Writing
What inspired me to write “Entering the Weave”
For my thirteenth birthday I got a typewriter. I loved its clunky mechanics and the artful complexity required to load it with interlacing sheets of foolscap and carbon paper. I wrote dreadful stories on it based almost entirely around a hero who was always too good to be true.
In my teens I read voraciously. And I’ll never forget the bittersweet pleasure of realising that there were only twenty or so pages of Diana Wynne Jones’s “The Power of Three” – the mixed emotions of feeling the width of the remaining pages dwindle to nothing. On one hand I wanted to finish the book – to devour all of its secrets, on the other I knew that once the final page had been turned reality would once more intrude and the magic of another first read would disappear forever. There was a wealth of children’s writing that furnished me with a more mature view of fiction. The hero was never perfect, the villain never entirely evil. So with my trusty typewriter I developed more realistic, although still fantastical words and worlds.
As adulthood approached I learned how to make a living. I wrote computer programs during the day which paid the bills, and wrote nonsense at night which fed my spirit. I sent some short stories off to Interzone and gained quite a rapport with the editors, especially Lee Montgomerie who was always very encouraging about what I sent, but never so encouraging as to publish anything. Looking back at my competition I can understand why.
In my thirties children took up most my time. But the rare moment of quiet would always be spent dreaming – conjuring words together to please myself and perhaps an avid fan of mine at bedtime.
And then I turned forty and the words began to explode onto the page. I had more time, and more focus and almost before I knew it I’d finished “Entering the Weave” A decades long process of idle thought and frantic life mashed together with my ever present desire to emulate the heroes of my childhood. So thank you Alan Garner, Susan Cooper, Lloyd Alexander, CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien and every other hero of mine.
The inspiration for “Entering the Weave” is a study in how a finished product can be entirely different from its initial conception.
I had two ideas. One was complicated and I eventually discarded it because it was too difficult. The other was simple and it gave rise to all of the concepts and ideas in the book.
The complicated idea was that the book would contain clues which could be deciphered and followed online which would open up an extra dimension to the story told on the physical pages. I had a few ideas for this but they always ended up getting in the way of the story…
The simple idea was that I liked the name Trinity Vale. It sounded quite mystical. A place where the dreams of all the living things on Earth might coalesce to form a natural virtual reality of memories. And this place, this Trinity Vale, would be an accessible heaven, a place where all our loved ones could reside forever.
Procrastination for good, not evil
Video Posted on Updated on
In order to once more prove my procrastination credentials, I’ve spent some time trying to process my emotions when confronted by rejection… in video form.
Here is the result.
Strength through Joy!
A Perfect Novel?
“There are three secrets to writing a novel.” Somerset Maugham famously begins. (And, as you can see from his picture, what Somerset says stays said.)
To understand these secrets though, I think we need to know what a novel actually is. Or what it should be.
“The main question to a novel is — did it amuse? were you surprised at dinner coming so soon? did you mistake eleven for ten? were you too late to dress? and did you sit up beyond the usual hour? If a novel produces these effects, it is good; if it does not — story, language, love, scandal itself cannot save it. It is only meant to please; and it must do that or it does nothing.” – Sydney Smith
So, a novel is an entertainment? Something designed to while away unwanted hours. But nowadays there are many other things that can do that. Candy Crush for instance. Or Angry Birds.
“Ah now! Wait just one second.” You sneer. “You can’t replace novels with silly computer puzzle games.”
No, I know. Don’t get so defensive. That’s not what I’m saying. But I know of many people who have mistaken eleven for ten or been unable to dress after a mentally strenuous session of Candy Crush. I’ve seen people walking along the street peering at their phones with less than a healthy regard for their own safety. Must-Swap-One-More-Candy.
My contention is that a novel is more than a recreational distraction. Novels teach us things. A novel can expand our minds.
“So does Candy Crush. As you said it’s a puzzle game. Keeps the brain active.” A young, probably fashionable person says from behind you.
Perhaps it does. Look, I’m not having a go at Candy Crush, but I don’t think it can offer the same intellectual challenges as a well written novel.
“Have you tried level 432?”
Two ninjas silently (obviously) remove the young person from the blog.
“What about crosswords?” A tweed-jacketed harridan shouts from somewhere over to your left. “They’re my cup of tea! Much more satisfying than made up stories!”
As an entertainment, you mean? (I am, quite frankly, rather intimidated by this crusty old lady.) Isn’t a crossword just a…
“It’s not just anything, young man! A good cryptic crossword keeps the old grey matter ticking over nicely. If I want to read something, I’ll read something huge and non-fiction.” She takes a solid step forward. The ejection ninjas have disappeared.
M’Aidez!
“A novel is never anything but a philosophy expressed in images. And in a good novel the philosophy has disappeared into the images.” – Albert Camus
This sounds great – much more rigorously clever than a smartphone app could ever hope to be.
But, even if you say it with a comedic French accent, it’s too constraining and vaguely patronising. I’m sure there are novels where the images only serve to drive a plot forward rather than serving a philosophical agenda. And I assume there are novels that express a philosophy via modern dance (almost certainly written by James Joyce)
But I think he’s on the right track. Philosophy or a philosophy can be hard to get across, and novelists are well practised in showing rather than telling, so the novel would appear to be the perfect opportunity to clear up these pesky thoughts, downloading the novelist’s ideas directly into the reader’s mind.
Also, novels can compete with crosswords when it comes to providing us with literary puzzles.
“All novels are sequels; influence is bliss.” –Michael Chabon
There are few, if any completely original novels. Someone once told me that Dostoyevsky had written a version of every single story there was, even though he’d only written seven novels. (I know it seems that he’s written sixteen of them, so perhaps this gem of information isn’t quite pure) But it’s a useful skill to understand how one novel is influenced by another. Or how a literary trick from one author can be utilised to highlight or undermine a reader’s understanding of a theme.
This can obviously be a dangerous game for the novelist though. Too much reliance on the clever references or ironic pastiche can overwhelm the reader leaving him with a cryptic crossword so unfathomable it might as well have been compiled by a hippopotamus.
For me, a perfect novel incorporates all these ideas. It will entertain, as well as enlighten. It will teach as well as intrigue. And, ideally, it will reward me for close attention to its inner workings.
“There are three secrets to writing a novel. Unfortunately nobody knows what they are.” – W. Somerset Maugham
- ← Previous
- 1
- …
- 4
- 5
- 6
- Next →