It’s a strange thing, starting a new book. However much I’ve thought about my story idea, however long I’ve wrestled with the outline (which is about as much formal planning as I do), it’s still a challenge to get into the guts of the thing. It’s like getting to know a new place, or a new person. You learn as you go along, asking questions, trying things out, listening, looking. And bit by bit the essence emerges and you begin to understand what’s going on.
With this book, I’ve got the setting in my head, but the characters are semi-formed — not even half developed. New ones keep popping up, and I have to find names for them and imagine what they look like. Rounded characters don’t seem to arrive until a bit later, or even a lot later; sometimes they don’t seem complete until the end, and I have to go back to the beginning, where they’re paper-thin, and add extra dimensions as the story develops.
I need to remind myself to keep focused on what kind of story this is going to be. It’s a psychological thriller (back to my favourite genre!) so I need to ensure there’s plenty of threat seeping into it from the very beginning. Even now, after nine books, it’s tempting to try to put all the backstory into the front of the book. That’s a no-no; it’s boring for the reader, even if it helps me to cement the background into my mind.
Nonetheless, that’s what I’m doing. I have to have the foundations in place before I can embark on the more ‘aesthetic’ parts of my structure. I’ll almost certainly return to the beginning of the book in the editing process and ensure the story starts quickly, but for now (continuing with the building metaphor) I’m cementing, providing the pillars and the struts on which the walls and the floors of my story will depend.
The other thing that happens at the beginning is that the story gets into my head. This is good, because it means that whatever I’m doing, wherever I am, my brain’s at work, trying out potential scenes, describing events, even crafting sentences. Borrowing people’s faces, their clothes, their accents. Weaving themes from news items into my own story.
I have to persuade myself at this stage to slow down, because the temptation is to run as fast as I can into the more dramatic parts of the story, before I’ve dealt properly with setting the scene. The dramatic parts draw me forward, and I find them much more exciting. Those are the parts of the book where the writing really flows, and I can achieve much more in a shorter space of time. If I can resist doing that, the editing process is easier, but if I can’t, it’s still okay because I can always go back and put more plaster on the walls later if I need to.
Of course, setting the scene is important. If I don’t do it, readers will be wondering where and who these random people are. They’ll lose interest before they reach the real drama. Having said that, the beginning always needs to make a promise to the reader: this is a psychological thriller, there will be jeopardy, there will be darkness, there will be twists. If that promise doesn’t come early enough in the book, the reader could easily switch off. But the promise can take the form of teasers — a comment here and there that sounds a little ambiguous, the shadow of a man watching from a distance, a strange, inexplicable occurrence. ‘Signposts’, if you like.
Signposts are fun. They indicate the type of story that’s to come, and make the reader wonder what comes next — and want to know what’s going on. I love signposts, and even though I’m not a planner, I enjoy using them to tease and tempt the reader into the story. Sometimes, it’s true, I get to the end and have to go back and add them in. Coming up with an effective signpost is sometimes tricky, but it’s immensely satisfying when you find the right one, the one that the reader will notice but not realise is actually an indication of what’s to come.
I’m ploughing on (mixed metaphor, I know). Even though I know it’s not right yet, and I’ll need to come back to the beginning and rework, adding and editing out. It’s the only way to get to the end. And this is one of the most important things to remember for a new writer. Just plough on. The first draft is just the beginning.
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