Images have always had a strong influence on my writing.
Perhaps it's partly because I've been taking photographs for almost as long as I've been playing with words. There's a natural overlap: a blurring of the boundaries between words and pictures.
Everyone keeps telling us writers today have to be multi-talented. It's not enough just to be a writer: you also need to know your RSS from your CMS, how to promote yourself (on and offline) as well as bake the perfect souffle.*
So to help us on our quest to become Renaissance (wo)men, we've recently had a couple of seminars on photography. One of our assignments was the challenge to seek out the beauty in everyday objects. The truth is that most of us walk around with our eyes closed half the time. The familiar becomes invisible.
The act of looking through a viewfinder helped to change our focus; it helped us to see the world with 'new eyes.' The images everyone brought back were intriguing, sparking off a discussion of how we interpret the world - and the difference one small thing can make.
Inspiration often comes from unexpected sources. A remark overheard on a bus. The smell of freshly baked bread which conjures up a long forgotten memory of your childhood. The way the light streaming through the window highlights the features of the person you love.
It's the details that really bring a piece of writing to life. Of course, this goes beyond the purely visual. The other senses are just as important.
As writers, we translate our vision of the world into words on the page. The challenge is to make the worlds we create as vivid as we can.
* Just kidding about the souffle part. I hope.
Saturday, 2 May 2009
Friday, 1 May 2009
The importance of place
Everyone has their special places.
Sometimes a place that gives you that comfortingly familiar feeling of belonging:a childhood haunt where the memories of your past float by like clouds across the sky. Sometimes it's a place you come across quite by accident. It might have a spectacular view, or perhaps it's just a little patch of quiet in the midst of a busy city.
Recently I've discovered a park at the top of my road. It's tiny: no more than a patch of grass surrounding a war memorial and a few benches. What really makes it is the view: the park looks out over the harbour. At dusk, I like to sit and watch the dying rays of the sun glinting on the water as it sinks towards the horizon. It's a perfect place to sit and write, or think.
As a writer, it's important to be aware of the world around you - and often that means getting out there. Leaving the cocoon of your bedroom, study, kitchen, or wherever it is that you usually write and setting out on a voyage of discovery.
While travelling to another country can be an incredible, inspirational experience, there's a lot to be said for rediscovering the familiar. Finding the exotic in the ordinary. As Proust says:
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”
Sometimes a place that gives you that comfortingly familiar feeling of belonging:a childhood haunt where the memories of your past float by like clouds across the sky. Sometimes it's a place you come across quite by accident. It might have a spectacular view, or perhaps it's just a little patch of quiet in the midst of a busy city.
Recently I've discovered a park at the top of my road. It's tiny: no more than a patch of grass surrounding a war memorial and a few benches. What really makes it is the view: the park looks out over the harbour. At dusk, I like to sit and watch the dying rays of the sun glinting on the water as it sinks towards the horizon. It's a perfect place to sit and write, or think.
As a writer, it's important to be aware of the world around you - and often that means getting out there. Leaving the cocoon of your bedroom, study, kitchen, or wherever it is that you usually write and setting out on a voyage of discovery.
While travelling to another country can be an incredible, inspirational experience, there's a lot to be said for rediscovering the familiar. Finding the exotic in the ordinary. As Proust says:
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”
Thursday, 23 April 2009
All the fun of the fair
The London Book Fair wasn't entirely what I'd been expecting. Most of the exhibition space seemed to be full of people having meetings; the books themselves made up an attractive backdrop. Were they agents brokering deals? Authors pitching to publishers? It felt as though we'd wandered into a members only club; at any moment, someone might come along and kindly ask us to leave.
But the seminar sessions were what we'd really come from. With this year's focus on children's/teen writing, I was hoping I'd pick up a few tips from people at the heart of the industry.
Highlights of the Fair included meeting Patrick Ness and Meg Rosoff, two of my favourite writers of teenage fiction. I managed to get hold of a signed pre-release copy of Ness's much anticipated follow up to The Knife of Never Letting Go, The Ask and the Answer. The temptation to find a quiet corner where I could curl up and start reading was difficult.
Interestingly, Ness said he never intended to write for teens - that was just how it turned out. He believes that you have to listen to the story and write the story 'as it's being told,' rather than setting out to write something for a specific market. Once he found the voice, he found the story, and to his surprise, it turned out to be a novel for teenagers.
We've spent a lot of time looking at plot and structure of the novel as part of the MA course. While the theory is fascinating - you can pinpoint why something works, or doesn't - almost all the authors we've met so far have said you just need to write what you want to write.
Meg Rosoff described the process of writing a novel as 'A voyage of discovery for the writer.' She doesn't plan her novels, but starts off with an idea and writes a 'sketchy' first draft, during which her ideas develop.
On one hand, this is appealing. It feels creative, authentic just to write whatever you feel compelled to write. But does this mean the work will suffer as a result?
To plot, or not to plot, that is the question...
Perhaps it's just that the most sucessful writers simply have an instinctive sense of structure. They may not consciously or specifically plan out their novels, but nevertheless, the structure is there.
But the seminar sessions were what we'd really come from. With this year's focus on children's/teen writing, I was hoping I'd pick up a few tips from people at the heart of the industry.
Highlights of the Fair included meeting Patrick Ness and Meg Rosoff, two of my favourite writers of teenage fiction. I managed to get hold of a signed pre-release copy of Ness's much anticipated follow up to The Knife of Never Letting Go, The Ask and the Answer. The temptation to find a quiet corner where I could curl up and start reading was difficult.
Interestingly, Ness said he never intended to write for teens - that was just how it turned out. He believes that you have to listen to the story and write the story 'as it's being told,' rather than setting out to write something for a specific market. Once he found the voice, he found the story, and to his surprise, it turned out to be a novel for teenagers.
We've spent a lot of time looking at plot and structure of the novel as part of the MA course. While the theory is fascinating - you can pinpoint why something works, or doesn't - almost all the authors we've met so far have said you just need to write what you want to write.
Meg Rosoff described the process of writing a novel as 'A voyage of discovery for the writer.' She doesn't plan her novels, but starts off with an idea and writes a 'sketchy' first draft, during which her ideas develop.
On one hand, this is appealing. It feels creative, authentic just to write whatever you feel compelled to write. But does this mean the work will suffer as a result?
To plot, or not to plot, that is the question...
Perhaps it's just that the most sucessful writers simply have an instinctive sense of structure. They may not consciously or specifically plan out their novels, but nevertheless, the structure is there.
Friday, 10 April 2009
Black Swan Green
Intially I was sceptical. I'd read David Mitchell's much-celebrated Cloud Atlas some time ago, and I didn't think much of it. Perhaps I would look at if differently now. But I'd been given Black Swan Green - with a glowing recommendation - so I thought I'd give it a try. I loved it.
It's the narrative voice that makes this novel. It's 1982, and Mitchell's narrator, Jason Taylor is thirteen. Jason's voice is authentic and engaging. The everyday details of his life become something more than the sum of their parts due to the strength of the narrative voice. You're immediately drawn into his world all the issues surrounding growing up: making friends, discovering who you are - and trying to uncover the mysteries of the opposite sex. The novel also deals with more difficult issues such as bullying, divorce, racism and the effects of the Falklands War upon a small community.
Mitchell's liberal use of italics for emphasis helps to bring Jason's voice to life. The contrast between what Jason says and what he thinks is revealing, amusing and sometimes painfully poignant. Jason has a secret - he writes poetry - and a stammer, both of which he's keen to keep under wraps. Any weakness would be mercilessly exploited by the in-crowd. Black Swan Green depicts the tyranny of the adolescent society in detail so vivid you feel it.
It's the sign of a good novel that when you reach the last page you feel a certain sense of loss that here's no more. It's like any other enjoyable, finite experience. You want it to continue, although at the same time, there's a part of you that knows if you did carry on, it wouldn't be quite as pleasurable.
I turned the last page of Black Swan Green reluctantly.
It's the narrative voice that makes this novel. It's 1982, and Mitchell's narrator, Jason Taylor is thirteen. Jason's voice is authentic and engaging. The everyday details of his life become something more than the sum of their parts due to the strength of the narrative voice. You're immediately drawn into his world all the issues surrounding growing up: making friends, discovering who you are - and trying to uncover the mysteries of the opposite sex. The novel also deals with more difficult issues such as bullying, divorce, racism and the effects of the Falklands War upon a small community.
Mitchell's liberal use of italics for emphasis helps to bring Jason's voice to life. The contrast between what Jason says and what he thinks is revealing, amusing and sometimes painfully poignant. Jason has a secret - he writes poetry - and a stammer, both of which he's keen to keep under wraps. Any weakness would be mercilessly exploited by the in-crowd. Black Swan Green depicts the tyranny of the adolescent society in detail so vivid you feel it.
It's the sign of a good novel that when you reach the last page you feel a certain sense of loss that here's no more. It's like any other enjoyable, finite experience. You want it to continue, although at the same time, there's a part of you that knows if you did carry on, it wouldn't be quite as pleasurable.
I turned the last page of Black Swan Green reluctantly.
Saturday, 4 April 2009
The Writer's Apprentice
I've just got back from my first two-week stint of my apprenticeship with language consultancy firm The Writer.
They took me out for coffee and let me ask lots of questions. They also asked me lots in return. After all, fair's fair.
I loved the buzz in the office. Oh, and the cake. They're all rather fond of cake. Which can only be a good thing as far as I'm concerned. I met clients, sat in on a tone of voice workshop and participated in a couple of naming brainstorms.
And then they put me to work.
Time to put theory into practice. I worked with several people in the team, helping out with projects for major clients. This gave me an insight into the type of work they do and the process from initial brief to finished copy.
I enjoyed having my own briefs to work on. It's quite a different experience working on a live brief, rather than an assignment. For one thing, you don't have the luxury of time. No procrastination. (I might have made tea a couple of times, but that's just fulfilling the requirements of any work experience assignment).
Then came the feedback. Seeing my creative efforts covered with red pen was a new experience. At school, generally I just got a tick at the bottom of my work. But the last few months of critiquing have shown me that you need to use whatever you can to help improve what you write. You can't be precious about your writing.
Everyone gets someone else to look at their copy. Often, there are things you can't see yourself because you're too close to it. Another pair of eyes always helps. Sometimes I was called on to be that extra pair of eyes - and they were interested in what I had to say. Perhaps for the first time, I felt like a writer, not a student.
They took me out for coffee and let me ask lots of questions. They also asked me lots in return. After all, fair's fair.
I loved the buzz in the office. Oh, and the cake. They're all rather fond of cake. Which can only be a good thing as far as I'm concerned. I met clients, sat in on a tone of voice workshop and participated in a couple of naming brainstorms.
And then they put me to work.
Time to put theory into practice. I worked with several people in the team, helping out with projects for major clients. This gave me an insight into the type of work they do and the process from initial brief to finished copy.
I enjoyed having my own briefs to work on. It's quite a different experience working on a live brief, rather than an assignment. For one thing, you don't have the luxury of time. No procrastination. (I might have made tea a couple of times, but that's just fulfilling the requirements of any work experience assignment).
Then came the feedback. Seeing my creative efforts covered with red pen was a new experience. At school, generally I just got a tick at the bottom of my work. But the last few months of critiquing have shown me that you need to use whatever you can to help improve what you write. You can't be precious about your writing.
Everyone gets someone else to look at their copy. Often, there are things you can't see yourself because you're too close to it. Another pair of eyes always helps. Sometimes I was called on to be that extra pair of eyes - and they were interested in what I had to say. Perhaps for the first time, I felt like a writer, not a student.
Sunday, 15 March 2009
A meeting with a literary legend
I've just met Audrey Niffenegger.
When I heard she was speaking at a conference in Falmouth (about illustration, rather than writing), I jumped at the chance to meet the author of one of my all-time favourite books.
The Time Traveller's Wife had me spellbound. When I mentioned it to someone recently, he said, "That's the book that makes men cry." I haven't actually met any lachrymose men, but I'm sure they're out there. And I have to confess I did have a few misty-eyed moments of my own while reading it. A tear might even have been shed at one point.
Niffenegger was vivacious, opinionated and engaging. Despite having participated in a day long conference, she made time to speak to the fans who gathered for a chance to speak to her. I spoke to her about her experiences of becoming a publishing sensation - news has just broken about her multi-million dollar deal for her second novel. You can read the full interview here.
When you're starting out as a writer, the more people you can speak to about the industry, the better. Some of the visiting speakers we've had have portrayed a bleak picture of the publishing industry, so it's nice to meet someone who's actually made it.
That said, there's also a huge element of chance involved. No-one could have anticipated the huge success of The Time Traveller's Wife. Audrey Niffenegger originally thought the novel would sell around 5,000 copies. "I wanted to write a novel and be published. My expectations really ended there." The Today show in the US and Richard and Judy were what catapulted it into the stratosphere.
It's not easy to get published. But that's no reason to give up - you'll never know until you try. As Niffenegger says: "If you think you want to write novels, just get on with it." Wise words.
When I heard she was speaking at a conference in Falmouth (about illustration, rather than writing), I jumped at the chance to meet the author of one of my all-time favourite books.
The Time Traveller's Wife had me spellbound. When I mentioned it to someone recently, he said, "That's the book that makes men cry." I haven't actually met any lachrymose men, but I'm sure they're out there. And I have to confess I did have a few misty-eyed moments of my own while reading it. A tear might even have been shed at one point.
Niffenegger was vivacious, opinionated and engaging. Despite having participated in a day long conference, she made time to speak to the fans who gathered for a chance to speak to her. I spoke to her about her experiences of becoming a publishing sensation - news has just broken about her multi-million dollar deal for her second novel. You can read the full interview here.
When you're starting out as a writer, the more people you can speak to about the industry, the better. Some of the visiting speakers we've had have portrayed a bleak picture of the publishing industry, so it's nice to meet someone who's actually made it.
That said, there's also a huge element of chance involved. No-one could have anticipated the huge success of The Time Traveller's Wife. Audrey Niffenegger originally thought the novel would sell around 5,000 copies. "I wanted to write a novel and be published. My expectations really ended there." The Today show in the US and Richard and Judy were what catapulted it into the stratosphere.
It's not easy to get published. But that's no reason to give up - you'll never know until you try. As Niffenegger says: "If you think you want to write novels, just get on with it." Wise words.
Sunday, 8 March 2009
An unexpected twist in the plot
Sometimes it's strange how things turn out. You think you know where you're going, but then the landscape changes and you're left wondering where to go.
Or that's how I've been feeling lately. But it does make me wonder about all the choices I've made. So I sit here, at my laptop, staring into the void and wondering. The truth of the matter is that you can't ever really know - all you can do is make a choice and see where it leads you.
Because you have to make a choice. The worst thing is sitting on the fence, not choosing.
I've chosen to go back to my fantasy novel.
It's a like meeting an old friend, or perhaps an former flame whom you're still on good terms with. There's a kind of comforting familiarity mixed with the excitement that you feel when you haven't seen someone you're fond for some time.
I've found myself gripped by the story once more. I know there are things that need to be worked on - it's far from perfect - but it inspires me. I feel I now have the distance and the confidence to be ruthless with it, cutting scenes and tightening the prose. Like the early stages of a relationship, it's almost at the point where I can't bear to leave it.
And I guess that's the point of it all. There are countless other things we could be doing that would be easier - or more lucrative than writing for a living. Would any of us want to write at all if not for the passion it stirs within us?
Or that's how I've been feeling lately. But it does make me wonder about all the choices I've made. So I sit here, at my laptop, staring into the void and wondering. The truth of the matter is that you can't ever really know - all you can do is make a choice and see where it leads you.
Because you have to make a choice. The worst thing is sitting on the fence, not choosing.
I've chosen to go back to my fantasy novel.
It's a like meeting an old friend, or perhaps an former flame whom you're still on good terms with. There's a kind of comforting familiarity mixed with the excitement that you feel when you haven't seen someone you're fond for some time.
I've found myself gripped by the story once more. I know there are things that need to be worked on - it's far from perfect - but it inspires me. I feel I now have the distance and the confidence to be ruthless with it, cutting scenes and tightening the prose. Like the early stages of a relationship, it's almost at the point where I can't bear to leave it.
And I guess that's the point of it all. There are countless other things we could be doing that would be easier - or more lucrative than writing for a living. Would any of us want to write at all if not for the passion it stirs within us?
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