Bringing characters to life

I know I’ve been silent recently.  Nothing sinister: just a holiday.  I didn’t take my writing with me, as it was a cycling tour of the Netherlands and I had enough trouble negotiating space for two pairs of shoes in the panniers, let alone trying to fit in my laptop and a file of notes about “Plank 3”.  But Sam did come with us, in that my husband used some of our longer stretches of pedalling to quiz me about my characters.  He didn’t ask about the plot of “Plank 3” – he always prefers to go to his first reading with no expectations – but rather concentrated on background questions, like “How did Sam and Martha meet?” and “Do you think Wilson will make a good career police officer?”.  And I found myself discussing as though they were real people.

In fact, Sam and Martha have already entered our everyday world.  Quite often we will see someone doing something, and one of us will comment, “Martha would have had plenty to say about that”.  Or when we hear another report of fluffy anti-crime rhetoric, where the speaker is trying to make a point without upsetting anyone, we’ll roll our eyes and say, “Sam would have known what to do – and wouldn’t have been afraid to do it”.

So today I am back with Sam and Martha on the page, picking up “Plank 3” and starting to tie together the various plot lines – I had a good idea for one link somewhere between Delft and the Hook of Holland.  As ever, I did consider whether I could use my travels more directly, perhaps by taking Sam to the Netherlands – which also contained Belgium in his day – but not for “Plank 3”.  I was sorely tempted to visit the police museum we spotted in Zaandam, but decided not to “contaminate” my picture of Sam and his Great Marlborough Street fellow officers with images of their “politie” cousins.  Maybe “Plank 4″…

Writing what you know – and what you don’t

One of the most popular pieces of advice given to writers is to write what you know.  I can see the wisdom in this; after all, these days I find myself writing almost exclusively about financial crime, whether it is modern money laundering or historical fraud.  (I should clarify that this doesn’t mean that I know about these things because I do them – I know about them because I think a lot about how to prevent them.)  But surely the joy of escapism that comes with fiction is for the author as well as the reader.

Take my Plank novels, for instance.  They are about magistrates and police officers and lawyers, of whom I have known – and continue to know – many.  They are set in London, which I know reasonably well.  And the first one – “Fatal Forgery” – centred on a bank, which is a species of financial institution with which I am very familiar.  But beyond that, well, I’m off into the unknown (or at least, the initially unknown – days of research usually put paid to my innocent status pretty sharpish).  Beyond reading all of Jane Austen and some of Georgette Heyer, I didn’t know much about the Regency period – but being a contrary sort of person, I felt that the Georgians, Victorians and above all the Tudors (saints preserve us from yet more tomes about the Tudors) had been done to death, and the 1820s are just so perfect for financial crime and nascent detectives.  I didn’t know much about the prison system back then – particularly the frankly bizarre treatment of debtors (basically, lock them up until they pay off their debt, but because they’re locked up they can’t earn any money – see “The Man in the Canary Waistcoat”, and weep).  And on a personal note, I didn’t know much about spending a marriage longing for children who don’t arrive; I never wanted the little blighters myself, but I have a couple of friends in this situation and was able to talk to them about it.

To be honest, a book based purely on my own experiences would actually be quite interesting, as I have had a (let’s be charitable) varied upbringing and (ditto) colourful family life.  But it would be interesting only for the reader – not for me, the writer, because I’ve been through it all once already.  So I’m sorry but we’re going to have to compromise on this, and stick with stories that allow me to comfort you with some genuine knowledge while entertaining myself with some exploration and discovery.

Festive financial crime

As regular readers will know, over the summer I was able to blag myself a writing retreat – a whole month away from the day job and the ironing and the food shopping, with just a daily word count to achieve, with the (achieved) aim of completing the main draft of “The Man in the Canary Waistcoat”.  I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to do it again in 2015, as it was pretty grim for my husband, left behind to keep the home fires burning, but I did think that I might be able to do something approximating it over this festive period.  Nothing like as long, or as isolated, of course, but still time away from the daily routines.

My Grand Plan is this.  I am finishing work today – which is rare for me, as we self-employed types tend to work on through.  But I have put in extra hours over the past few weeks and “worked ahead” on January deadlines, so now (unless something spectacular happens in the world of money laundering) I don’t need to do anything until 5 January 2015.  That’s next year!  By my diary count, and excluding Christmas Day and other days already committed to family visits, this gives me eleven days of freedom.  Let’s knock off another three for being just too lazy, or going to the cinema, or watching “Morecambe and Wise”, or reading the piles of books that I have put on my Christmas list – and I’ve still got eight days for writing.  Eight whole days!

Of course, with “Plank 3” being at such an early stage, I can’t use the daily word count thing to galvanise myself.  But there are certain things I still need to do, and I’m going to spend Day One writing down all of these tasks, and then allocate them to Days Two to Eight.  So by the time I get back to work, “Plank 3” will be bubbling away nicely on the back burner.  I may blog about this as I do it, or I may ban myself from the Internet to avoid distractions – we’ll see.  Either way, I’ll muse on how the Inaugural Christmas Pseudo-Retreat went when I “return” in January.

Merry Christmas to you all!  And in case you thought Christmas buskers were a new invention, here are some that Sam might have seen:

Look at me! Look at me!

I’m not exactly the stereotypical reclusive author – after all, my day job (anti-money laundering consultant) often involves standing up in front of audiences of hundreds to spread the AML message).  And I LOVE talking to people.  But I am English, and in our DNA – along with the love of crumpets and an ability to make a decent conversation out of any type of weather at all – is a certain modesty, and in particular a horror of blowing one’s own trumpet.  So when an Englishwoman (oh, let’s say me) decides to write a series of books (let’s take “Fatal Forgery” and “The Man in the Canary Waistcoat” as random examples) and then publish them without the back-up of a traditional publishing house and their marketing department, we get a basic, almost visceral, conflict.

I am very proud of both “FF” and “Canary”.  And I know from their reviews that they are good books that people enjoy reading.  They look amazing, thanks to the sterling work of the cover designer.  So what’s not to sell?  And yet I find it remarkably difficult to shoehorn into conversations, “Oh, and did you know that I have written two novels?  Here they are *delves into capacious handbag* – please do buy them.”  I just can’t do it.  So this coming few days is a real test for me.

Tomorrow I am going to London for the day (great excitement – I shall doubtless have M&S iced buns on the train), mainly to attend an evening Christmas drinks party at Hammicks in Fleet Street.  (This is the delightful legal bookshop that is not only stocking my books, but also featuring “Canary” in its Christmas promotion and window.)  The place will be stuffed with potential buyers – legally-minded book-lovers – and I will have to overcome my reserve so that I can point out my books, and the short distance between them and the till.  I have decided to wear a bright pink dress so that I will be visible among the legal black, so there’s no hiding.

And on Saturday I am spending the day on the “Books, Beautiful Books!” stall at the Mill Road Winter Fair here in Cambridge.  I’ve told you about it before, and plans proceed apace.  We’ll be just over the road from the police station, so perhaps a book involving the early history of policing will hit the spot.  Ever the optimist, I have stocked up on £1 coins and £5 notes so that I can give change, and am offering a cover price discount to draw in the crowds.  Perhaps I should take inspiration from the market-sellers who do this for a living – “I’m not asking for £10, I’m not even asking for £8…!”

The future for Sam

Did I mention that I have decided that there will be seven Sam Plank books?  It’s not a nod to JK, or anything to do with the significance of the number seven – it’s just worked out that way.

“Fatal Forgery” (Plank 1) is set mostly in 1824.  “The Man in the Canary Waistcoat” (Plank 2) takes place in 1825.  So I thought it would be interesting to set one novel per year until 1830, which is a good end point because policing in London changed significantly in 1829 (when the Metropolitan Police was founded) and Sam would be thinking about retirement then anyway, so I thought that he could work with the Met for a year, passing on his knowledge and skills, and then bow out gracefully.  Or not – Sam rather makes his own decisions, I have found.  If I am permitted to follow this plan, it means that I am now committed to Plank 3 in 1826, Plank 4 in 1827, Plank 5 in 1828, Plank 6 in 1829 and Plank 7 in 1830.  And so far I have published them in successive years, which would mean publishing Plank 3 in 2015, Plank 4 in 2016, Plank 5 in 2017, Plank 6 in 2018 and Plank 7 in 2019.

Now I am used to planning ahead in my day job.  I’m self-employed, so if you don’t put holidays in the diary well ahead of time, they don’t happen.  And I work mainly with compliance departments, which are usually very organised and like to book staff training and other initiatives well in advance.  So I already know what work I will be doing for most of 2015.  But as far ahead as 2019…. that’s a bit scary.

And the other thing that is exercising my mind at the moment is wondering how I am going to keep track of all the details in the series.  If, for instance, I mention Martha’s birthday in one of the books, I will have to make sure that it stays on the same date if I mention it again.  I think before I go too much further, I am going to have to close-read “Fatal Forgery” and “Canary” again, and make a careful note of any details that I do mention, and keep a Bumper Book of Sam Facts.  I wonder how JK managed it?

Big Edit Day 2

Well, that was a much simpler day – I suspect because I was editing chapters that I have written more recently, and so I liked/disliked them the same as I did when I wrote them.  Again, I found a few daft errors – a bootmaker morphing into a bookmaker in the course of a few paragraphs, and the accidental knighting of a character – but on the whole it seemed to work well.

I have now – big gulp – sent out a beta reader version to someone, and will spend the next few weeks on tenterhooks.  I have asked him three main questions:

1. Is it exciting enough to make you want to carry on reading?
2. Is the outcome enough of a surprise – or had you worked it long before the end?  (It’s so hard for me to try to judge whether it is suspenseful, as I know what’s coming!)
3. Is the title right for the book?

I will try very hard not take it personally if he doesn’t like it…  But truthfully, I think there are some good bits in there, and if he thinks the plot hangs together well, that will be my main worry assuaged.

Incidentally, as this is the second in what I hope will be a long series, I found myself battling something I had not anticipated: my own poor memory.  On several occasions I had to refer back to “Fatal Forgery” to make sure that I wasn’t contradicting something I had said there.  Years ago I remember reading a fascinating article about the meticulous record-keeping behind such telly series as “Coronation Street” and “Dallas” – not just the major plot points, but things like people’s birthdays, and if their favourite food or colours had ever been mentioned.  I’m not daring to dream of that sort of longevity for Plank… or am I?!

Big Edit Day 1

So, having left the first draft of “Plank 2” [which reminds me: I wonder how the title poll is going?] to fester for a fortnight, today I finally allowed myself to start editing it.  I hid myself away in the University Library (you remember my favourite location: North Front 5, among the impenetrable Russian history books so that I am not tempted to read, and overlooking King’s Chapel for inspiration) and managed to read through the first twelve chapters.

One of the surprising things is how much I had forgotten.  There was one whole scene that I have absolutely no recollection of writing, and it works well – maybe someone sneaked on to my laptop when I wasn’t looking and wrote it for me.  And another surprising thing is the number of silly mistakes I had made – in one chapter, a man was put on trial for one crime and found guilty of another.  Now, I know that the Regency legal system was not as structured as our modern one, but that’s just plain silly.  And in another chapter, a character changed their name halfway through.

As for major edits, the only one I did today was to swap the order of events a little, in an effort to increase dramatic tension.  I have read that books should follow a certain profile, rather like a mountain range – foothills of introduction, then scaling peaks of tension, with cliffhangers along the way, and finally down into the plateau of resolution.  Or something like that.  I did consider trying to decide which chapter was which type of landscape feature, and then assembling them in the recommended order, but somehow Sam resisted it.  “Plank 2” (like “Fatal Forgery”) is written in the form of a constable’s notebook, with each chapter an entry for a particular day, and that seems to demand a structure all of its own.  Or maybe my beta readers will come back and demand Alpine scenery!  I’m off to have a couple of Jaffa Cakes, and gird my loins for Big Edit Day 2 tomorrow.

Local library event

Cambridge, as you can imagine, is rather generously endowed with libraries – every college has one, every department has at least one, then there are the cross-cutting ones like the University Library.  And then you can add to that total the large number of “public” libraries – including the very well-used (especially by me) Cambridge Central Library.  And the lovely people who are in charge of attracting even more people to the libraries, and therefore to reading, have organised an event for local authors.  You can read more about it here.

In short, six local authors – including me! – will be sitting in the entrance area of the library from 1000 to 1300 on what we hope will be a busy Saturday, showcasing our books, talking about them to anyone who’s interested, and hopefully selling a few copies.  I am very over-excited about it all, mainly because you cannot imagine how much I love talking about Sam Plank and historical financial crime and Regency London.  My poor husband is sick of the phrase, “I found out something really interesting today…” and is just glad that I will have another outlet for my enthusiasm.  It will also be great fun to meet other authors and find out about their writing and publishing techniques.

Of course, if you’re in Cambridge on that day, please do come by and say hello – it would be lovely to meet you.

Withdrawal symptoms

Be careful what you wish for…  I was so keen to finish the first draft of “Plank 2” – but now I find myself missing Samuel and Martha, John and William.  The temptation is there simply to turn to page one and start editing like crazy, but – as I explained yesterday – that is not my plan.  The words I have written are still too fresh in my mind for me to be able to step back and read them objectively (and such objectivity is particularly crucial when writing a mystery, as I discussed a few days ago), so I must be strong and resist the urge to start chatting to Sam again.

That said, the brain is an independent organ, and mine is still mulling things even without my permission.  And very early this morning I woke up and realised that I needed to change something in chapter one.  Harrumph.  I could sneak in there and make the change, but I think the smarter thing to do is just to make a note of my idea, and then throw it into the mix with the proper edit I’m planning for later.  But should I be worried that a man other than my husband is waking me up?

Now the hard work really begins

I thought you might like to know that I have completed the first draft of “Plank 2” (still awaiting a more attractive title – please help me decide by casting your vote here).  The final full-stop went in at 12h14 (that’s how the Swiss write their times, and they certainly know a bit about accuracy) – hurrah!

So what happens next?  Well, I am going to do a very quick read-through, to make sure I haven’t accidentally left big gaps or unanswered questions (I changed the name of one of the characters, and I need to check that I’ve changed it everywhere).  Then when I get home at the weekend I am going to mark all the locations that feature in the book on a big map of London (thanks to TfL for the ideal London cycling map) to check that they are all where I think they should be.  After leaving the draft to stew for a fortnight, I shall do a proper re-read, making changes as I go.  And at the end of August, I will send out the second draft to those who have kindly offered/agreed to act as readers – and I will be asking them to look not so much for typos as for sense.  Can they follow the plot?  Do they like it?  Is it exciting?  Is there enough Martha?  (Most of the readers of “Fatal Forgery” said that they would like a sequel to give a bigger role to Martha, Sam’s wife.)

When their comments come back, I will sob/cheer/take it on the chin, and then incorporate them into the third draft.  I already have a fair idea of what I want the cover to look like, and have been chatting to my lovely cover designer about it, so once we have a title we’ll be good to go on that.  Then I need to format the book (paperback and e-versions), write the blurb, upload it to a gazillion sites, promote it – heavens, it seems that writing the thing is the easy bit!