Posts Tagged ‘Nailing Cats to Trees’

Wordsparks #003: Maps, territories and 3D Space

Saturday, June 5th, 2010

Here is an exercise that seeks to draw out a character’s inner landscape via their external, so they become a product of place, just as we all are.

Have you ever looked at one of your characters, peered at them between the words on the page, a bit like a kid at a fence, and found they aren’t quite real yet?

We’ve all had it, but to some extent it’s a bit like looking at the tomato plants you’ve grown from seed and, after four weeks of healthy growth, calling it a ‘problem’ that there are no tomatoes yet. They’ll get there in their own time, of course, you just have to maintain the right conditions.

It’s the same with your characters, they need the warmth of your continued attention, patience and some kind of nourishment. Many exercises suggest profiling – the interrogation of your character using a series of questions that look at, say, personality, past, likes and dislikes, ambitions etc. This can be very useful, and it works because it makes you look inwards – into the character – to get a sense of what you might call their internal landscape.

But we can also turn that on its head and instead look outward. In Writing Fiction, Janet Burroway says ‘…just as character and plot are interlinked, so character itself is a product of place and culture.’ This exercise seeks to explore those links. It might have particular appeal to writers whose minds work visually. (Or who like crayons.)

A creative map I drew for 'Nailing Cats to Trees,' a short story I'm working on. I used 'bubbles' to represent the three most significant places to the character and explored how they connected.

A creative map I drew for 'Nailing Cats to Trees,' a short story I'm working on. I used 'bubbles' to represent the three most significant places to the character and explored how they connected. I learnt some new things about interconnection within the piece, and it also helped me locate the 'fuzzy' areas.

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Extract from ‘Nailing Cats to Trees.’ (Work in Progress.)

Sunday, May 16th, 2010

 

She stepped off the bus unable to remember any of the ride home. All she’d thought about was how to put Ste’s invitation to her parents. It was important, she’d decided, for her to show that she had pre-empted their fears, but at the same time to play them down. Her argument was ready, refined to three stages: First, a calm, reasonable and confident approach.  Second, the statement of Ste’s invitation. Thirdly, the mediation: she was on top of exam revision, Ste was a good, responsible friend, they were going to pick her up and bring her back.

She pushed through the front gate, and almost collided with Dad who was coming out of the shed.

‘What’s up?’ she asked pinning herself against the wall to let him pass. Something was wrong; she could see it in his face. She watched him disappear round the side of the house. He was wearing marigold gloves and was carrying pliers. She carried on inside.

In the kitchen, water thundered into the sink. Lucy went in just in time to see Mum take Craig’s arms roughly and plunge them into the lather.

‘Scrub them!’ she ordered, passing him a nailbrush.

Typical, thought Lucy. In trouble again. Her brother was thirteen, three years younger than her. Craig spent a lot of time in the garden – they weren’t really allowed out of the house on their own except to go to school. Perhaps he’d been playing near the septic tank again.

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Bullet-Biting, Out-of-Body-Experiences and Eureka Moments.

Saturday, August 15th, 2009

About a year and a half ago I was busy writing a novel – an idea started over ten years earlier. It has become a familiar pattern. Every now and then the novel pays a visit. I pick it up for a few months and find myself writing ‘up to my bar,’ until, like an out of shape jogger, I find I have to let it run on ahead and leave me to catch my breath. Usually, I return to short stories until my confidence has recovered.

The last time I worked on ‘Making Sense of Stories,’ I had the benefit of working with a mentor. I learnt about pace and of relinquishing the urgency I had actively encouraged when crafting short stories. I saw my stories change: there’s an easiness in them that I couldn’t create before. I see it comparing this year’s ‘Nailing Cats to Trees,’ with ‘50p for the Aquarium,’ from several years ago.

I pushed on with the novel for about six months, but it had a problem. I knew it was there and had a fairly good idea of what it was, but you know what it’s like when a page is full of words that you’ve put there. You can’t see out, you can’t step back, because, like an incantation, you’ve just worked so hard to immerse yourself in it and now it won’t let you go even though you need it to. And it’s not simply a case of being unable to ‘murder your darlings,’ – there’s nothing to say what’s a darling and what isn’t – it’s all jumbled together in one big Eton Mess.

I decided to set it aside for a while, yes, because I was knackered, but also because I know what happens when I write on with something that I’m unsure about. The pages slowly build, but they all need deleting afterwards.

In a nutshell, in the novel, a twenty-one year-old has a crack at growing up and partially succeeds. It’s in first person, so the voice has to be true to her age and experience, but also leave room for growth. That bit wasn’t too bad. The problem was I also created a narrator who some readers wanted to slap – myself included – almost from the outset.

So what? She’s going to change, she’s learning, she’s human and we all have slappable characteristics … but it’s like real life: some people are idiots and you love them deeply, some people are idiots and you resent the breath it takes to say their name. I could imagine 50% of my readers losing interest before they saw how she was changing.

Eighteen months passed and last weekend I read the draft again and had a kind of Out-Of-Body Experience. I wasn’t woven into the story anymore – I could float above it, high in the air over Colmesey and look down at the bay, the town, at the characters, at the story. I had regained perspective.

I had known there was a problem with chronology, but eighteen months ago there was no room for manoeuvre, my brain couldn’t cope with the chain reaction that would start with a ‘simple’ change at the beginning. But now I can see it not only needs to be done, but it won’t actually be that horrendous to implement.

And the problem with the narrator’s voice. Duh. The solution was blummin’ obvious. I am making a new start on a new start…