But Even the Good Go Wrong...

Thinking about advice, and the comments after the last post, and a little niggle of doubt started to form somewhere in my gut.  I'm guilty of giving advice that hasn't worked for the writer and which has put them off.  

The first time I can think of, I completely misjudged the situation.  I was told that the story wasn't autobiographical and like a dimwit I took the statement at face value.  Oh dear.  I can't remember the details, but in the text the narrator appeared to loathe her parents which I commented on.  It did not go down well.  I stuck to my point; what was written on the page was loathing, and if the writer wanted it to be loving, then the text needed changing.  This didn't go down well either.  

Actually, most of the time when things haven't gone well, it's been when there has been a strong autobiographical element.  The time I asked, 'Your narrator is coming across as rather shallow and immature - is that what you intended?'  was another low point as the comment was taken personally (in a rather shallow and immature way, I suppose).

So I know that I'm guilty of putting people off.  I'm sorry if that's you.  My intentions were to be helpful and useful, and I think the advice I've offered has been good.  But then, I would say that, wouldn't I?   

Who's Giving the Advice?

There's that old saying, those who can, do, those who can't, teach.  I obviously don't think that's true - I LOVE teaching, but I also write successfully - but I do worry sometimes about exactly who is doing the teaching.  

Recently I came across someone who is offering book doctoring services.  This person has never had a novel published, nor have they worked in publishing.  Their only qualifications are that they like doing it, and have worked on friends' novels to the point where they decided to charge for it.  

They may be brilliant - I hope they are.  When I was on my MA course I cheerfully handed out what I felt were incredibly insightful comments to fellow students.  With hindsight, I don't think the comments were that bad.  However, I recognise it was only later that I was able to offer anything truly useful as feedback, when I'd had enough experience of looking at manuscripts and working out feedback as well as writing my own novels and short stories.  

We all have to start somewhere.  But how can someone expect to offer something worth being paid for when their experience is so limited?  What really agitates me is that they're working for a well known literary consultancy which charges serious fees to would-be writers.  The answer has to be, if you're thinking of using a literary consultancy ask who is going to be giving the critique.  

Which Comes First - Cream or Jam?

I'm being side-tracked at the moment by sun and beaches and cream teas.  Which leads into the riveting discussion about the order you put your strawberry jam and clotted cream on your scone.  Is it jam first, or cream?  

I've always been a cream first person - the cream = butter, and that comes first - but this afternoon I got seduced into trying the jam before the cream.  It looked aesthetically pleasing (and tasted delicious).  Perhaps there isn't a right, or a wrong way, only the way you've always done it.  

Bit like writing a novel.  To plan, or not to plan?  Does it matter how you write it, so long as you get it written?  The answer has to be, no one will care, so long as your work is good.  How you pronounce scone, on the other hand - now that does matter.  

When Bad Advice is Good Advice

I loved my main tutor on my MA course. He gave me terrible advice.  Of course, he didn't mean for it to be terrible advice, but it was - for me.  A couple of examples:  

Halfway through Adultery for Beginners and feeling it was heavy going, I asked him if I should give up and pursue another idea I'd had.  He said yes.

I'd never say this to a student.  I think every one who ever tries to write a novel gets to a point when it seems grim and ghastly and any new idea appears fresh and shiny.  But that shiny new idea will be grim and grisly too at the 40,000 word point. I'd advise anyone to push on through.

When I'd finished the first draft of A for B he said it had been a useful experience, and now I'd got one novel under my belt, I should now ditch it and write another one.

Arghh.  Writing a novel is a huge investment of time and energy, and you can always re-write and make it better.  I've turned round novels several times, cutting characters, adding plot.  I'm not saying it's easy, but it's a darn sight easier than starting another one from scratch.  And quicker too.  

That's just a couple of examples I can remember.  I ignored all his advice, stuck with re-writing A for B, and it went on to be published round the world etc etc.  So, I think you could safely say he gave me bad advice.  

But it was useful because it was consistently terrible.  I learned to do the opposite of what he suggested, and that was the right choice for me.  Sometimes we need to be pointed in a direction for us to know that that direction is wrong.  Bad advice can be very good at clarifying what we really think, at what our instincts say is the right choice.  I loved that tutor - he gave me really good bad advice.

Learning about Writing

When I was doing my MA I asked if we were going to have any talks on craft techniques.  'Oh no,' came the lofty answer.  'We assume that anyone on the course already knows that sort of thing.'

Well, I thought I didn't, but it effectively shut me up at the time.  Now I think, what utter nonsense.  Learning about writing is an on-going process.  There isn't a finite set of answers that you can work your way through, ticking boxes, and by the time you get to the end of the list that's it - bing! - you know it all.  

I'm always learning.  It's one of the things I like about writing.  There's always something new.  Every time I read a book, or go to a lecture or hear another writer speak I learn something.  Sometimes it's a new approach to something I already know.  Sometimes it's a reminder.  And sometimes it's something completely new to me.  I love it!  

An acquaintance recently asked me what I did apart from writing, what my hobbies were.  I felt very dull indeed when I said I didn't have any, I just read and wrote.  (I remembered afterwards I do Pilates, but too late to redeem my terminal dullness. And I go to the cinema a lot, but I usually analyse the scripts in a rather nerdy way so I think that counts as writing related too.)  Thing is, unlike the director of the MA, I think there's so much to learn about writing you could never learn everything.   But it's an awful lot of fun finding out. 

 

Weaving Story Threads

One of the real joys about writing is when you write a section and realise that, without knowing it, you've set up the situation beforehand.  I love it when that happens.  But it doesn't always, and that's when you've got to thread through the different strands of the story. 

Index cards can be useful for this.  You can either allocate a symbol for each thread, or choose a colour, and then go through scene by scene marking where the threads appear.  You see very quickly if there are any holes, and where you need to add a mention of a particular thread to keep it going in the reader's mind.  

Another thing to check is how quickly a thread appears, and if it gets set up properly.  For example, towards the end of Adultery for Beginners I realised I was using colour to show how Isabel was changing and asserting her own independence when she chooses to paint the walls in the house strong yellows, blues and reds instead of magnolia.  I added a scene at the beginning where Neil and Isabel go to choose a sofa.  The main purpose of the scene is for them to discuss her job offer, but I added that Isabel wants to have an adventurous colour whereas Neil goes for a dull brown.  I also added that Neil is keen on texture, and wants a luxurious chenille - a hint of his interior character which will also emerge later.  

Sometimes threads are about plot, sometimes about characters, sometimes they'll be images o symbols.  All need to be woven in carefully to make a cohesive whole.    

Keeping the Energy for Your Book

I was at a dinner party a few months ago when the bloke next to me, on hearing I was a novelist started to tell me all about the novel he was writing.  I have to admit I glazed over - I like reading novels, not hearing about them - and I particularly lost interest when he told me he'd only written a couple of pages.  I hope he proves me wrong for his sake, but I doubt very much if that novel will ever get written. 

Writing a novel requires a lot of energy. 100,000 words or so takes a lot of typing even without the concentration on the story telling. Somehow you have to sustain your energy and enthusiasm for at least several months, if not several years.  Story telling is in part a desire to communicate.  If you’re doing that communication to all and sundry at dinner parties you’re dissipating the energy you need to keep going with your story. Worse, with frequent telling, you may become bored with your own story before you’ve got it written down.

So don’t tell anyone what it’s about. Keep that desire to yourself, communicate with the page, not chance met strangers. I’m frequently being asked about what I’m working on at the moment, and I usually shrug and say, it's a novel.  If some one pushes, I say something about it being more of the same stuff. People give up at that point (if they haven't already).  It's not being rude, it's about saving your energy and enthusiasm for the important stuff, the words you're writing, and not the words you're saying.