How Not to Outline a Novel

Hi, I’m Amber Eve — author of smalltown romantic comedies, and my long-running blog, Forever Amber. If you’d like to know more about me, start here. If you’d like to hear more from me, meanwhile, hit the button below (or ‘smash’ it, as my 7-year-old would say…)

There was no newsletter last week, because, instead of writing, I’ve mostly been frantically decluttering my house, in a transparent attempt to feel like I’m in control of something in my life, even though I am blatantly not in control of anything in my life right now.

It’s because of Christmas.

Yes, already.

It might only be the whatever-it-is of November, but I’m already finding myself constantly performing the complicated mental gymnastics that comes with questions like:

• If we’re out every single weekend from now until January, when will we put up the Christmas tree?

• If Max has six Christmas events at school, and four of them require Christmas jumpers, but he also has Christmas events every weekend and now also on some weeknights, how many Christmas jumpers do I need to buy him, and how will I afford this?

• When will I wash my hair?

• If we have social events on Sunday, Tuesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday of one week (And the rest of the month is looking much the same…), but I’m an introvert who needs more downtime than that, is it reasonable for me to just declare that I will not be even attempting to work in December? Or, you know, January?

• If we’re seeing the same group of people multiple times, what the hell do I wear to each event to avoid looking like I’m starring in my very own version of Groundhog Day? And what do I feed them that takes account of the fact that I can’t cook? Wine? Can I just give them wine? OK, what if it’s mulled wine? Does that work?

Unfortunately for me, however, the answers to some of these problems continue to prove elusive, which is why I’ve been obsessively decluttering my house. I feel like if I can just clear out every single cluttered drawer and cupboard in order to make way for the influx of STUFF I know will be coming our way in December, I will be able to breathe more easily, and possibly even sleep at night without having recurring nightmares in which it’s the school nativity, and Max and I both turn up in non-Christmas themed pyjamas because my Tetris-like diary for the month has let me down, and everything’s descended into chaos.

And I HATE chaos.

(Note to self: buy Christmas pyjamas…)

(Addendum to note: Maybe buy two pairs, just in case the school springs a surprise ‘PJ Day’ on us without warning again?1)

Given everything I’ve just said about chaos, and control, and my desperate need to turn one into the other, you’d think I’d be an expert plotter by now, wouldn’t you? And I’ve tried; really, I have.

I desperately want to be a plotter. The idea of having a carefully-structured outline that I just have to sit down and add words to (A bit like I used to do as a ghostwriter) appeals to the part of me that craves order; the part whose reaction to stress is to clean her house and reorganise her cupboards. I am a person who likes things neat. I like to have a plan.

But when it comes to writing books, all of that goes out of the window. I just can’t do it, guys. I can’t seem to bring order to this particular brand of chaos. And, as proof of this, having just spent however long its been working on a single plot outline, this week I decided to scrap almost everything I’ve come up with so far and start again, only with a completely different love interest.

From this, I learned two important things:

1. There’s an almost infinite number of ways any particular plot can develop. And if you spend enough time thinking about it, your brain will start to suggest to you that every single one of them is better than the version you originally decided on. For instance, this book I’m currently working on could be either a romcom, a thriller, or a mystery, depending on how I write it. And the fact that I secretly want it to be ALL of these things is … not fun. Not fun at all.

2. I am probably not a ‘plotter’, much as I would like to be.

The thing is, though, I’m not really a ‘pantser’2 either. I mean, I DO need to have at least SOME idea of where the story’s going to go before I can start writing it, but … I think I might be at the point now where I just need to start WRITING the thing and figure out the details as I go.

But I’m probably going to have to clear out at least two more cupboards before I can do that. And I’m also going to have to buy at least one more Christmas jumper, all of Max’s birthday gifts, and perform some more diary-Tetris in order to find time for all of the various things that have been added to our schedule since I started writing this newsletter.

And, once I’ve done all of that, I can start writing the book.

I hope.

Thanks for reading,