Well, I’m hoping to talk about my new book soon, the last volume in The Girls of Troy sequence.\u00a0 But while I’m waiting to have something to show, I’m recycling some older blogs. Here’s one I wrote in 2011.<\/p>\n
The Plot Thickens<\/b><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/b>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/b>Help! I\u2019m going too fast! My writing I mean. Wait a minute, \u00a0isn\u2019t that a good thing? What about this dreaded writer\u2019s block you lot are always banging on about? \u00a0Well, yes. That can be bad too. And writing away at ninety miles an hour doesn\u2019t feel bad. It feels great, in fact.<\/p>\n
But\u2026it isn\u2019t always the right thing for your story.\u00a0 You can go too fast for your own good; you can speed too lightly over the surface. \u00a0Sometimes you just need to slow down and let the plot thicken.<\/p>\n
Strangely enough this can be harder than making a story shorter.\u00a0 I rather enjoy cutting a manuscript down. Out with it! off with its head! I cry , as I slash and burn page after page.\u00a0 And usually, it\u2019s much better for it.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
But adding \u2013 that\u2019s another business. What do you add? For a start, certainly not the dreaded \u2018description\u2019 that they were always telling you to put in at school. Who wants page after page telling you exactly what colour the cushions were, or how the sunset streaked across the sky? No, what you need to put in is the small, but telling detail. And that needs concentration, and concentration is good, because it\u2019s what\u2019s missing as your fingers hurtle over the computer keys. Maybe all it takes is the replacement of a weak and vague verb by a strong and suggestive one.\u00a0 Maybe, it\u2019s looking harder and harder at a scene your eyes have just flicked over, and saying to yourself, now what exactly is going on here?\u00a0 Your villain, for example, whose speech you\u2019ve had such fun with \u2013 is his villainy going to come across to the reader? No? Then look at him again. Hard. What exactly is he doing as he speaks?\u00a0 Maybe he\u2019s shredding to bits a flower from the bunch of flowers the heroine has thoughtfully placed in the centre of the table. Maybe there\u2019s a small nervous tic in the corner of his eyelid that betrays something about him that we haven\u2019t noticed.\u00a0 Maybe he\u2019s lovingly stroking his adored dog\u2026 Or maybe none of these things, but something much more relevant and vital noticed by you, the writer.<\/p>\n
As I write this, I scoop up from my brain a couple of instances where the tiny observed detail has brought someone or something to life.<\/p>\n
When we first meet Dorothea Brooke, in Middlemarch<\/i> we\u2019re not very taken with her. She\u2019s sanctimonious and priggish, and we wonder how we going to endure spending several hundred pages in her company. In the first scene, she\u2019s going through her mother\u2019s jewellery, and because she thinks she despises jewellery, intends to give it to her more frivolous sister. But she\u2019s seduced by the beauty of the gemstones; her pious mask slips for a second, and we realise that we\u2019re getting to know her a bit better than she knows herself, and that it might actually be rewarding to spend those pages in her company:<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018They are lovely,\u2019 said Dorothea, slipping the ring and bracelet on her finely-turned finger and wrist, and holding towards the window on a level with her eyes. All the while her thought was trying to justify her delight in the colours by merging them in her mystic religious joy\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n
Aha, Dorothea! Got you!<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And here\u2019s Dickens, the master of the tiny telling detail, introducing Little Dorrit\u2019s vain and self serving father, living like a lord in the debtor\u2019s prison. A well intentioned workman makes the \u2018mistake\u2019 of trying to give him a few coins, rather than slipping them discreetly to Little Dorrit. The Father of the Marshalsea is outraged, and once again, we feel we\u2019re being told all we need to know about him:<\/p>\n
The Father of the Marshalsea had never been offered tribute in copper yet. His children often had, and with his perfect acquiescence it had gone into the common purse, to buy meat that he had eaten, and drink that he had drunk; but fustian splashed with white lime <\/i>(the workman) bestowing halfpence on him, front to front, was new.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018How dare you!\u2019 he said to the man, and feebly burst into tears\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
And, oho! We know you too, Mr Dorrit!<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
The plot has thickened, not through a build up of verbiage, but by choosing the exact ones to help us \u2018see\u2019 the characters ; \u2018feebly\u2019\u00a0 \u2018perfect acquiescence\u2019\u00a0 \u2018trying to justify her delight\u2019\u00a0 The effect is easy, almost unnoticeable, but Eliot and Dickens didn\u2019t achieve it without a great effort of concentration, of pure and focussed vision. So when I feel myself rushing in my writing, euphoric though this can be, I have to tell myself, slow down, think, go deeper, not faster\u2026.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Well, I’m hoping to talk about my new book soon, the last volume in The Girls of Troy sequence.\u00a0 But while I’m waiting to have something to show, I’m recycling some older blogs. Here’s one I wrote in 2011. The Plot Thickens \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Help! I\u2019m going too fast! My writing I mean. Wait a minute, \u00a0isn\u2019t […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-219","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/219","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=219"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/219\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":221,"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/219\/revisions\/221"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=219"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=219"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/francesthomas.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=219"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}