Cath Staincliffe

Words are the writer’s medium, the raw material, the building blocks with which we construct our stories.  A follow-on question to, ‘Where do you get your ideas from?’ might well be, ‘Where do you find the words?’  How do we translate that vision in our head, that image in our mind’s eye, that scene, the picture of a character into marks on the page or screen?

For myself it’s an organic process, the words come into my head, sometimes visit my mouth (I shape them as I’m writing, tasting them which must look bizarre and is one reason for not writing in front of an audience) and then they travel down my arm to my hand and through the pen to the page.

As I’ve said before I don’t like to analyse the process of writing too much (superstitious) but as I write I am often automatically seeking out better words to capture what I mean.  My first draft has plenty of crossings out.  A grey sky will become a blank or bleak sky.  ‘How are you?’ will be replaced by, ‘You okay?’ or, ‘How you doing?’  There are dozens of choices as I write.  And a sense of the rhythm of the words, the beat beneath them, figures in there somewhere.

Then there is the Thesaurus.  I love the Thesaurus.  I’m prone to repetition and finding alternative words helps keep that in check and introduces variety into my work.

Sometimes I collect words as I read other people’s books.  If they strike me as particularly eloquent or visceral then I jot them down and when I am tidying up my prose I consider whether there is a good place for any of them.  Often they don’t fit or they don’t suit my style so they languish on the list for the future.

You may have read lots of rules about writing: cut out your adverbs, avoid the passive voice, don’t split infinitives.  None of these rules help me, I ignore them all.  I prefer to rely on my instincts.  And I constantly break a rule that I was taught at school – never start a sentence with ‘and’.  (See what I did there?)  I also have loads and loads of sentences that are not proper sentences even though they start with a capital letter and end with a full stop.  I leave out the subject or the verb or both.  Suffice to say the grammar and style function on my word processor is permanently disabled.

It works for me.

It’s the question writers get asked most.  Sometimes I make a jokey reply: ‘Off a stall in Longsight Market.’  Truth is, I’m a little reluctant to examine too closely how ideas come, I don’t like to analyse my writing process.  For me, writing is about letting go, freeing up my mind to play, create, invent and I fear that too much unpicking of that might make me self-conscious, hamper that flow.  In a similar way, as a reader I don’t want to analyse the books I’m immersed in, I want to suspend disbelief and accept the world of the story and connect with the characters.

What is true for me is that stories come in different ways, some grow from a phrase that triggers a situation, and an idea of character in that situation.  Some follow from seeing an image in my head: dust motes in sunbeams in a hallway, Victorian tiles, the house holds a secret.  Particular books might start more cerebrally – thinking about a theme that seems ripe for exploration or a situation that would petrify me, or even an incident I experience that suggests a parallel in a fictional world.  These are all seeds.  In order to germinate them I need to have a sense that there’s potential in the ‘idea’, which I can only explain as a spark, an excitement; when I consider it my mind goes racing ahead.  But I can’t make real progress until I discover the characters.  I can’t go anywhere until I’ve worked out who the people are, what they’re like and named them.   And then the story, the ideas develop and change as I write.   Like mould or grass or fruits.  What a job, eh?  Love it.

Here’s another unadorned list of my recent reads.  All thoroughly recommended.  Aren’t books great?

Under The Dome by Stephen King

Collecting Cooper by Paul Cleave

The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey

Dominion by CJ Sansom

The Wicked Girls by Alex Marwood

The Betrayal by Helen Dunmore

Life After Life by Kate Atkinson

The Last Warner Woman by Kei Miller

Ghostman by Roger Hobbs

Snowdrops by AD Miller

Today I’ve been along to Fallowfield Library – one of 6 Manchester libraries threatened with closure in the latest round of public service cuts – cuts due to the government’s austerity programme.  (And that’s working really well, isn’t it?)  The meeting room was packed and reflected the wide cross-section of local people who depend on the library and see it as the heart of their community.  From pensioners who meet there and find it a lifeline, a social hub, and who can only attend because it is near enough to walk, to children involved in youth activities  (no youth clubs are left in the area) or who use the computers and other resources for homework.  From students who study there and people who use the library to try and find jobs, to people who need help and advice and know the best place to start is at the library.  Then of course there are the people of all ages who go in to borrow books (including talking books and books in other languages) or DVDs, to read newspapers or get something photocopied.  The clear shared feeling at the meeting was that the library is the heart of the community and that losing it would be a life-blow to community cohesion.  ‘There’ll be nothing left,’ was said and repeated several times.  ‘It’s all we’ve got.’  There are no other community venues in the area and the library supports many local groups who meet there.  Back in June I wrote a piece for The Reading Agency for National Reading Group Day about what libraries mean to me – you can see it here.  Every person at the meeting today and those in libraries across the country will have their own stories to tell about what their library means to them.   And everyone there today who spoke, except the local authority’s Head of Libraries, was totally opposed to the proposals.