by Bill Kirton
I suppose I’m lucky in that I’ve never suffered from the
dreaded writer’s block. Whether it’s stories, novels, plays, blogs, reviews or
writing commercial stuff to a deadline, I usually get quickly into the swing of
it and get dragged along. Then, after staying away from whatever text it is for
a while, I enjoy getting back to it and starting the editing/rewriting process.
Recently, though, I have experienced something like it. I
started on the sequel to The Figurehead
and, after writing a few pages, found I was unsure of where I wanted to go with
it. I knew what the themes would be, how the characters would behave with one
another, what the main conflicts and climaxes would be and also how it would
turn out, but it was all bitty and wasn’t managing to cohere in my mind. I
began to think that I’d maybe done too much research, collected too much
information on the commercial aspects of ship owning, passenger accommodation
on transatlantic voyages, and also on actors and theatre groups, all of which
would be part of the story. I knew plenty about all that but had no idea what the
characters wanted to do. Also, there didn’t seem to be much room for them
amongst all the ‘facts’.
Then, with some fairly steady sales of the Jack Carston
books, it was obvious that I had to write the next in the series. Again, I knew
the sort of case it would be, and that it would signify a departure for him
which maybe/probably would make it the last in the series. It needs some
research, so I’m in no position to start it yet but, again, the impulse to
embark on it wasn’t strong.
Rather than worried, I was puzzled by this so, instead of
persevering with either of them, I started a sequel to The Sparrow Conundrum, with very little idea of what it would contain.
This time, though, because of the absurd extremes of the characters, I
immediately started seeing plenty of possible developments. But even then,
after a few days writing, I started finding reasons to do something else.
So I wonder whether it’s another manifestation of a desire
always to want to do something new. I seem to do things for a while then,
without there necessarily being any feeling of having achieved a goal or been
successful, I get the ‘been there, done that’ sensation and look around for
unknowns.
I wonder, too, whether the whole blogging, tweeting,
facebooking thing has made writing less fun and the proliferation of new books
has devalued the process. I don’t think that’s the case, but I’m very aware
that I’m writing in a very different publishing context from the one in which I
started – with more opportunities as well as more competition.
Then again, it’s maybe all down to the trait I’ve mentioned
many times before – I’m lazy. The books will get written but, for the moment,
it’s relaxing to look through the window at the bare branches blowing in the
wind. Maybe when the snowdrops start arriving…
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