That Threshold Moment …

threshold 2I’m really finding my stride with the current work-in-progress Turtle Reef. I’m feeling like a proper, in-charge writer tonight, but for a few years I struggled with the question – When can you call yourself a writer, or more fraught still, a novelist? I don’t mean just thinking that you are one to yourself sometimes, but proudly announcing it when a stranger asks your occupation. I do that now. After writing six (and a half) novels, getting shortlisted for various things and having four of those novels published, I finally believe I’ve passed the threshold. But when did it happen? At what point did I go from pretender to the genuine article?

Threshold 1The problem with writing novels, or painting, or any artistic endeavour is that success is not clear cut. When I became a lawyer, I got a piece of paper to prove I’d earned my title. Our society is geared to work that way. You get a certificate for everything – from trying hardest in grade three last week, to a degree in engineering. It’s not like that with writing. Years ago, a friend of mine travelled to South America and called himself a poet. He made it up. He’d never written a piece of poetry in his life, but for some reason the description appealed. Nobody challenged him. After all, how could you prove him wrong? Before long he felt compelled to live up to his self-proclaimed title. Poetry ensued. By the time he returned to Australia, fiction had become truth. He’s now a respected author and poet with several published works to his name. My question is, when did he actually become a poet? There must have come a threshold moment when one second he wasn’t one, and the next he was.

threshold 3It’s the same with novels. I make up a story in my head. I do a lot of planning, a lot of fitting ideas into three act structures, a lot of plotting character arcs. But I never know what I have on my hands until I start writing, until I start putting words one after the other. It always seems impossible to start with, I’m always a novice in the beginning.Then at some indefinable point in this organic process there is a subtle shift, and suddenly I am writing a novel. The story takes root, becomes powerful, develops a vivid life of its own. It’s most mysterious, like that imperceptible moment when a sapling becomes a tree, or a pupating caterpillar grows wings … but I’m giving myself a headache. Maybe I should just call myself a philosopher (my new made-up imprimatur) and leave it at that. Shall be at the RWA Conference next week, where for a few glorious days everyone is a writer and nobody agonises about a thing!

BB14

 

 

 

 

 

The Rocky Road to Publication – (1) Writing the Novel

This is the first post of a series about getting a novel published in Australia, based on personal experience with my upcoming book, Brumby’s Run.

First you must finish your story. Agents and publishers will usually only consider completed fiction manuscripts. It is enormously useful to join your state writing centre. They offer great on-line support for regional writers. I’ve completed two novels through Andrea Goldsmith‘s Year of the Novel program at Writers Victoria. Here I honed my craft, networked and gained  invaluable friendships. Writing a 70,000 – 100,000 word manuscript takes single-minded dedication, and nobody understands this like other writers. It also helps to have a routine. I aim for at least 500 words a day, but often manage many more. It’s  vital to keep reading, in and out of your genre, fiction and non-fiction. Reading fills up the creative well, and is just the tonic for a mild case of writer’s block. (I don’t believe in writer’s block per se. It is a malady that generally strikes when you’ve written yourself into a corner, and don’t know where the story is going next.)

There are an infinite number of ways to construct your manuscript. Some people write the end first. Some people write chapters out of order and tie them all together later. Some use programs like Scrivener to help keep the threads together.  I begin at the beginning and write in a linear fashion, with only a vague plot outline to go by. This allows the narrative to surprise me, and is a lot of fun. But whatever method you choose, writing a novel takes time and hard work.

Finally, after a great deal of hair-tearing, wine, chocolate and some sublime moments of inspiration, you type The End on your first draft. You put it aside for a few weeks to get a bit of distance. You celebrate. Catch your breath. For the real work is about to begin.

You have your painstakingly manufactured canvas. It’s time to create some magic. The legendary Peter Bishop, former creative director of Varuna Writer’s House, once said to me that the first draft is the writer’s draft. It is essentially the writer telling himself the story. You need to revise it within an inch of  its life – cutting, adding, polishing and shaping, until you have a reader’s draft. Only then should you contemplate launching it into the world.

I’m interested in finding out more about the process of other writers. Do you use Scrivener or something similar, for instance? Do you have any writing rituals? I have a Snoopy toy on my computer. It holds a tiny typewriter with It was a dark and stormy night… written on it. What about you?

Next week – (2) Landing that Elusive Agent