Getting started: what's stopping you?

You know you want to write a book. You have a notebook full of scribblings and 4am insomnia ideas that could just work. You even possess that fabled hour every weekday to write, and the knowledge that if you actually used your daily hour, you'd have written an entire book by the end of this year. And a book might get you a pulisher, and a movie deal, and, and, and.

So what's stopping you?

Truth number 1: Writing is scary.
Yes, uh-huh. You actually have to put words down, and some of them might be crap. A lot of them. Maybe even all of them. The author's ego is delicate. Thoughts of being a writer who writes crappy words causes intense pain. My advice is that it's better to write something than nothing. 'Something' you can at least work with - say, edit it, polish it, give it a nip and tuck or even a whole makeover; 'nothing', however, will remain nothing.  

Truth number 2: Writing is hard work.
I've just finished reading a novel by one of my favourite authors – On Green Dolphin Street by Sebastian Faulks – and a wry passage on the process of writing fiction rang true.

' … From what he could gather from novelists' own diaries and letters, the urge that was common to them all was a need to improve on the thin texture of life as they saw it; by ordering themes and events into an artistically pleasing whole, they hoped to give to existence a pattern, a richness and a value that in actuality it lacked. If after reading such a novel you looked again at life – its unplotted emergencies, narrative non sequiturs and pitiful lack of significance – in the light of literature, it might seem to glow with a little of that borrowed lustre; it might seem after all to be charged with some transcendent value.
These poor writers depicted themselves engaged in this heavy task: from people they knew or met, they gathered characteristics for their imaginary humans; from conversations, they pulled out thoughts that could be developed into themes; houses they had visited were relocated and refurnished; other writers were absorbed, assimilated for what they could unwittingly donate; from some less recognizable source the power of pure invention was mobilized, while over it all the artistic intelligence shaped an entity that would thrillingly exceed the sum even of these rich parts.
To Charlie it looked like very hard work. …’
  

Writing is the best sort of work, if you ask me. A week ago I started writing my new interactive novel, The Last Book in the World (um, hopefully not), and every time I sit down to write – in that precious hour before I fetch my daughter from daycare – I feel anew the rush of creating a whole world, of having the freedom to write what what I like. But it’s still work. I always have to force myself a little to sit and write (after all, it’s not compulsory, not like freelance journalism deadline) but I find it’s always worth the effort because of the way it makes me feel: mischievous, empowered, mysterious, interesting, interested, alive.

The trick to getting started? Start anywhere – at the end, at the beginning, somewhere in the middle, or with a key scene that keeps squatting in your mental space. Go, go, go! Sorry to have to remind you, but one day you’ll be dead and you won’t be able to write. Nope, not at all. So sit at your PC every day. Make it a habit. And start writing anywhere.

Write the novel of your dreams with The Peacock Book Project: www.peacockproject.net

What writers can learn from the lives of artists

I've been reading about the life of Impressionist artist Edouard Manet this week past. His paintings delight me with their clean lines and satisfying contrasts, their masterful brush strokes and perfectly considered daubs of light and dark. But what really struck me were his letters, which reveal the reality of life as a creative person: translating idealism into practicality; trying to create something beautiful and meaningful; and frequently dealing with cash-flow problems. Manet was from an affluent family but many of his fellow artists were not, as this letter shows:

To his friend, artist Theodore Duret, he wrote, circa 1875,

'I went to see Monet yesterday and found him in despair and absolutely broke.
He asked me to find someone who would take between ten and twenty pictures of their choice for 100 francs apiece. Shall we do the deal ourselves, putting up 500 francs each?
Of course no-one, and least of all he, should know that we're in on this. I thought of trying to find a dealer or collector but suspect they might refuse.
Unfortunately, it takes people as knowledgeable as we are to do a good piece of business, in spite of the repugnance we may feel, in order to help out a talented artist. Send me an answer as soon as possible or suggest a rendezvous.'
E. Manet 

From 'Manet by himself' (Macdonald Illustrated) Edited by Juliet Wilson-Bareau

Monet! Broke! If only Claude had known the international stardom he'd later achieve, the zillions of office walls his avant-garde poppyfields and haystacks and sunrises would populate more than a century later. But thank heavens for his friends, no? As creatives following a personal vision, we all need a community of supporters. We need those people who'll give us a pep talk when our work's not selling, who'll convince us not to throw in the paintbrush or pen or PC but to continue doing what we love. If you're feeling broke and desperate today, phone a fellow creative. There's no such thing as an overnight success in art or writing - or anything worth doing, for that matter. Keep going, people. Keep doing what you're doing. The hard times are as valuable as the successes in turning you into the person you will become one day.

Start writing the novel of your dreams with The Peacock Book Project: www.peacockproject.net







 

What is your soul's theme tune?

I adore music. It's why, when devising The Peacock Book Project , I couldn't help slipping in a theme song for each chapter and adding links to songs that reflect the mood of a particular scene - all of which add up to a personalised soundtrack for my novel. The Peacock Book Project may be an interactive creative writing programme, but it features sound and imagery too. Because it can. Because free technology makes it possible.

Maybe you're like me. Maybe particular songs speak to you at particular times. Over the years, I've realised there's one piece of music that could possibly called be the theme tune to my soul. What I mean by this is that its vibrations touch me on every level, every time. The energy it emits corresponds so exactly to something buried inside me that whenever I hear it, I forget the stresses, screw-ups, traumas and difficulties of life, and reconnect with the pure energy from which we're all originally made. Seriously, within two minutes of listening to the 11-minute first movement (moderato) of Rachmaninov's piano concerto No. 2 in C minor, opus 18, I am changed.

The movement begins with dark, deep, rich chords that build and swell. Unashamedly passionate, outragiously opulent, the sounds thrill and rejuvenate me. Somehow, Rachaminov's harmonies and lyrical themes inject me with the frequencies of freedom, power, infinite possibility, happiness. Recently, I've been listening to the moderato at night, lying on the floor of our sitting room, spread-eagled on the Persian carpet, while the old floorboards creak with the music's vibrations and my one-year-old daughter climbs all over me. It's as if the cells of my body are thirsty and need to drink in the sound. This is therapy of the quickest, most pleasurable kind. Not bad for 11 minutes at home alone - and all I needed to do was press 'play'.

What, I wonder, is your soul's theme tune? Feel free to share it on the the Peacock Book Project's Facebook page. And look out for the Rachmaninov in Chapter 5, appearing next month...