You get asked some strange questions in this business. My number one of recent times is the chap at a UK literary festival who asked me, ‘Wouldn’t your books be easier to read if the people didn’t have Italian names?’
Well, I guess…
Here’s another weird one: how long does it take you to write a book?
Wrong question altogether. To explain why let me do something I like to try from time to time in an effort to understand this strange trade: compare it with other art forms. Take art itself. I suppose people did ask Caravaggio how long it took him to paint his masterpieces but they probably got a punch in the mouth in return. Artists spend an enormous time sketching out possibilities, throwing them away, trying them out a little, reworking them, mixing their paints, choosing their brushes, their canvas, their easel, their studio, thinking. The hours spent applying the paint you see in the finished article are the tip of the iceberg. Without all that stuff underneath the thing would never have been finished in the first place.
Stories, too, require foundations, preparatory work, reflection time. All of that is part of the project. Thinking that the only way you can advance the thing is by putting words on the page is frankly ridiculous. What matters is that the work is always, always alive — even, or perhaps especially, if you’re not writing a word. Bubbling away somewhere in your head, getting richer, firing your imagination, sprouting more possibilities.
There are times when a writer should walk away from a project altogether and get some space and perspective and I’ll set down some thoughts on them one day. But the most immediate problem most of us face is a simpler, more direct one: how do you maintain some life and enthusiasm in a work in progress, particularly when you haven’t the faintest clue what to write next or the time to keep on top of it?
Answer: you keep it with you, always, like fluff in the pocket, something that never goes away. Serious writing must mean the dividing line between work and leisure is pretty much gone forever. If you’re not willing to accept that give up now. I started writing these words in my hotel room at the Vancouver International Writers and Readers Festival. I got the idea for this post over breakfast, a few minutes ago. It was a beautiful day outside with a wonderful-looking festival on my doorstep. People kept telling me to go to Victoria or the wine district. It’s now four days later, I’m in Vancouver airport, waiting for my flight home, and I’m finishing this article. I never got time to much except go downtown — but I did write a lot. I have to. That’s what I do.
As always I’ve a little laptop with me – a MacBook Air in my case. I also have a note taking application on my Phone, a camera and, when things get desperate, pen and paper (though since I lose physical notepads all the time the latter is definitely third best).
When I see or think something that’s relevant to my current work schedule I make a note about it there and then. No procrastination. No… I’ll do that later after I have lunch, or do the markets, or go listen to Margaret Atwood.
That’s death. I’m a lazy sod at heart. Either it won’t happen at all or it will be an afterthought, nowhere near as complete as it was when the bright spark first lit up.
We have so many ways of getting down thoughts these days. Through a computer, a phone or just a simple voice note. And by keeping that thought you do two things: preserve it for the future, and subtly remind yourself there’s still a work supposedly in progress.
Here are some other things you can do if you’re feeling stuck.
- Print out the pages so far and try and see them through the eyes of a reader. You’ll be amazed, too, how different things look when they’re ink on paper, not dots on a screen.
- Go through the notes in your book diary (you are keeping one?) and see if somewhere along the line you haven’t let a thread that once seemed important fall by the wayside. I’ll be very surprised if you haven’t and it may be an important thread.
- Try and get some perspective on the piece by asking yourself how it would look if it were written differently. What would it be like if you switched, say, from first person to third? If some of your characters were male instead of female, young instead of old, black instead of white? Dream a little, go off-piste.
- Think of a later scene in the story, one you know is going to take place, and see if you can map it out and maybe even write it.
Budding authors come up with a million excuses why their books stay unfinished. No time, someone sick in the family, a crisis of confidence, problems at work, someone else’s manuscript to read in the book group. But the biggest reason books go unfinished is a very simple one: people just don’t get around to writing them.
The old whine — I don’t have time because I don’t write for a living — doesn’t cut any ice. I do write for a living and let me tell you I’ve never had so little free time in my life — or enjoyed myself more. Beginner or pro we all have to make good use of what we have and cut out the excuses.
Oh, and for your own good don’t get swallowed up by Facebook and Twitter either, for those places are, if overused, the biggest cemetery of unfinished manuscripts there is.
