The truth about writing a novel

Write what you know? Or make it all up?

Before my mid-thirties I’d talked a lot about writing a novel. ‘I’d love to write a book!’ I’d start, usually after a few drinks. But in truth it seemed as realistic as saying, ‘I’d love to be a Blue Peter presenter.’ It just wasn’t going to happen.

For one thing, books are so long! Unless we’re talking those chunky board books for babies or the washable kind, made of cloth. So the books didn’t happen until - weirdly - I had less free time than I’d ever had in my life.

By the time I managed to get one written - all 90,000 words of it - I had three pre-school children. But actually, having those kids helped immensely when it came to getting the words down.

For one thing, life was so manic and messy that I was absolutely determined to carve out something for myself. If I was sleep deprived anyway, why not use some of those hazy night time hours to write a book? Better than sitting miserably gorging Viennetta ice cream at the kitchen table while thinking, Why is the whole world sleeping soundly apart from me? (Of course they weren’t really. It just felt like that).

So, writing helped to stop me becoming an embittered hag.

Also, having a young family had taken me away from my full time paid job, which I’d been utterly obsessed with. Those magazine years had been wonderful but the industry was changing. Although we didn’t know what it was exactly, everyone was talking about The World Wide Web.

‘It’s just for nerds,’ a journalist pal muttered, scathingly, on a night out. Yeah, right! The magazines we’d loved dearly started to die a slow death.

On top of all that, we’d moved out of London to a small town in rural Lanarkshire, Scotland (I made the mistake of calling it a village when we first moved in, and was roundly told off for it). And all of that - new places, people and experiences - helped a book idea to form in my mind.

I started out writing about being a mum, mining my own domestic life for ideas and keen to get all the joy and chaos down on the page. Finally, here was a book idea I could run with!

‘Write what you know,’ they say. There’s something to be said for it especially when you’re starting out. It cuts down the research for one thing. And exploring familiar territory can be good for the confidence.

But then, so can just making stuff up as that’s where the real fun starts.

Something else people say about writing books?

‘I’d love to write a novel but don’t have the time.’ One woman told me, sheepishly: ‘My husband sent me away on a writing retreat and I wrote nothing.’ Sometimes it’s not really about time but the fear of getting started. The time thing is an excuse. Sometimes having acres of time and no interruptions is so pressurising we just sit there, frozen in terror, munching biscuits and staring out of the window as if inspiration will it hit - splat! - like a big dollop of bird poo.

People also say: ‘Everyone has a novel in them.’

They probably do - but not everyone’s prepared to sit there bashing a keyboard and slugging tepid coffee, rubbing at their face, muttering to themselves, putting things in the oven and leaving them to burn, neglecting personal hygiene, becoming snappy and irritable when interrupted, and blaming everything - weather, hormones, noisy builders down the street - for chapter 12 not working out. Everyone might have a novel in them but dragging the wretched thing out of your guts is another matter entirely.

That’s not to say it’s a horrible job. When it’s going well there’s no better feeling, IMO. Of course it can also be frustrating, tiresome, lonely and anxiety-making. But there are things you can do to make the process more fun (I believe that if I’m having a jolly old time writing, and sniggering embarrassingly at my own comedy passages - PARDON ME MATRON - then my readers will enjoy them too).

So here’s what I do:

Listen to music as I work. Somehow, this helps to ease my ‘Oh my God this is a ton of shite no one will ever read it my publisher will drop me’ neuroses.

Dip into one of my favourite books (in a similar same genre to the one I’m writing in). Reading a paragraph cheers me immensely and reminds me to relax and have fun. After all they’re only words, right? It’s just a book!

Tell myself, ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ By this, I mean letting myself go with the flow when writing - seeing where a scene goes, almost of its own accord. This is the best feeling - that much-desired ‘flow state’, maybe? When you can shove all your fears and your ego out of the way and just write.

I also STOP for the day before I’m drained and convinced that everything I write is bile.

Another thing people often ask:

Should I show my writing to other people or keep it to myself?

This is very personal but I do love a writing group. In fact, I plan to look for one in Glasgow - ideally a woman’s group because (this might seem awful to say) I prefer writing with women. Many years ago, I went to writing classes. In our group of 20, the three or so men would always dominate - particularly one guy who’d bring in a piece of writing every week to read out. And it would always be about some awful disgusting woman who was determined to control him and wreck his life.

Well, obviously it was his wife he was writing about! We were meant to give ‘constructive feedback’ but all I could think was, Your poor, poor wife. I do hope she runs off with someone and leaves you.

Disclaimer: I do realise that not all men are like this.

Despite this, I believe that writers need other writers - if only to reassure ourselves that we’re not mad.

Which brings me neatly to…

In-person writing workshop news!

If you’re in/around Glasgow and yearning to start writing your novel - or are already ploughing into the process - why not come along to my fiction writing workshop on Sunday, October 15? It’s at Studio Pavilion at House for an Art Lover (a beautiful Mackintosh building set in a glorious park). Just £20 for the full day, it’s for writers (or aspiring writers) of all levels and I promise it’ll be very friendly and fun. There are just 20 places. And no - you won’t be forced to read anything out!

Booking info here:

Okay - I’d better get back to my book. Obviously this newsletter was just a way of avoiding chapter 12!

Love,

Fiona xx

PS Want to prolong that summery feeling a little bit longer? You can order my latest novel, The Man I Met On Holiday, here!