The Treasure Map

As a result of trying to develop and then plait my subplots together, my novel has put on considerable weight.

Only time will tell if the details and directions added overwhelm the story - but for now I celebrate that it seems rich, and alive, and fully formed.

Thank God. 1year and 4 months later.

I used my subplots to rebuild my book - what had to happen and where, ideally in the most dramatic order. I saw chapters which I could merge, steal from and kill off, events which travelled earlier and later. In Week One alone (it's set over a month) 12 Chapters reduced to 7).

Next is the monstrous Chapter Map - my skeleton. This involves some serious data mining.

My notes are everywhere; Trello (a great mind mapping tool), old word docs, track changes of current drafts, my phone, post its.

When I'm finished with this task, each scene will look something like this:

I've tried to master the art of the 3 Act structure, which guides you on where to place drama, road forks etc but I'm only loosely in line with it (A.K.A I don't completely understand how to do it).

The 'Ref', instantly reminds me of the gist.

'Sig' for 'Significance' which marks which subplots are involved and cross over. 'Obj' for 'Objects', apparently (acc to Robert Ray, a story without objects is rubbish (repeated objects become symbols like Cinderella and her glass slipper).

A summary, and the location of the scene, and finally my mess of thoughts.

The volume of notes seems pretty indicative of the re-work involved, so it looks like CHP1 and I are going to be spending a lot of time together.

Having all of this info in one place allows me to do something incredibly valuable - planting. I am planting all over the shop. For example I've changed the time of year to just after Christmas. Why? Because it's cold, miserable, the lowest point - a perfect backdrop for a dark tale.

Little things like the Christmas trees I'll pick to stand in my characters' homes, will (in theory) speak volumes to the reader, their wealth, their personalities (the faithful show don't tell).

There are small plants; my protagonist is now a swimmer. She lane swims, early and often, to battle stress, to avoid people, to help keep her secrets quiet. So I push this in here and there, scenes where her hair is wet, where her boyfriend remarks that she always smells like chlorine, her towel drying on the radiator, boiling over when she can't find the time.

Routines make people.

Some chapters have few notes so far:

Unsurprisingly 'Ted Intro' includes no subplots, out of a possible 6, inferring that there's no story here. It may contain a rather pretty depiction of the coast (if I do say so myself) but in its current form, it slows the story. This forces me to choose; is it a waiting platform, desperate to help a subplot or two on their merry way, or is it destined for the scrapheap.

CH23 will certainly require some thought:

So, if I manage to continue to crack on (and don't lose my mind in the process) my third draft of 'Dollis' will be ready by the end of June, and nervously passed over to a select group of readers.

Roll on June.

Losing the plot

.....and finding the subplots. All six of the snaky bastards.

For the past few weeks I've been focusing on isolating the mini stories, the vines of drama, the secrets, motives and conflicts which have entwined themselves around my plot.

The first is the journey of my antagonist, a bratty fifteen year old girl intent on taking my protagonist down. I traced her steps through my second draft, when she shows up and why, when she wins and loses ground, where she is irrelevant and where she is threatening to take over the whole show. Bad antagonist.

I thought this would be a tedious but ultimately hugely beneficial exercise. It was hugely beneficial. It was also very, very tedious. (Yes, I am still reticent when elbow grease is required).

I started to get to know Ashley (a.k.a Subplot 1). She became crueler. She stole from her mother. She lied about where her Dad was, changing it to suit her mood; he was dead, he was missing, he was a wanted man. I figured out her back story and noted in down. Chapters grew richer; new, better ideas replaced shaky ones. Because I took the time to hang out with her exclusively, it was easier to see what she was lacking, what she would do when backed into a corner, the words she would use to wound.

Instead of growing dizzy trying to stare down the whole book at once, I was zoomed in, focused, and seeing one aspect clearly.

The epiphany's were great. But the problems followed fast. Ashley shows up on pg 103. As the main obstacle for my antagonist to battle, a pretty lazy entrance. So I would have to move her up, significantly, naturally. She also takes her time to cause drama, time I can't afford to lend (and the reader won't care for). Loose ends aplenty. Entire chapters tentatively ejected to the rubbish pile for the greater good.

I re-made the table, breaking and re-setting bones.

I loyally followed the advice of my bible, 'The Weekend Novelist' and tried to see each action like the scenes of a film:

Ashley’s House. A loves H, fascinated by P, cruel to M.

CUT TO

Ashley’s House. A reveals her investigation. H is unhappy. A tries to look like H.

CUT TO

Out of Town. H secret meeting with M to address concern about A. M is dismissive.

CUT TO

Ashley’s bedroom. A knows about secret meeting, tells lies, steal’s H’s phone.

CUT TO

Hannah’s family home. A turns up trying to interview G after second girl missing.......

And so forth.

I have endured this for four subplots over two weeks. My brain is white noise. My book is like something I spilt on the floor. Once the subplots are fully realised I'll have to put the story back together again, Humpty Dumpty style.

I wish I was Jack Kerouac, who put his hands on his type typewriter for three weeks and pushed a book out. (A crazy book, but a great book all the same. I like it a lot - On The Road )

Alas I am not Jack, and so the fight continues between my desire to finish this and my innate laziness.

I'll leave you with one of my favourite pieces of writing from Kerouac, and get back to an evening in the delightful company of Subplot 5.

“[...]the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

A real page turner

Last week I stumbled across Robert J. Ray's 'The weekend Novelist Redrafts the novel,' in an unpacked box and had a quick skim. I can see exactly why past me had purchased it, lured in by the title, then flung it into a dark corner after properly reading a few pages. The book reeks of hard work. It asks for time. It demands that consideration be given to things like archetypes and subtext.

Past me saw little value in things like that. Firstly (and this hasn't changed) I was hugely intimidated by words like these. My writing degree taught me a lot about my own voice, due to the three years I'd paid to get familiar with it, but very little about what lies behind the words. The teachers were keen to encourage us to lock ourselves away and put pen to paper, but imparted limited advice on the actual craft.

Secondly, past me very firmly believed that great writing was a kind of magic; a slippery, elusive thing which chose to arrive and disappear beyond my control, but, when it was there, it would be flawless, gifted, the plot, characters etc. all prettied up and neat.

Past me was a naive idiot.

The only reason I picked up 'The weekend Novelist,' and instead of throwing it, held it close (this time around) is because I finally have a draft deserving of all that the book requests.

Yes, editing is still an uneasy task for me; I have a lot to learn, and wrap my unwieldy mind around. And past me is still in there somewhere, huffing and puffing about how I just need to crack on and write instead of messing around with scene profiles and antagonists. But present me realises that this prize winning book lark is less about a beautiful sentence here and there, and much more about structure, and chronology and core story. Sadly (I would prefer an easier route).

I feel like the past 6 months have been about arming myself with the tools to push on; a digital writing group which has transcended into good friends who also write, Scrivener, a bookshelf of 'How to' books which actually work for me, and my Study; a space of my own.

I think I'm going to spend a lot of time with Robert J. Ray. Thanks to him (and the other brilliant things listed above), not getting picked for the Jerwood Mentorship didn't feel crushing. The news briefly slowed me down until I thought, 'Right, I guess it's back to work then.'

'If not you, who?
If not now, when?'
~Hillel The Elder~

Suggested reading....for inspiration....
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
Fear of Flying - Erica Jong
Beat Poets - Carmela Ciuraru

For getting on with it...

Writing Down the Bones - Natalie Goldberg
The weekend Novelist Redrafts the novel - Robert J. Ray
A Writer's Book of Days - Judy Reeves