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Posts Tagged ‘Novel writing’

An article I posted two years ago:

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SPAM!

June 18, 2009 by lawrenceez  |

I have some fuzzy memories of Spike Milligan’s cafe scenes about not liking spam (a form of processed ham), but now I seem to be getting loads of Spam messages on my blog. How annoying.  My site is about music and the creative arts, like novel writing and story telling.

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Some things never change and the spammers are back again, pestering the site with their stupid comments.

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Haley Whitehall has asked me to write an article for her blog, so here goes. Haley is a writer, with interests in literature and history.

I’ve chosen to talk about tackling the doubts in novel writing, and the article might help others with a related subject that I’ve struggled with recently, writer’s block.

Here

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I’m at that part of the novel again, a psychological thriller, where I have to make a decision.  Concentrate on “mad” character building (old-fashioned/plot-based stuff) or wade through uncomfortable criminal material that’s more true to life.  After a lot of thought, I’ve decided to concentrate on the crime element.

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I’m reworking a psychological thriller and trying to include as many calm moments as possible in the story.  Too much tension, and the reader might lose interest. Too little, and the reader might get bored.  The general reader wants to identify with a character, and the writer needs to invite the readers into that character’s life.  Difficult, but a rewarding process.

The following is a short sample based around the central character’s sister and son.

In the morning, I go off to a country park with Mel and Robert The acorn trail with yellow fields on either side. We take photographs of deer and stop for a picnic lunch near a wooden hut. Purchase mugs and mint cake from a gift shop. Pencils and stencils and art paper for Mel. I buy a pair of cheap sunglasses for the fun of it and get Robert to take a photograph of me prancing about in the shades. It’s another crisp October day, sunny but nippy with the smells of pines and honey and cider apples.

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I’m at a significant point in my writing generally: the need for the central character to have normal life  and enjoy every day activities.  In a psychological thriller, this can be difficult to bring off.

In the following scene, central character Alan has just returned home after spending the night on a mate’s couch following an evening in the pub. The evening itself was intense.  Robert = Alan’s son, Mel = Alan’s sister, Samantha = Mel’s friend

I head to mine, gulp down a glass of tepid water from the sink and start the shower. Get in. Change into a fresh set of clothes and splash on some aftershave before going down to join Mel and Robert on the second floor. The interior of Samantha’s flat is different to mine or Mel’s: bean bags rather than chairs, knickknacks and ornaments on the shelves, glass coffee table with thick magenta candle stubs, paperbacks scattered on the floor, along with assorted shoes and trainers. Robert, I note, seems particularly sulky today, and hardly responds to anything I have to say, although he relates easily to Samantha. The four of us spend the morning making organic bread in the tiny kitchen area, Samantha chatting away barely, pausing for breath.

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Weather descriptions can create problems in novel writing, apparently. Too many, and the reader may lose  interest.  None, and the reader may find the scene setting lacking. 

Then there’s the Pathetic Fallacy. In some cases, the tone of the weather hints at what is to come.

Here’s a description of a storm taken from my second novel, a psychological thriller.  In this scene, the main character is driving his eight-year-old son home from school.

We barely talk on the way back. Jazz FM plays on the car radio, my favourite station. Those dissonances calming my mood, calming my mind. The journey, though, is rough, and the steadily darkening sky warn of a prairies-like storm  Rain falls down my windscreen, making it difficult to see.

The rain sweeps across the surrounding grass verges in a downpour, splattering on the road ahead. At Rupton village, lightning streaks across the horizon, capturing a frozen shot of The Factory in the valley below: brown, muddy-red brickwork with turret-like windows and a tall chimney to side. Thunder, then more lightning and another glimpse of The Factory with the metal fencing surrounding the car park and the cooling towers and pylon grid further on. Austere.  More thunder and lightning. Torrents of rain and gusts of wind. Snapping branches and soaked leaves strewn along pavements. The steep winding road to the bottom of the valley glazed from the rain, tiny streams of waters trickle down the hill to join the river at the other side.

‘Wow,’ Robert says.

‘You like?’

He nods, but doesn’t smile.

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Normally, I would say, “no way. Do not write about NDE’s in fiction under any conditions.”

However, I’ve searched my main character’s past and believe there are sufficient grounds for introducing one in his background following a near fatal accident the character had in his early twenties.  The central character is a tough guy, a former amateur rugby player, and somehow I feel that the experience will deepen his character.

NDE’s (Near-Death Experiences) can occur in a number of settings, often when a person comes close to death or when astronauts are training.  In some instances, a person may experience one during a faint.

Typically, the person “leaves” their body and observes scenes  from above.  Some people then travel down tunnels and/or encounter “spiritual” beings.”

Whether or not the person actually does leave their body is debatable. Mainstream scientists generally offer physical explanations. A small number of mainstream scientists, however, have suggested that consciousness as we understand it may not be totally reliant on the brain.  In other words, a person’s consciousness may literally separate from the body in certain circumstances.

Incredible stuff. Having read numerous accounts, I would say that some NDE’s sound like a mixture of buried memories whereas others are remarkable in the lucid recounting of details and the later clarification of events “observed”.

Here is a brief sample from my novel, a psychological thriller. 

I get up and leave, shivering outside as I walk across the hospital front in the freezing rain, the northern winds biting at my fingers and face, the downpour reaching deep into my trainers and socks. It’s nearly half four in the afternoon, and already almost dark, more like late autumn or early winter.  An ambulance rushes into the front area of the hospital, lights flashing, and pulls to a halt by the entrance. For a while, I stand watching in a type of daze, remembering another time when an ambulance pulled up in the clearing at the bottom of Whaley Hill to take me to hospital after Vince Macarthur’s revenge attack on me. I was unconscious when that other ambulance arrived in the rain and fog, yet I remember it arriving and the female paramedic who treated me at the scene. I watched from far off, floating above myself before drifting into blackness; the thickest blackness interrupted by more floating in the hospital; seeing my mother and Mel in the hospital lobby with Wayne’s mother and father, even though I was lying on a hospital bed unconscious with my eyes shut. Then, blackness followed and no further memories.

In the distance, I hear voices above the commotion and sounds of the storm: Gordon and Andy calling my name, their voices like those interrupting a dream, yanking me back to the now.

‘You’re soaking, man,’ Andy says. ‘Want to catch pneumonia?’

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I’m midway through my second novel, a psychological thriller. My main character Alan, a former tough guy who used to play rugby and football, has recently moved back to the north of England following the break up of his marriage and has got in touch with a former childhood friend. 

Alan witnessed a murder when he was ten, but has no recollection of the event.  A series of disturbances at his new home, a flat in a converted old factory in the countryside, prompt Alan to investigate the murder, but each move he makes results in further confusion. 

For instance, Alan meets a an elderly woman who played a significant role in his childhood, but he doesn’t remember the woman at all.  However, he recognises her post retirement house, even though he has never visited the house. Further, the interior seems strikingly familiar to Alan, reminding him of a house he only just remembers: the murderer’s. 

In tackling the matter, I hope to look deep within Alan’s mind – in particular, why certain seemingly insignificant things unsettle him so much, such as a vase in the wrong house.  I feel that the brief memory flashbacks in the story must capture Alan’s uncertainty and hint at the reasons for Alan’s fear, drawing on specific details that strike true fear in Alan’s heart.   This will mean cutting old redundant material and going deeper into Alan’s character.

Demanding, to be sure, but I’m managing about four to six hours a day of writing.

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Normal can mean different things….to me, it means having scenes where the main characters do normal things, like enjoying an afternoon out.

I always find these scenes the hardest to write, but I think they’re crucial.  In my second novel, the central character, a thirty-five-year-old man, has an eight-year-old son who is vulnerable.  In the most recent scene, he and his son, a keen photographer, go for a walk along a former railway track.  They take photos of the surrounding scenery and the father decides to spend the evening helping his son build photo collages.  

The scene acts as a calmer between the more chilling moments of the story, allowing the central character to evaluate his priorities and make time for his son.

Difficult, but rewarding.

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Digital photography enables people to crop photos using photo editing software.  The photographer will look at a photo, decide which part of the photo they’d like to display and cut the rest.  Certainly, I do.  All the time.

I think cropping can be applied to story telling.  Often, writers will have more than one central idea.  A combination of story ideas may work well in some novels, but not in others.  It may leave readers asking, whose story?

For a long time, my second novel, a psychological thriller, focused on two protagonists, but this led to clutter and confusion in places, and I had to decide to crop the novel and choose only one protagonist, developing the story along a single route. This meant eradicating large section of the former story.  Basically, it meant rewriting much of it and using only one plotline.  However, cutting most of the material has resulted in many new scenes and opportunities to take the story further. 

Early days, but I’m enjoying the process.

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