There can't be a writer who hasn't been accosted by the all-too- familiar questions: where do you get your ideas from, and how do you do it? Instant confession: I have no answers to these difficult questions, and little knowledge of how I do it or where my ideas come from.
Colouring In
I used to go to many 'writers' conferences,' where 'writers' taught would-be writers. I used to listen to what these teachers were saying. And I was horrified.
'First work out your plot,' was the constant advice, 'and write notes. 'Then, work out your characters and write more notes. If you have trouble inventing characters, recall people you know. Plot and characters all worked out, write the first draft. Then the second. Maybe a third…'
Heavens, the boredom. I cannot imagine anything more likely to blast the progress of a book. I told my pupils I could never do that, and advised them not to. Many said that was a relief. They were given too many rules. Just sit down and write, I said, free of notes and drafts. Of course there are a few things to heed, such as punctuation and cutting out clichés. And of course writers of thrillers have to plan their way. But all you really need is the inner voice that guides you, the ideas and descriptions that come from some mysterious place within you. Once they've arrived they can be polished. And if nothing comes it may be worth reflecting that, much though you want to write, you aren't actually a writer.
I can't tell you how many aspiring authors have said to me 'when I have time I'm going to write my book.' That's just a form of procrastination. But if you really are a writer you ruthlessly make time. Stop faffing about, complaining, just get down to it.
I wrote my first collection of short stories when I was five - chose ten titles, then filled in the stories. ( I still do that.) One day, seeing the postman deliver a lot of letters, I asked my father how a postman had time to write? 'Usually postmen don't have stories in their heads,' he answered. 'Not many people do.' I was astonished.
My writing life has taken me through novels, short stories, plays for radio, tv and the stage. I love the challenge of different techniques and enjoyed learning different skills. But the skills were used in conjunction with the inner voice that formed the words, the characters. Only very rarely did I come to a halt. Once, mid page, no further tumbled out. I watched a cat in the garden harassing a pigeon. Feathers everywhere. 'That'll do,' I thought and, describing the scene, the block was unlocked.
I'm lucky enough to lead a double life: no matter what I'm doing ideas spin in the back of my mind longing to be put down. At 8.30 a.m I'm at my desk, no notion of what will be there by lunchtime. It's a wonderful kind of magic. But it can't be acquired by bossy rules. It's either in you, or it isn't. Confessing the truth to yourself is hard. But I reccomend it.