When I write I hear the words in my head.  Not just the dialogue but the narration too.  And I see the pictures, the locations, people, their clothes and so on.  I assume everybody does.  Working in radio I’ve noticed that there are sometimes differences between how I ‘hear’ what I’ve written and how an actor delivers it, and that always surprises me.  But I imagine as readers we each translate the marks on the page in our own way, with our own voices supplying that soundtrack as we follow the story.

For my novels I’m using speech recognition these days, reading aloud what I’ve written in longhand (I know – bizarre) through a microphone and into a Word document.  It’s a complete pain when the phone rings or there’s someone at the door or I get a sneezing fit but on the whole it’s quicker than me just typing it all up.  And staves off the RSI.  But I don’t really get to hear the flow of the writing in that part of the process, I’m reading it in quite a clipped and unemotional way in order to get the best accuracy.  Even then there are many errors (I’ll have to save some up for another post).  Once I’ve corrected the mistakes I read my work aloud.  Not only does it help me improve the rhythm and see how the pace changes but it’s great for spotting repetition and abrupt endings and weak sections.  Through pressure of work I don’t always get time to read everything out loud and then when the book is published and I perform a reading in public I notice all sorts of things I’d want to change if I only had the chance.

Here’s a list of my latest recommendations.  Hopefully there is something for everyone here as it’s quite a mix in terms of genre  – though fair to say half of them are crime fiction.  What they all share is a strong story, vivid characters and locations and accomplished writing.  What else could you ask for?  Happy reading.

Someone Else’s Skin by Sarah Hilary

The Universe Versus Alex Woods by Gavin Extence

The Stranger You Know by Jane Casey

Harvest by Jim Crace

The Cry by Helen Fitzgerald

Burial Rites by Hannah Kent

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

Trouble Man by Tom Benn

The Son by Philipp Meyer

Red Joan by Jennie Roonie

The Shock of the Fall by Nathan Filer

Keep Your Friends Close by Paula Daly

Last week I delivered the manuscript for my 20th novel.  Twentieth!  It’s hard to believe I’ve written that many.  One question people ask is whether it gets easier and I don’t think it does.  Harder perhaps, thinking up fresh situations that I haven’t explored before.  The process may be more familiar but the core activities of writing: finding characters, developing the story, choosing the words, shaping the material, editing and improving it, are still as challenging and as engaging as ever.  Some books flow more easily, others take a while to uncover.  In my mind I think the making of a novel is a combination of discovery and construction.  It’s like mining for an artefact that is buried and as you dig it out, you clean and sculpt and colour it until it feels complete.  I’ve no idea whether the ‘mining’ metaphor rings true for other people but it doesn’t matter.  As practitioners we all find out what methods work for us, whether we plot in advance or just start writing, when we edit, whether research precedes the writing or is done on the hoof, dipping into the internet as we go, whether we count the words or the pages, if we write chronologically or weave collages together, if we use particular software to help us with structure and continuity, whether we read aloud or dictate our work.  When I start afresh with each book I still need that leap of faith, a suspension of the critical voice that tries to undermine my efforts.  And when the book is written I have the all too familiar lurch of confidence while I wait for feedback, maybe even greater these days as with each new title there’s the hope it will be an improvement on what came before.  The buzz I get from writing remains just as strong and rewarding as it always was and I can’t imagine ever wanting to stop.

On occasion I’ve heard people say they don’t like books written in the first person (often when praising a title in that narrative style that they’ve just read).  I wonder why the resistance.  Do they find it uncomfortable to be so intimate with the character?  Is it hard to suspend disbelief and be inside another person’s head whose world view, attitudes and experiences may be a long way from their own?  Personally ‘walking in someone else’s shoes’ is one of the things I love about reading.  Although when I’m choosing a new book I don’t consciously think about what the point of view is.  Other factors – the cover, the blurb, the first page of writing, people’s recommendations – are much more significant.

But when I’m writing, the first elements I need to pin down are character and point of view.  Some stories I know instinctively* have to be a sole first person.  I want that intensity and focus, there is no doubt about whose story it is and it’s not to be shared.  My Sal Kilkenny series uses the first person POV as does The Kindest Thing, a book about a woman who is tried for murder after she helps her husband end his life.  The novel I’ve just finished, Letters to my Daughter’s Killer, which explores the question of whether it is possible to forgive a murderer, is also a first person account.  Other stories such as the Blue Murder and Scott and Bailey series and standalones like Split Second suit several third person points of view.  As a writer I find it refreshing to switch from spending months in the almost claustrophobic world of ‘I’ to the variety and freedom of ‘he’ and ‘she’.  And in my most recently published novel, Blink of an Eye, I’ve used two narrators, both written in the first person.

Does it matter to you?

*And sometimes I don’t.  Credit must go to my novel writers’ group who on reading the opening chapters of The Kindest Thing all agreed the only viewpoint they were at all  interested in was Deborah’s.  And so it came to be.

This week I am guest blogging over on Womens Writers,  Women’s Books.  Come see me there.

There are various techniques for building tension in a story: the use of foreboding, the ominous comments of hindsight, the race against time or the ticking clock set-up, the sudden reversal of fortune or the shock revelation that trips up the reader and changes what we understand of the narrative.  Writing in the present tense can also contribute to the breathless, fast-paced feel of a thriller.  With this technique there is neither foresight nor hindsight.  We do not have the bigger picture, only the frame by frame, chapter by chapter account.  Like the protagonist we are in the moment.  It’s a very modern style, well, I assume it is (people who know about the history of literature please correct me if I’m wrong).

I’ve written novels in the present tense and others in the past.  Sometimes I’ve found that changing to the present tense gives a better edge to a story.  In my latest book, Blink of an Eye, one character’s narrative is written in the present and the other is in the past though it covers the same time-frame.  As with most choices your first instinct is usually the correct one but if you’re unhappy with the flavour of the prose then tense is one element to consider.  Write a chapter both ways and compare.  Like POV the tense should suit the story and work for the characters.

Here’s another list of recent reads that I’ve enjoyed.  Not all perfect but some come pretty close.  Enjoy.

The Scent of Death by Andrew Taylor

The View on the Way Down by Rebecca Waite

Instructions for a Heatwave by Maggie O’Farrell

As Far As You Can Go by Lesley Glaister

The Light Between Oceans by M L Stedman

Ten Things I’ve Learnt About Love by Sarah Butler

The Silent Wife by A.S.A. Harrison

Apple Tree Yard by Louise Doughty

Norwegian by Night by Derek B Miller

The Burning Air by Erin Kelly

How do you decide which form is the best vehicle for a story idea?  Sometimes it seems obvious, the subject matter cries out for the length and complexity of a novel, or it’s a sharp, closely focused snap-shot suited to short fiction.  Other times something that originates as an idea for one form ends up, through happenstance, to see life in another.

I’ve had experience of writing a book and then adapting it for TV (Blue Murder) and of taking a TV script of mine and reworking it as a novel (Hit and Run).  One of my TV pitches became a novel (Witness) and has since been optioned for TV though has not as yet got any further.  Another TV treatment was transformed into a short story for radio (Boom).

I enjoy working in different media.  In my previous incarnation as a community artist I worked in a multidisciplinary company and relished the interplay of ideas and the development of projects involving visual and environmental arts, film, music, drama and creative writing.

My latest venture is a collaboration with my partner Tim, who is a visual artist. He has reworked my short story DOA (originally published by The Do-Not Press in the anthology Crime in the City edited by Martin Edwards) into a graphic short.  My role in the process has been to pare back the story, originally around 1200 words, to its absolute essentials, and comment as a first reader on the images that give the story a new identity.

It’s an experiment and I expect it will appeal to a quite different readership from that for my full length novels.  All I can say is the drawings are brilliant.  Honest.  And yes, I’m biased.  You can see it here and make your own mind up http://tinyurl.com/pkfjyxk

The great writer Elmore Leonard died recently and many people passed on his 10 rules for good writing, as follows:

1. Never open a book with weather.
2. Avoid prologues.
3. Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue.
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb “said”…he admonished gravely.
5. Keep your exclamation points under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose.
6. Never use the words “suddenly” or “all hell broke loose.”
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
9. Don’t go into great detail describing places and things.
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

My most important rule is one that sums up the 10.  If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

Make sense to you?  I think there is a lot of good advice in there but also that rules are only worth keeping if they work for you and for the book you are writing.  Here are my gut responses/thoughts to these rules.

1. It was a dark and stormy night. As a reader I’m hooked. Love it.  Like weather.  A lot.  Maybe it’s a British thing?
2. Some prologues work, some don’t.  I’d ask if it was really needed.
3. Okay as a generalisation.  But never say never.
4. A little variety is okay,  Just a little.
5. I agree!  Though I’d maybe allow seven or eight per 100,000 words (I have never written a book of anything like that length!)
6. Yes to the latter.  ‘Suddenly’ I can handle – sparingly.
7. Bare true dat.
8. Beg to differ here – it’s a matter of personal writing style.
9. Ditto no 8.  I relish descriptions of locations that help me see/taste/smell and hear just what it’s like.  Books that take me to unfamiliar places, vividly depicted, are among my favourites.
10. Well, maybe but do all readers skip the same parts?

What does make sense in all this is that these are the techniques that worked for Leonard, whose novels are a joy to read and who has a very specific voice.  But pick another writer and I think their own rules would differ depending on the style of their prose and the way they like to tell their stories.

 

Another batch of recommended reads.  Lots of variety, too.  In this list there’s a brutal and blackly funny Western, a science fiction mystery novel, a hilarious yet moving take on modern American life as well as some excellent contemporary crime fiction.  Happy reading.

After The Fall by Charity Norman

The Last Policeman by Ben H. Winters

Nina Todd Has Gone by Lesley Glaister

Everyone Lies by A.D. Garrett

The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt

May We Be Forgiven by A.M. Homes

The Detective’s Daughter by Lesley Thompson

Phantom by Jo Nesbo