed!

Moving swiftly on, then, genre has actually caused me more trouble that I expected.  In my last post, I made it clear my intention was not to write an historical murder-mystery.  I had always had a highbrow aim for my novel and saw the Crime genre as requiring the incessant search for that 'wow' moment to hook a very savvy readership.  Ellis Peters had cornered the 12th century sleuthing market with Cadfael and I had no wish to be branded a poor imposter.  I had it in mind to make my novel a one-off commentary on 12th century social history and deeply literary.  Ha!  Who was I trying to kid?  What I have realised is:  the original rewrite of Broken Bonds was fundamentally a cold-case murder-mystery - just not a very realistic one.  Inevitably then, I have a quite a lot of work to do to straighten this out.

And once that's done, what's next?  Well, the plot: from beginning to end.  No, actually, from end to beginning.  As I was typing this post, a lightbulb went on it my mind's eye illuminating a writing technique I used when I was doing my BA & MA back between 2003 and 2012:  write the end first.  It doesn't mean the end is a 'foregone conclusion' but it focuses the mind.  On more than one occasion during my studies I realised my intended outcome was unsustainable and had to rethink and rewrite.  Here, with Broken Bonds, I have already written the outline of the ending.  I wrote it years ago as the beginning of another, connected story and it has been repeated in various forms ever since.  Now though, I see it as the end of Broken Bonds.  Obviously, I am not going to give anything away and the precise wording will go down on the page as I work through to the last full-stop.  Thereafter, my Editor-in-Chief will release the Red Pen of Doom to do its worst before the final denouement sees the public light of day.

So, there you have it.  Clearly, my imagination is alive and well after many years of academic oppression and rejoicing!  Now all I have to do is write 300-ish pages of coherent fiction to prove it...



Friday, 31 August 2018

Academic Historian: is that true?

Myself re-enacting a medieval academic historian or chronicler.
(C) Debra McDonnell, February 2010

Tuesday was a difficult day at work last week.  Very difficult.  I had a not-inconsiderable disappointment regarding a promotion that left me very low and then, laughably, the same day I had to attend a meeting to set my incentive targets for the coming year.  I was not in the mood.  I really wasn't.  I had spent a good part of the previous weekend in silent introspection about something that has been a major part of my personal life and was already miserable.

I had been having an internal dialogue about why I could never finish my novel.  Yes, 'that novel' to the people who know me, the one I have been writing for over 30 years.  I was wondering whether I should just bin it and declare "I am not a writer!"  I pondered why I could not create a decent story arc; especially one with a strong end.  From that it spiralled into the realisation that I had become obsessed with real history and seemingly lost the ability to weave a fictional history into the chronicled gaps.  I concluded that my shift toward academic historian had impacted everything and that started to drag me down to the low I experienced at work.

Yet, am I really an academic historian (by passion) as I have put in my "Me, me, me" profile?  I'm starting to wonder.

I began writing my magnum albatross of historical fiction in my mid-20s.  I had taken it out of the realm of medieval fantasy and crossed into the turbulent history of the 12th century.  I had already started reading historical fiction but was equally consumed by the subject of archaeology.  I discovered Current Archaeology magazine at English Heritage's Temple Manor in Strood, Kent and drank in every detail.  At the same time I started reading all of Ellis Peters' Cadfael novels (20 in total) and read Umberto Eco's Name of the Rose.   I loved the simple formulaic murder-mystery nature of Cadfael and how each tale drew me into Ellis Peters' vision of pastoral and secular England in the mid-12th century.  I equally loved Eco's literary, deeply academic murder-mystery tour-de-force set in the pre-Black Death 14th century.  They became my benchmark and I was determined to condense the two styles into one.

Perhaps that was my mistake:  the arrogance of believing I could condense two styles into one - whilst not writing a murder-mystery.

The general Cadfael writing formula always seemed to be weather, dirty deed, sleuthing and denouement.  That is a massive simplification but it still inspired.  In the years before the internet, I collected a year's worth of weather reports from the Independent newspaper to give me a real weather reference to work with.  I drove around the locations of my novel (except Lisbon and the Middle East) and collected ideas such as listening to the countryside, inhaling its scents and noting the quality of light.  That was the simple part.  The Name of the Rose element, however, unleashed the perfectionist researcher in me: the veritable beast upon my shoulder yearning to wag the finger and say:  "You know nothing, (Jon Snow)".

It became the enemy of my imagination.

At one stage, I enjoyed having my imagination be inspired by a side street of obscure historic detail that was infinitely more interesting and intriguing than anything I had previously contrived.  It was exciting.  Synchronicity, too, seemed to smile on me.  I got so involved with my story I once subtitled it History of a Past Life.  Yet, over time, I lost that connection and the excitement.  I took a BA (Hons) and MA in History and Medieval History to prove I knew what I was talking about and did not notice my imagination had become disengaged.  I had lost sight of what I was trying to write and, as my wife pointed out, my work was reading more like an academic paper than a novel. 

So, had I become an academic historian?

On the face of it, yes.  But actually, no, because History was not my preferred choice of study.  I have already said above that I began to be consumed by Archaeology at the same time as I became interested in the 12th century but when I searched for a part-time degree that a mature student could do, nothing existed in Kent.  Nine years later, when I was discussing my PhD ideas with my History professor, he kept repeating one word:  archaeology.  I should have taken the hint.

In conclusion then, subconsciously, I consider myself more archaeologist than historian even though I have never formally studied the subject.  Many years ago, an old friend often said I should've been an osteo-archaeologist because I like dead people.  Maybe she was right.  To that end then, here's a photo of the a dog's skull unearthed earlier this during at site of the Anglo-Saxon era Barking Abbey, Essex.  The original Barking Dog?  Who knows: he's certainly looked better.

A dog burial discovered on land that was once the wharf of Barking Abbey in the Anglo-Saxon era. 
(C) Philip McDonnell 2018