The fragility of the imagination – by Lari Don

I sometimes feel unreasonable when I say that I can’t write in my lovely bright study, unless the house is quiet and I know I won’t be interrupted. (I know it’s really annoying for my family, and fairly contradictory, since I can write in noisy cafes, libraries, bus stations, train carriages and staff rooms…) But I know that in order to put my whole self into the world I’m creating, I need to feel confident that I won’t be distracted. And I’m discovering that sometimes there’s just too much life and stress and STUFF going on, for me to be able to create stories.

I’ve been thinking recently about how easily the creative process is derailed, and about the fragility of a writer’s imagination.

Last week, Nicola Morgan, a writer I greatly admire, for the books she writes and for the wisdom she shares about writing and publishing, wrote a powerful post about how she’s struggling (temporarily, I hope) to write fiction, rather than non-fiction. Her post made me think about my own writing.

As well as novels, I write retellings of old myths, legends and folktales. Fewer facts and more magic than most non-fiction, but even so, I find this process, the craft of retelling something that already exists, fairly robust, much less likely to be disrupted by someone asking what’s for tea, or by more fundamental disturbances in my life.

However, I find the process of writing fiction, creating the new world of a novel, much more fragile.

One of my novels crashed and burned a year or so ago. An idea I was entirely committed to, characters I loved, a world I was fascinated by, questions I desperately wanted to answer… And it died. I spent months researching it. I wrote 21 chapters. Then it just died.

I couldn’t see where the story was going. So I abandoned it. Put all the books and research notes into a cardboard box.

And then I put that box with all the other boxes. The packing boxes.

Because that book crashed and burned in a year when I moved house twice. A year in which I sold a house, failed to buy another house, moved out of the first house anyway, lived in a (wholly unsuitable) rented house, finally bought another house, and moved house again.

And I will never know whether the story collapsed because of fundamental problems with the idea, or because of the disruptive circumstances under which I was trying to write it.

I will never know, because I just can’t face opening that box and re-entering that story, even though I suspect the essence of the story is fine, and it was just too hard to create that world inside my head, when the world outside my head was so unstable. So that book is probably dead.

But a book which is NOT dead is the one I’m currently writing. I’ve had an unsettled couple of months, when it’s been hard to get the peaceful focus I’m beginning to realise is essential for me to write fiction. And I had a minor crisis last week, when I was on the verge of wondering whether my current novel was falling apart.

But then I realised I’ve been trying to sort out the central plot problem during a General Election (always a busy time in our household) and while one of my children has been on exam leave (giving me no daytime hours to write in a quiet house.)

So, rather than packing this book in a box, I’ve reminded myself about the fragility of my creative process, and I’ve decided not to make any big decisions about the plot until I have time to think in peace and quiet and calmness. (Next Monday, I hope!) I’ll give myself time to get back into this world in the way that works for me, rather than panicking and abandoning it, and souring my relationship with this story and these characters for ever.

What writers do is very strange. Perhaps we don’t admit that often enough. Writing fiction, for whatever age, is essentially quite odd. We invent worlds, and live inside them. We do it convincingly enough to invite others to join us in those worlds. We invent people. We have close and emotional relationships with entirely imaginary people. We give our characters lives, make those lives dramatic and exciting and painful, then sometimes we take those lives away.

That’s a very weird thing to do. It’s precious, it’s delicate, it’s fragile. It needs nurtured, not forced. And it can never be taken for granted. Writers have to be allowed to admit that, to ourselves first of all.

 PS – I’d really like to thank Nicola for her honesty last week. It helped me think about my own creativity and its flawed fragility...

  

Lari Don is the award-winning author of 22 books for all ages, including a teen thriller, fantasy novels for 8 – 12s, picture books, retellings of traditional tales and novellas for reluctant readers. 

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FACT OR FICTION - WHICH ONE'S FOR YOU? By Ann Evans

As well as writing fiction, for the last 30 odd years I've also written magazine articles on all kinds of topics. Just over the last few days I've been working on a Doctor Who toys article to tie in with the programme's 50th anniversary in November and an article on the charity Dogs for the Disabled which this year celebrates 25 years of assistance dogs working with disabled people.

Sometimes when I'm talking about writing to schools or adults even, the mention of writing articles results in a bit of a glazed-eyed look as they imagine how boring it must be to write up some dry old factual stuff which can't possibly be half as much fun as writing fiction that takes you off into the fantastical world of your imagination. 

Me all set for my first flight in a helicopter.

But once I've told the class about combat flying in an army helicopter, racing down the Thames on a police boat, watching a Swiss mountain rescue team at work and interviewing the likes of chef Gordon Ramsay and iconic comedian Norman Wisdom, you can see them seriously considering whether non-fiction writing is something they might actually consider taking up.

One of the nice things about freelance writing is the fact that it's open to all, so long as you have the ability. You don't need special qualification, you can do it as a hobby, or you can try and make a bit of money from it. Age doesn't come into it either. Young or old, so long as you've learnt the craft of article writing, have the ability to immerse yourself into someone's world to learn about their passion so you can write about it – and you have some method of capturing their words and taking photos. Then what's to stop you?

Seeing the Thames Police at work - so
exciting!

When you're doing a mix of fiction and non fiction writing, they compliment each other so well. While books, edits, awaiting publisher's decision etc can take months or even years, an article can be written in a day or so (I used to be quicker when I was at the Cov Telegraph!) And you can see your results within a matter of weeks sometimes.

Of course article writing still carries all the disappointments of rejections; and changing editors can often make a huge difference to your work being accepted or not. But on the whole the two genres rub along very nicely together.

Yesterday I came across my first scrapbook and the first article I ever had published. The very first thing I had published was a reader's letter to Weekend Magazine which earned me the grand sum of £1.50 and I was over the moon about it. The first proper article was in Nursery World in 1979 for which I earned £9. I'd got one toddler and one new baby at the time so felt suitably equipped to put pen to paper (or fingers to typewriter) to write about avoiding jealousy amongst siblings when a new baby comes along. 

My first ever published article 1979.

When it was published they'd illustrated it with a generic picture of a toddler and baby, and I thought, I could have sent a photo in of my two. Lesson learned! Articles do better with photos or illustrations.

How to make a wooden darts case came next, suitably illustrated, for Dart's World magazine, this linked in with my social life at the time, playing darts in a ladies darts team – couldn't hit a barn door these days!

All sorts of articles followed, coinciding with my attempts at writing stories and gradually the two fell into place, side by side, fiction and non-fiction – and the path was set.

Teaming up with a photographer friend, Rob Tysall, was the best thing ever and we'd go 50/50 on anything published. As our articles were rarely commissioned, it was pot luck whether our hard work would result in being published or not. (Actually nothing changes!) But it was (and still is) exciting to keep an eye out in WH Smiths to see if we'd got anything published each month.

From the early 90s I started writing for Dogs Monthly with Rob taking the photos – and amazingly we still do to this day. As we're both massive dog lovers, writing about dogs has resulted in getting out and about meeting some amazing dogs – generally working dogs and some amazing people.

In the hope that there's lots of other dog lovers out there, I've just sorted through a few photos of dogs we're written about over the years. A picture may paint a thousand words but behind every picture there's a story. Enjoy the doggy pics, and thanks Rob (Tysall's Photography) for taking them. 

How about you? Is non fiction and article writing part of your writing life? Or do you just love dogs?

Richard Curtis practising for Crufts.

Canine aquatherapy but he stopped to
pose for the camera!

Swiss mountain rescue
(simulated for our article)

Mary Ray's amazing dogs

Please visit my website: www.annevansbooks.co.uk