As I was making the fundamental error of trying to work on my novel while a certain curly-haired nature presenter was waxing lyrical on the television, it occurred to me that creating a second draft is a strange experience. It makes you wonder about your frame of mind when you wrote the first one. I’m finding that some pages contain paragraphs that are near-perfect and don’t need as much as a semi-colon moving.
Others seem to have been written in a drunken haze by a short-sighted chimpanzee.
No wonder you always hear that no writer writes a good first draft. I’ll take comfort from that, even if I imagine the likes of Ian Rankin and PD James don’t have to make quite as many changes as I have.
Of course, it’s satisfying to correct such sentences/paragraphs/pages and there’s nothing like the feeling that you’ve really bottomed that particular section. Yet it can be time consuming. I read recently that J.R.R Tolkien’s son said of his father that his life was a constant battle against time. I certainly know what he meant.
As it happens, I am still managing to hold onto the coat tails of time; but as the weeks pass, it becomes more and more difficult.
One of the ways I try to counter this is working at the same time every day. It helps fool the brain into thinking a particular time is work time and it seems to be working...so far...
Another tip - taken from Kate Mosse’s Tips for Writers - is to speak your dialogue out loud. This not only helps make your dialogue sound more natural, but it also helps get you through those times when you’re struggling to stop your mind wandering. It makes for a great change of pace and never fails to re-focus my attention on the novel.
Unless, of course, Kate Humble’s on television.
Friday 30 May 2008
Friday 23 May 2008
Weeks 34 & 35 - Dodging the Draft to the Lighter Side of Life
I’m still scratching.
After deciding that a week away would be just the thing to clear my mind and recharge the writing batteries, I settled on the Cairngorms. What could be better than a week of isolation to forget all about the pressures of deadlines, second drafts and all the other assorted madness of daily life?
The Scottish mountain range – now a national park – certainly didn’t disappoint; but there was just one problem. Even though I had left my laptop and all my papers behind, try as I might, my novel had somehow hitched a ride on my consciousness and had followed me all the way up the A9 to spend the week with me.
Like President Clinton, although I thought I had successfully avoided the draft, it kept coming back to haunt me.
There I was, surrounded by beautiful scenery, the sound of spring birdsong and midges the size of oranges and what kept popping into my head? Was my murderer giving themself away by doing this or should they do that? Is Chapter Two too long; why am I no nearer coming up with a title?..
What my week surrounded by heather did (that’s heather with a small “h”, just in case you’re wondering), was make me realise the extent to which writing a novel takes over your subconscious. Like the midges, however much you try to pretend they’re not feasting on your Sassenach blood, they’re always waiting for their next slurp of O Positive.
Not that I should complain. After all what’s the alternative? No ideas…no sudden inspiration for a new character…no new plot strands that demand attention with all the subtly of a Capercaillie lek?
I’ll take the midges anytime.
As, I am sure, would have Peter Harvey – Sheffield journalist and author – the news of whose death greeted me on my return from north of the border.
For years Peter wrote a column six days a week in the Morning Telegraph and even in retirement, he still managed to file a weekly piece. A family friend, Peter was the embodiment of a writer who produced the goods time after time.
Unlike the midges, he will be missed.
After deciding that a week away would be just the thing to clear my mind and recharge the writing batteries, I settled on the Cairngorms. What could be better than a week of isolation to forget all about the pressures of deadlines, second drafts and all the other assorted madness of daily life?
The Scottish mountain range – now a national park – certainly didn’t disappoint; but there was just one problem. Even though I had left my laptop and all my papers behind, try as I might, my novel had somehow hitched a ride on my consciousness and had followed me all the way up the A9 to spend the week with me.
Like President Clinton, although I thought I had successfully avoided the draft, it kept coming back to haunt me.
There I was, surrounded by beautiful scenery, the sound of spring birdsong and midges the size of oranges and what kept popping into my head? Was my murderer giving themself away by doing this or should they do that? Is Chapter Two too long; why am I no nearer coming up with a title?..
What my week surrounded by heather did (that’s heather with a small “h”, just in case you’re wondering), was make me realise the extent to which writing a novel takes over your subconscious. Like the midges, however much you try to pretend they’re not feasting on your Sassenach blood, they’re always waiting for their next slurp of O Positive.
Not that I should complain. After all what’s the alternative? No ideas…no sudden inspiration for a new character…no new plot strands that demand attention with all the subtly of a Capercaillie lek?
I’ll take the midges anytime.
As, I am sure, would have Peter Harvey – Sheffield journalist and author – the news of whose death greeted me on my return from north of the border.
For years Peter wrote a column six days a week in the Morning Telegraph and even in retirement, he still managed to file a weekly piece. A family friend, Peter was the embodiment of a writer who produced the goods time after time.
Unlike the midges, he will be missed.
Friday 9 May 2008
Week 33 - The Deadline Redemption
As predicted, this week has been a flurry of late nights, far too much caffeine, and many bleary eyed mornings (apologies to the woman whom I almost sent flying when my sleep-walking self failed to notice her as she emerged from M&S at 8.15am carrying a week’s shopping.)
What is it about deadlines? It’s not as if I don’t face them on a daily basis; so why is it I always get there with only seconds to spare?
The term "deadline" apparently comes from the line around the edge of prisons which if the inmates passed, they would be shot. Sound like some editors I have known.
I would recommend Donald Murray’s Writing to Deadline (available from Amazon) for anyone struggling to hit those all important dates/times. While predominately aimed at journalists, most of the book applies to all kinds of writing. After all, fiction writers may not have daily - or hourly - deadlines, but they have deadlines all the same.
I met my deadline - just - but ended the week with no time to spare as well as feeling as if I haven’t slept in days (possibly because I haven’t slept in days).
My reward is a full week off. The novel is going away and I am going to try not to think about it. Then I have 10 weeks to polish the second draft - getting to the meat of the thing and attempting to re-write it so that it starts to resemble something a publisher may actually want to buy.
Of course, as my 52 weeks begin to run out, the deadlines will loom larger and panic will begin to set in (again). Being positive, it’s possible that I might finish the next section ahead of deadline. But then again, it’s possible I may open the batting for Yorkshire this summer. I have a strange feeling I needn't wash my cricket whites just yet.
There is a secret about deadlines that many journalists and writers tend not to air, because it is traditionally an area we moan about (and let’s face it, we like a moan). It is this: deadlines are actually fun. Without them, I for one, would probably never complete a single piece of work. There is a rush about writing to deadline. It’s exciting, it’s thrilling and it works.
Any old fool can jump off a cliff with a bungee rope tied to their ankle, but if you want a real adrenaline rush, write to a deadline. There’s nothing like it to get the creative juices pumping and even more importantly, to get the job done. We need deadlines and it never fails to amaze me how smoothly the words flow when you have an editor jumping up and down, demanding the work within the next ten minutes...even if your editor is you. It’s what separates us from people who put down their work - finished or not - at the end of the day and walk away. Stress-free perhaps, but where’s the fun in that?
It all reminds me of an old Peanuts strip. It’s the last day of the long summer vacation and Charlie Brown is desperately trying to find someone - anyone - who has not started the book they were given to read over the summer. Of course, he’s the only one. Lucy tells him that she read the book in the first week so that she would have the rest of the summer free without the task hanging over her. Charlie Brown fumes and slopes off to a late night session with Gulliver’s Travels.
Lucy, I often think, is the kind of person who will go on to a successful career in something respectable. Charlie Brown, on the other hand, will probably end up a writer.
What is it about deadlines? It’s not as if I don’t face them on a daily basis; so why is it I always get there with only seconds to spare?
The term "deadline" apparently comes from the line around the edge of prisons which if the inmates passed, they would be shot. Sound like some editors I have known.
I would recommend Donald Murray’s Writing to Deadline (available from Amazon) for anyone struggling to hit those all important dates/times. While predominately aimed at journalists, most of the book applies to all kinds of writing. After all, fiction writers may not have daily - or hourly - deadlines, but they have deadlines all the same.
I met my deadline - just - but ended the week with no time to spare as well as feeling as if I haven’t slept in days (possibly because I haven’t slept in days).
My reward is a full week off. The novel is going away and I am going to try not to think about it. Then I have 10 weeks to polish the second draft - getting to the meat of the thing and attempting to re-write it so that it starts to resemble something a publisher may actually want to buy.
Of course, as my 52 weeks begin to run out, the deadlines will loom larger and panic will begin to set in (again). Being positive, it’s possible that I might finish the next section ahead of deadline. But then again, it’s possible I may open the batting for Yorkshire this summer. I have a strange feeling I needn't wash my cricket whites just yet.
There is a secret about deadlines that many journalists and writers tend not to air, because it is traditionally an area we moan about (and let’s face it, we like a moan). It is this: deadlines are actually fun. Without them, I for one, would probably never complete a single piece of work. There is a rush about writing to deadline. It’s exciting, it’s thrilling and it works.
Any old fool can jump off a cliff with a bungee rope tied to their ankle, but if you want a real adrenaline rush, write to a deadline. There’s nothing like it to get the creative juices pumping and even more importantly, to get the job done. We need deadlines and it never fails to amaze me how smoothly the words flow when you have an editor jumping up and down, demanding the work within the next ten minutes...even if your editor is you. It’s what separates us from people who put down their work - finished or not - at the end of the day and walk away. Stress-free perhaps, but where’s the fun in that?
It all reminds me of an old Peanuts strip. It’s the last day of the long summer vacation and Charlie Brown is desperately trying to find someone - anyone - who has not started the book they were given to read over the summer. Of course, he’s the only one. Lucy tells him that she read the book in the first week so that she would have the rest of the summer free without the task hanging over her. Charlie Brown fumes and slopes off to a late night session with Gulliver’s Travels.
Lucy, I often think, is the kind of person who will go on to a successful career in something respectable. Charlie Brown, on the other hand, will probably end up a writer.
Friday 2 May 2008
Week 32 - Eight Days A Week
With just seven days to go until the end of my “structure re-write”, I have eight chapters to work through.
Time for some deep breaths.
The saving grace here is that as I have progressed through my novel from those tentative early chapters through the awkward teens to the assured twenty somethings, I have found that less and less work is required on the structure.
While I would like this to be because my writing has improved from dull cliche-ridden juvenilia to assured maturity, with Hemingway-like dialogue sparkling like a Tiffany’s diamond; it might actually be that I just had more of an idea what the hell was going on by Chapter 25.
My new character - Dr Styles - is now firmly embedded within the text and with his inclusion, the book’s structure is now taking on a fully formed shape.
Just in case you’ve forgotten, I have broken my second draft into three stages. The first was a read through with red pen in hand, marking out all the structural inconsistencies and contradictions. The second period - seven weeks in total - is the re-write based purely on structural changes (i.e no prose polishing).
This has proved to be harder than anticipated. The temptation to re-write passages that while structurally correct, look about as polished as the floor of my local kebab house at 3am on a Saturday, has been very strong.
Yet if writing to deadlines teaches you anything, it’s how to stick to time constraints. So with a little luck, and the age old tradition of working too many hours in the day or so before deadline, by this time next week I will (have to) have got to the end of the middle stage of my second draft.
I then get to take a full seven days off. The idea being that you lay aside your novel completely so that when you return a week later to write the second draft properly, you approach with the fresh eyes.
It will also be my last break for four and a half months. After that, I have a clear run through the summer to finish my second draft and then write the third and final draft, to be completed by the end of week 52 on 20th September.
But that’s all in the future - and better not to dwell on too much. For now, I need to get to the end of my current task - take a week off - and then begin what I hope will be the enjoyable task of writing the second draft.
It’s a lot of work - and there will undoubtedly be many temptations in the summer to distract me from my task - but at the end of it, what would I rather have: a sun tan or a novel?
Time for some deep breaths.
The saving grace here is that as I have progressed through my novel from those tentative early chapters through the awkward teens to the assured twenty somethings, I have found that less and less work is required on the structure.
While I would like this to be because my writing has improved from dull cliche-ridden juvenilia to assured maturity, with Hemingway-like dialogue sparkling like a Tiffany’s diamond; it might actually be that I just had more of an idea what the hell was going on by Chapter 25.
My new character - Dr Styles - is now firmly embedded within the text and with his inclusion, the book’s structure is now taking on a fully formed shape.
Just in case you’ve forgotten, I have broken my second draft into three stages. The first was a read through with red pen in hand, marking out all the structural inconsistencies and contradictions. The second period - seven weeks in total - is the re-write based purely on structural changes (i.e no prose polishing).
This has proved to be harder than anticipated. The temptation to re-write passages that while structurally correct, look about as polished as the floor of my local kebab house at 3am on a Saturday, has been very strong.
Yet if writing to deadlines teaches you anything, it’s how to stick to time constraints. So with a little luck, and the age old tradition of working too many hours in the day or so before deadline, by this time next week I will (have to) have got to the end of the middle stage of my second draft.
I then get to take a full seven days off. The idea being that you lay aside your novel completely so that when you return a week later to write the second draft properly, you approach with the fresh eyes.
It will also be my last break for four and a half months. After that, I have a clear run through the summer to finish my second draft and then write the third and final draft, to be completed by the end of week 52 on 20th September.
But that’s all in the future - and better not to dwell on too much. For now, I need to get to the end of my current task - take a week off - and then begin what I hope will be the enjoyable task of writing the second draft.
It’s a lot of work - and there will undoubtedly be many temptations in the summer to distract me from my task - but at the end of it, what would I rather have: a sun tan or a novel?
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