To paraphrase Douglas Adams, I love making plans. I like the whooshing sound they make as they collapse.
His original quote was about deadlines flying past. But having watched Master Blasters on TV years ago, I'm going to say edifices collapse with a whoosh as well, and a satisfying mushroom of dust, leaving a pile of rubble from which to start building again if that’s what takes your fancy.
The plan thus demolished?
That having finished draft one of the seventeenth-century witch trial work-in-progress back in April, I would power into the development edit on retreat in June and finish it in time for an historical writing course at Moniack Mhor in November.
However.
A series of well-placed detonators went off in the real world, starting in May, and reverberating until now, leaving me surrounded by rubble, wondering if I’ll be able to pick up a trowel again before November.
Which is fine. My sort-of deadline for this story is end-September next year, and since I don’t have writing plans after that, there’s no pressure to finish this manuscript early.
Where, therefore, is the WIP in its fragmented state of becoming a story?
The A-plot is undergoing a thorough development edit to bring out its protagonist’s character arc as it evolved during the drafting. Before the latest detonation, this edit had reached the midpoint of Act 2 part 1, with the outline of further structural revisions tucked away safety in various synopses. So I should be able to pick up these pieces as soon as time allows.
The development edit must also integrate an entirely new B-plot into the A-plot. I’d planned to draft this B-plot before plaiting the two together, but in practice I found myself writing both in tandem – in alternating chapters – so I’ll carry on with that when I can. Meanwhile, I’m hoping the ‘backroom girls’ of my creative unconscious are already working out how to dovetail their dual denouements.
The shape of this ending is mostly being driven by the internal logic of each plotline, but external drivers are in the mix, too.
For example, back in September, at another super-productive writing retreat at Chez Castillon [pic below], our leader, author and writing tutor Rowan Coleman, recommended the A- and B-plot protagonists have a closer relationship than the one I have plotted. She wondered about a romance between them – as had the tutor at the June retreat – an option I don't think is plausible in the world I've created for them.
In two previous iterations of a female protagonist for the B-plot,
both women were in a significant relationship with the A-plot hero, Tom.
However, neither the role of lover nor surrogate mother suits the
current B-plot heroine, Alys.
On the other hand, Tom's story would benefit from a more dramatic Q-factor to catalyse the final battle. So
that is the specific story problem I have set the BR girls: how can
Alys trigger Tom’s climax action during a face-to-face meeting?
For
those not a fan of plotting via story beats, the Q-factor is – from
memory – James Scott Bell’s term for the beat where a character or event that happens early in the story enables a critical action later on. It’s
named after Q in the Bond films, the character who gives James Bond a
gadget which will save the day.
Away from such structural plotting, the contours of Alys’s character arc are also growing in the cracks and dusty corners left in the rubble of my plan.
Earlier
this month, for instance, the BR girls suggested a more relatable
emotional wound than the one I had plotted, resulting in more poignant
psychological scar and consequent immoral action. Perhaps her
confession/self-revelation about her wound might factor into Tom’s
Q-factor scene. Who knows.
Meanwhile, a separate suggestion arrived from the backroom last weekend. Since Tom’s story is
at its core about a conformist who learns to think for himself, perhaps
Alys’s story should - at heart - be about an outsider who chooses to
come in from the cold.
Perhaps her self-revelation about her wound is what decides her to end her self-imposed exile, and finally meet with Tom. Hmm...
However it happens, the need for this significant meeting between Tom and Alys was reinforced last weekend by another serendipitous event.
The
leader of the Moniack Mhor historical fiction writing course in November
is the author Andrew Miller. I adore his Costa prize-winning Pure and
find his blogs and interviews about his approach to writing
fascinating. So, for National Bookshop Day, I bought his 2025 Booker
Prize short-listed novel The Land in Winter and read it over the past two weekends.
Now
it’s finished, I don’t know what to think about it. Atmospheric, yes.
Beautifully written in parts. But it's not my kind of book. Wrong era,
wrong characters. It happens. But [spoiler alert] right at the end, all
four point-of-view characters meet.
I'm not into signs, but this was a sign, right? Tom and Alys must meet. I just hope the BR girls are onto the case.
Rowena House Author on Facebook and Instagram.
5 comments:
Novels move in mysterious ways ...
Rowena, good wishes and sympathy. It seems very unfair that your 'witches' don't have the power to lay a good magical spell across your troublesome plot. Hope that your November retreat gives you the space to sort out the story - and characters - you want to write. What a lovely place for an escape.
Don't they just!
Thank you! The prospect of retreating to wild Scotland in winter is delicious. First time there. Heard so many good things about it. I'll ask my witches for a spell to stop any more detonations that could stop me going.
The comment below is meant to be my reply to you!
Post a Comment