Rachael Eyre's Blog - Posts Tagged "writing"

In my second to last entry, I let off a little steam on the subject of character names. Today I thought I'd expand upon it in more detail.

Let's get rid of a pernicious myth that seems to have grown up, shall we? The name is not the character- or, at least, it shouldn't be.

Think about it. When somebody is named in real time, there isn't a fairy hovering over the bassinet, saying, "Her name is Donatella Labonq, as befits the greatest porn star of all time!" The person fills the name, not the other way round; we only associate names like Genghis or Vlad with ruthless evil because of the most famous bearers of those names. Look at Harry Potter: before a certain boy wizard, he could have been anyone or anything- a bus driver, a company CEO. (And would the Dursleys really have housed somebody called Ezekiel Moonglow?)

This hang up seems to be left over from children's books and comics, where everybody has an incredibly appropriate moniker and appearance. I love these as much as the next person, but once you start writing serious fiction for adults, you really must stop such blatant tactics. Yes, a private eye with a jet black goatee called Jack Raven might sound cool, but if that's all you've got to go on, you'll end up with wafer thin characterisation and plot twists that surprise nobody. A guy called Cain kills his brother? You don't say!

Perhaps related to this, there seems to be a strange snobbishness about character names. Ordinary surnames like Evans or Williams are sniffed at as "too common" (I'm sure people with those surnames appreciate that!), ignoring a pertinent point: if your character has an "ordinary" name, there's far less chance of a real life person taking offence at you portraying them as a corrupt politician/wife murderer/ general slimeball etc, and suing you for every penny you've got. It sounds far fetched but such things have happened! There's also a tendency to peg people with certain names as chavs, trollops etc, surely saying far more about the reader's classist and sexist assumptions than anything else.

I had a run in with this kind of thinking with my second book, The Revenge of Rose Grubb. When the book wasn't selling as well as I would have liked, I went on the Author page and asked for feedback. While they said the main issue was with the cover and blurb- something I heartily agreed with, and fixed- one contributor said perhaps the name put readers off, saying it denoted an "unsympathetic character".

Now this I found bizarre. People can't help the names they're born with; the UK phone book teems with people called Death, Smelly and Crapper. Although the story's an urban fantasy, I've tried to keep it realistic in most places, meaning most of the characters aren't saddled with outré names. (Apart from the girl called Persephone, but that's another story) ... This seems to be going with the idea that everybody in fiction should have a glamorous, Mills and Boon surname like Dexter or Rushton- a notion I reject. I was also puzzled by the statement that Rose and Frances were "older" names; not only are the two women in their forties, but Brits regularly call babies names like Grace and Alfie, meaning there's no such thing as an 'anachronistic' name. (And, indeed, soon there's going to be a generation of grandparents called Scott and Kylie!)

There have been many debates about this, seemly and unseemly, but in the end it comes down to this simple test:

1) Does the name suit the character?- I don't mean this in the cut and paste, Saul Sinister sense but in the "Can you imagine him being called anything else?" sense. There is no reason why a man called Leeroy can't be a sensitive, devoted lover, or a girl called Felicity can't kick major ass. People are more than their names, after all!

2) Do you like the name?- Like anybody else, authors have names they love and names they loathe (I shan't list these for risk of offending anyone!) Naming a character after a personal hero or your worst enemy is absolutely fine, provided they're clearly a fictional creation and not lifted directly from life. Or it may be a happy coincidence: you may find that a pair of names sound great together, and- better still- perfectly fit that character who's just sauntered into your head.

Ultimately, your name is your key identifier throughout your life. You may find it embarrassing, grow fed up with it being misspelt or mistaken for every other name with the same letter, but it's your one and only name and you can't imagine being called anything else.

With only so many plots at your disposal, how does your "romp with lots of sex and explosions" stand apart from the rest? By the most important (yet for some reason underrated) tool in the writer's goodybag: CHARACTERS.

Never mind that blinding twist or futuristic setting, your characters are what makes your story unique. Look at Les Mis: it could have been a standard rags to riches story with a failed revolution thrown in. Instead it has Jean Valjean, the fiery former convict who refuses to be embittered by his trials- or, if you're like me and prefer awkward customers, his opposite number, the good-but-blinkered, borderline Aspergic Javert. Their unforgettable game of cat and mouse drives the plot and has made it one of the most adapted novels of all time.

But where do great characters come from? Some writers are coy, maintaining their creations just swan into their heads fully grown. While that may be the case in special instances, more often it's a case of trial and error. Never mind their vital stats; if it ever gets made into a film, your plain bookish heroine will be transformed into a boobular blonde anyway. Ask deeper questions: what do they most regret? What would they do if they won the lottery? Who was their first love? What is their proudest achievement?

Some people are sniffy about drawing characters. I say: why not? Not only does it get their appearance, physicality and dress sense straight in your head, it helps you create those so called "iconic moments", meaning all you have to do later is write 'em up.

If characters don't arrive in a beam of light, where do they come from? There are three techniques commonly used by writers, all of which have their pitfalls:

1) Guess Who?

Ever read a book, looked at the dustjacket and realised the author eerily resembles their protagonist?
While most authors are more subtle than this, there are still clues: does a particular character get more screen time than their role warrants? Does the narration (and other characters) big them up? Does everyone fall in love with them for no apparent reason? Alternatively, the character may be a major player and serve a purpose, but they're the target of deprecating comments (JK Rowling's Hermione is a good example).

It's easy to see why writing a character based on yourself is so popular. You don't have to go far for material, you know yourself inside out, it's likelier to be convincing. But think about it: if you're essentially a bystander, like so many writers, are you a natural fit for a frenetic action adventure? Would you really serve as the hero for your rom com? Part of the reason why many of us write is we're never going to have adventures ourselves.

2) Write Who You Know

The second, no less travelled road is taking somebody else, be it your mother, vet or that teacher who made your life hell, and transplanting them into your book. Again, easy peasy- but think of the shortcomings. No amount of "Any similarity to persons living and dead" will cut it; one of these days they'll pick it up (doubly so if they're a relative) and recognise themselves. Although getting your own back is highly satisfying, imagine how YOU would feel if somebody assassinated you in print. The safest route is to mix it up- use characteristics, even actual acts if you like, but don't for pity's sake point a massive "This Douchebag is You" sign at them.

3) The Paper Doll Factory

Once upon a time, borrowing other people's characters was verboten. You might if you were writing stories for your personal entertainment- I wrote a whole series about Darth Vader's love for a girl disguised as a man, for crying out loud- but you'd never think of publishing it. There's such a thing as copyright, right?

Thanks to Certain Fan Fics Turned Into Novels (TM), that isn't the case any more. Get enough money and exposure and your hastily revised juvenilia can become a publishing sensation.

Although this has proved hugely successful, do you really want everybody reading your book to say, "Isn't this James Bond with stubble?" Readers are smarter than writers give them credit for; they can tell the difference between a lovingly crafted character and a clone.

Then again, maybe The Death Star Diaries could do with a revival ...

When you write, it's all too easy to get caught up in the exciting side of the process. Brainstorming ideas, buying seductive new stationery, clickety clacking away on your laptop like you're in Murder, She Wrote. Once your first draft is complete, it's tempting to bung it in the nearest envelope and mail it away to an undoubtedly delighted publisher.

That isn't how it works.

Often, an author has only read their novel all the way through once, or staggered it over a number of sessions (reading a 400+ page novel takes ages). This isn't anywhere near enough to ensure it's of publishable quality. You can have the best plot and characters in the world, but if your manuscript is cluttered with typos and inconsistencies, an agent is unlikely to read past the first page.

It may seem shallow, but think about it: an employer scanning the CVs of two equally qualified candidates will select the well presented, accurate one over the scruffy, unintelligible one. The same holds true for your MS.

Spelling and grammar

News flash: not all writers are excellent spellers. Daphne du Maurier's was dreadful; luckily she had the understanding Victor Gollancz as a publisher. Nowadays the market is far more competitive and publishers have to be ruthless. Don't give them this most basic of reasons to reject your work.

If you know spelling is your weak point, spell check your MS within an inch of its life. Pay a proofreader if you can afford it. Indeed, a human touch is preferable- your spell check won't spot commonly confused words or sentences that don't make any sense. I was recently reading a book where every time the word 'stationery' (i.e pens and paper) appeared, it was spelt 'stationary' as in still, and 'past' (as in 'the man walked past') as 'passed'. Perhaps I'm too finicky but it really detracted from my enjoyment. Considering this book has been extensively hyped, it's surprising nobody has picked up on this.

Nor should it be any different if you self publish. Not only does poor spelling offend the reader, it'll seem to confirm oft heard arguments that self published authors are sloppy, lazy, untalented etc. Confound expectations and make your MS as professional as you can.

Clangers

It would be wonderful if writing could be linear, but in reality it's higgledy piggledy. You might have a crisis of confidence and shove your book in a drawer for a month. You may write chapters out of chronological order. You might change your mind and delete entire sections, or stick new ones in.

When this happens, it's easy to fall down the gaps. You may decide to change your heroine's name but forget to do it in all instances. If the story's heavily autobiographical, you may slip your own name in by accident (this occurs in works by respected authors!) A scene may begin in tropical heat and end in a snowstorm; flowers may bloom at the wrong time of year; characters' ages, appearances and personalities may drastically change. Again, this isn't confined to amateurs; Sir Arthur Conan Doyle could never remember where Watson's war wound was located. At one point he even forgets the good doctor's name!

Lack of research

Back in the day, a writer could be forgiven (if not excused) for making mistakes. Now, with the Internet at your fingertips, you can access every piece of esoteric knowledge on the planet.

Unsure about the exact provenance of a quote? Don't know who the first man in space was? Google it. As we all know from real life, there's few things as irritating as somebody gabbling on when we know the answer! A lackadaisical attitude is particularly offensive when it's a major plot point. I have no idea which version of Swan Lake the writers of Black Swan had watched, but it's nothing like the ballet I know and love.

Words

Writers love words, and a thesaurus should never be far away. But are you positive you're using the right ones?

It never ceases to astonish how many writers misuse words and expressions. It's as though they've thought: "Oh, that sounds good," but not troubled to look it up. I've read about heroines with 'transparent' skin (yuk!), seen 'truculent' as a substitute of shy and retiring (it most certainly is not) and all kinds of meanings attached to 'insidious'. A favourite seems to be 'egregious'; you could play a drinking game for every time it's used online. For the record, it means "outstandingly bad", not the various permutations it's undergone!

True story: I once wrote an article for the school newspaper, opening: "Perceptive parents will have noticed." Somewhere, somehow, this was changed to "prospective parents", which makes no sense at all! This happened sixteen years ago, but I can still remember how angry and upset I was that it had been changed - not to mention the fact that nobody else seemed to notice!

Although we're often advised against using common expressions on the grounds they're cliched (another overused word!), a world where they're never employed would be a surreal place. Bar idiosyncratic ones you've created, it's jarring when you get them wrong. Once they've figured out what you mean, a reader will think, "That's in common parlance, how did they mix it up?" If a character is intended to be pretentious but thick or have difficulty with such expressions, go ahead; if it's in the narrative, there's an issue.

Formatting

I have a confession to make: when I started my creative writing course, my formatting was appalling. I didn't have a clue about paragraphs, indents and spacing. Then, as now, I was a voracious reader, and tried to put what I'd seen into practice, but it wasn't enough. You need to actively learn.

Regard formatting as a gift to the reader. It's your duty to make it as clear and easy to follow as possible. Be consistent: if you've used speech marks up to now, don't suddenly jack them in. Break up paragraphs- there's nothing more intimidating to your reader than a solid block of text, no end in sight. Make sure your punctuation flows and, more to the point, does its job.

Remember...

Like much else, editing is highly personal. You might prefer to bash it out over a long weekend, or proofread as you go along. Since we all reach a stage where we can't see errors for looking, it's worth printing it out and arming yourself with a multicoloured biro. Use different colours for the different types of slip up.

Even then you can never 100% guarantee that you've found every mistake. I know there are typos in my books, and blush whenever I think of them. The most important thing is to prevent it becoming a pattern: while a reader may make allowances for the odd typo or rogue comma, they won't by the tenth.

There's been an interesting discussion over the past few weeks on the Author's Forum. Does taking risks with your work pay off, or does it only alienate would be readers?

Naturally, "risk" is in the eye of the beholder. What may be an acceptable level of profanity to one reader may outrage somebody else; one generation's hardcore pornography might be another's sweet romantic fluff. The sexiest thing that happens in The Well of Loneliness is Stephen kissing her first girlfriend "full on the lips as a lover" - hardly enough to warrant an obscenity trial! And values shift dramatically from one nation to the next: while Americans protest at sixteen year olds having sex, Brits blanch at gun ownership.

If you didn't set out to break taboos, it can be frustrating defending your writing against accusations of lawlessness. Though possibly some authors thrive on the notoriety; I wouldn't know.

Here's a quick rundown of dicy areas that may affect the reception of your novel. It's worth researching your chosen genre to clarify your position.

Homosexuality

As an out and proud writer, I wish this wasn't the case. You'd think that now we had equal rights in many parts of the world, we'd be almost respectable. Unfortunately the reception of some of my work has forcibly reminded me this isn't so. Nothing seems to offend certain readers more than discovering that a book they assumed was straight has lashings of gay.

You can't win. Despite The Governess being clearly encoded as a pink book, with 'Lesbian' as its primary tag on Amazon, some readers have managed to miss it, and they're very vocal in their displeasure. To avoid vitriolic homophobic reviews, make sure your blurbs spell it out. It'll save a lot of heartache and teeth gnashing.

Violence

Violence in books is divisive, and quite rightly. While there's an age rating on a film, letting you know what level of gore to expect, there's no corresponding warning on novels. If anything, it can be worse than the equivalent scene in a movie: while you're fully aware these characters are played by actors and their wounds are achieved by special effects, you haven't that sop when characters in a book are maimed or killed.

Being of a squeamish disposition, I avoid genres where there's likely to be strong violence, particularly against women and children. I hate the way violence against women has become fetishised. It's agreed that rape and sexual abuse are monstrous evils, so why do we have to see them graphically represented?

Cruelty to animals

Somehow, somewhere, the idea that violence against animals "doesn't count" or can even be funny has taken shape. 'Want to show your budding sociopath's depravity?' an unknown writer's tool kit seems to have asked. 'Show him chucking puppies in the river!'

It's rare for me to discard books, but I couldn't finish Iain Banks' The Wasp Factory. Eighty pages of the narrator torturing and blowing up animals was more than enough. I love animals and can't stand to see even imaginary ones suffer. Before anyone accuses me of being soppy, my partner's dad had the exact same reaction.

Taboo relationships

Sexual attraction, we can all agree, is a many coloured kaleidoscope, but there are certain areas that should be left well alone. Unless you wish to grossly offend your readers, don't attempt to show a sexual relationship between an adult and a child in a positive light, or one between close relations. These taboos are in place for a reason. The notion propagated by old romances that women invariably fall in love with their rapists is unacceptable in a modern piece.

Other types of relationship are down to personal preference. There is nothing wrong with a twenty year old man in love with a forty year old woman, or vice versa, but society has plenty to say about such matches, especially the latter. Think about Jane Eyre and Mr Rochester - few fathers in law would see a forty-something with a previous marriage and an illegitimate daughter as an appropriate husband for their nineteen year old!

The societal prejudices and pressures against these relationships are likely to pose a major plot point. If this is the central love story in your novel, make it clear that the connection between your couple is so strong, other concerns are secondary.

Racism, sexism and the rest

There are some views that should have gone out with the Ark, but, sadly, look like they'll be with us for a good while yet. Even unintentional blunders risk alienating readers: think of James Bond's attitudes towards women, prevalent then but atrocious now, or mindless racist stereotypes. I was horrified by a recent book, a prize winner no less, that uses the phrase "yellow devil" in all seriousness.

Read your book as though you're a complete stranger. Is there any reason why most of the ethnic minorities in the story are criminals? Don't assume that because a woman looks a particular way, she's "easy" (and surely what other people do with their bodies is their business?) Don't make sweeping generalisations about other faiths because that's all you remember from tabloid news and TV shows.

Black comedy

When you're writing humour, the best advice is to keep it reasonably clean. You may have the world's greatest collection of sex jokes, but the reader doesn't know you; blurting out a filthy joke after only a short acquaintance is like swearing at the vicar. You may be applauded in your inner circle for risqué wit, but you can guarantee that many more will find gags about bestiality, necrophilia and paedophilia distasteful in the extreme. If you have any doubts, leave it out.

Last Thursday British fans of How I Met Your Mother finally learned how the long running rom com ends. In case you're unfamiliar with the show, it's the story of how Ted Mosby meets the love of his life, told to his teenaged kids in the year 2030. The hook is, Ted is the sort of guy whose memory goes off on bizarre tangents, particularly the exploits of his wacky friends.

Since I refuse to give away spoilers, I won't say what happens, only that it caused a ruckus Stateside when it was first shown. I can't help but feel this anger is misplaced. Yes, we're emotionally invested in Ted's quest for love, but it's as much about the framing device and making use of the opportunities such a unique structure brings.

I'll come clean now: I've always had a yen for framing devices. If used well, they can lend a work real depth and poignancy. We know, for example, that Humbert Humbert has died from a heart attack, but what first time readers may miss, hidden amongst the 'Where are they now?' notes at the beginning, is that Lolita has recently died in childbirth. And few things make a reader as angry as the Appendix of The Handmaid's Tale, where the smug and unlikable history professor doubts the veracity of the account.

It's probably for this reason that I love the early books in Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next series. Thursday is able to jump in and out of books and meet the characters in between chapters. While it's great to meet Bronte characters off duty, I've personally always wanted to know about framing device characters. What are they doing when the main action's being related? What happens to Hooper, the young soldier described in such detail in Brideshead Revisited? How does Wormwood reply to his uncle Screwtape's letters? I itch to write about these unsung heroes who prop a story up, but won't leap on the 'zany take on a well loved classic' bandwagon.

Here are a few works with fabulous framing devices, showing how effective they are at their very best.

One Thousand and One Nights

Although the ancient Persian collection has given us many gems, not least Aladdin, the most interesting thing is arguably the premise itself.

Sultan Shahryar is a man with a grudge. His wife was unfaithful, so he embarks upon a terrible vendetta: he keeps taking a new bride, only to have her executed the next morning. When the supply of eligible virgins dries up, Scheherazade, his vizier's daughter, puts herself forward as the next bride. Scheherazade is as brainy as she is beautiful, and a masterly storyteller. She gets into a cycle of telling the most wonderful yarns, cutting them short at the exciting parts. Naturally Shahryar keeps her alive to hear the next instalment. A thousand and one nights and several children later, the Sultan is deeply in love and sees the error of his ways.

If you ask me, this is more suspenseful and intriguing than any magic lamp. It's also palpably unfair: why should clever, lovely Scheherazade be shackled to this monster? She deserves better!

The Canterbury Tales

Although it can't rival One Thousand and One Nights for length and scope, The Canterbury Tales is still a marvellous set up. A band of pilgrims, drawn from every tier of society, are riding to Thomas Becket's shrine. To help pass the time, they agree to tell stories, with pub landlord Harry Bailey acting as judge. While not all of them are good - Chaucer, in a self deprecating cameo, tells the decidedly silly story of Sir Topaz, and the Prioress's Tale is a revolting piece of anti Semitic propaganda - others are superb. Watch out for the bawdy Miller's Tale, the unforgettable Wife of Bath, and Chanticleer the rooster, one of the earliest examples of an engaging anthropomorphic animal.

Citizen Kane

What drove billionaire industrialist Charles Foster Kane, who died an eccentric, unmourned recluse on his estate Xanadu? And what was the meaning of his last word, "Rosebud"? Taking these questions as his remit, the reporter Thompson (we never see his face) travels far and wide to speak to Kane's associates, whether his erstwhile friend Jed or his drunken ex Susan Alexander. It's a fantastic bit of storytelling, and even though the ending has passed into common knowledge, still a cracking film.

The Princess Bride

The Princess Bride is unusual in that both book and film rely heavily on the framing device - and it pulls it off brilliantly. The novel purports to be the "less boring" version of a book by S Morgenstern, with fictional equivalents of the author and his family popping up. Since this would be impossible to adapt, the film takes a different approach. A mouthy kid is sick in bed, having The Princess Bride read to him by his granddad. Initially snarky about the story and reluctant to spend time with his grandpa, he gradually warms up to both. It's lovely to watch, and the gently bickering Peter Falk and Fred Savage turn in terrific performances.

Amadeus

Amadeus takes a popular legend - that court composer Antonio Salieri secretly loathed Mozart, and plotted his destruction - and runs with it. The set up is based on actual events: a crazed Salieri did indeed cut his throat, and claim he'd murdered Mozart. What happens next - an epic tale of passion, jealousy and vengeance, with the best soundtrack in film history - is pure fantasy, but spellbinding. The elderly Salieri (F Murray Abraham) spills all in confession to a naive young priest. He acts as audience surrogate as we learn of Salieri's grudge match against God - and how, decades later, the infuriating, giggling genius has had the last laugh.

Over the years I've gobbled many books. Good, bad and indifferent; modern and classic; gentle comedy and gory horror. I've loved some and hated others, but they've all helped me to understand what constitutes great writing. Rich characters, snappy dialogue and original plots depend upon one crucial thing: the ability to successfully convey to your reader what the heck is going on.

I don't know if this is a recent development, or if it's no longer being taught on creative writing courses, but I've noticed a rash of novels that leave you stranded amidst the where, when and who. Let's have a quick look at how this can be avoided.

You Are Here

I had an unsettling out of body experience recently. Don't call Mulder and Scully; I was reading the newest instalment in a long running series. Ambling along, I thought the ragtag crew of militia and dragons were in one place - only to be rudely informed that they were now mid flight, and somewhere else entirely!

I skipped back a page. Had I dozed off during this not-very-exciting episode? Nope: no matter how often I read it, there was nothing to indicate the characters were on the move, not even a throwaway reference.

Be fair to your readers. Just as you wouldn't dump a party guest in the middle of nowhere wearing a blindfold, don't leave your audience groping for a sense of place. Signpost every change of scene. You don't need lavish backdrops and yodelling extras every time; a simple "They walked to the station" or "He stopped by the office" will suffice.
Without these prompts, your reader will assume that Dave is still in the queue at the building society, so they will be justifiably startled if seconds later he's on board a cruise ship sipping a piña colada.

Hijacked by the Tardis

One of the biggest bonuses of writing is the unlimited budget. You can whisk readers away to exotic climes and use special effects that would reduce Spielberg to tears. Best of all, a book of four hundred pages can span as many years.

Unfortunately some authors are so engrossed in the story, they forget to throw such an important lifeline. We're not talking about Roman centurions high fiving, though that's bad enough. This is when a chapter begins in January and, without a word of notice, lurches into July; when the likeable side character you hoped would stick around dies tragically between chapters, with only a cursory mention.

If your story spans many years or, still more confusingly, see saws back and forth in time, have the courtesy to acknowledge the fact. Use stars, regardless of unsightliness, or head chapters with the year they take place. Don't be vague: "several months later" doesn't give the picture, while "five months to the day" does. You may have the timeline for your novel on your computer somewhere, but your reader isn't privy to such information.

Who's who

Creating a fictional world is a thrilling experience, and you can't blame an author for wanting to populate it with interesting people. Though a large cast of characters undoubtedly enhances a story, the writer can occasionally bite off more than they can chew.

If a story opens with a young girl beginning her freshman year at college, you don't expect the action to inexplicably switch to an African warlord, or an extreme sports fanatic in Iceland. Though there may be a common factor linking these disparate characters, this won't be immediately obvious to the reader. You need to show why these characters are here, and why they should care. Too many shifts will give them whiplash.

Another issue I've noticed: if a character has been introduced by one name, use that name throughout unless he has a reason to adopt an alias. Changing names mid story or using a previously unknown nickname confuses the reader. Have your character say, "My name's Charlotte, but everyone calls me Charlie," or something similar. Not only is this a defining trait (the tomboyish Charlie despises her "prissy" name), it can tip the reader off when something's not quite right (why is she suddenly answering to Charlotte when we know she hates it?)

Most Shakespeare tragedies. Paradise Lost. A Clockwork Orange. House of Cards.

What do the above works have in common?

They feature a protagonist who is thoroughly reprehensible - yet, since they're the focalising character, we're forced to view events from their perspective. We watch Iago gleefully wreck a marriage and egg on Urquhart / Underwood as he schemes into the corridors of power. A certain school of thought claims that by letting ourselves be deceived by Milton's Satan, only to be gradually disillusioned, we're enacting the Fall ourselves.

Employed well, it's a fantastic device, making for an unforgettable (albeit twisted) story. It isn't to everybody's taste, however. Some readers won't thank you for sharing the thoughts of a psychopath and may complain even when you gave them ample warning.

Today I'm going to look at one of the most controversial leads in fiction, Lolita's Humbert Humbert, and how he influenced the writing of my own monstrous protagonist, Miss Benson.

An enchanted hunter?

Lolita is simultaneously one of the most lauded and vilified novels of the last century. On discovering its plot - pedophile abducts and terrorises his orphaned stepdaughter - many declare they'll never read it. Thanks to the Kubrick film, it's filtered into popular consciousness as a teen sex pot seducing a hapless academic. Even a chunk of readers interpret it this way. This is how Humbert presents it, and who's going to doubt the word of a serial sex offender on trial for murder? Of course he'll be scrupulously honest.

Read carefully, Lolita is actually the story of a pathetic, deluded man in love with his own lies. Nabokov lampoons him mercilessly, whether through his own narration, where he's ludicrously vain and pretentious (he describes himself as a "big hunk of movieland manhood" and uses such risible gems as "the vortex of the toilet" or "the sceptre of my passion") or through tactless, down to earth Lo, who's stuck listening to his drivel ("Speak English!") This is a man who blanches at slang, swearing and anything else he deems vulgar, but thinks it's acceptable to prey upon children. He defends his behaviour by claiming there's a rare breed of demoniac girls he calls nymphets, who have knowledge and guile beyond their years, yet manages to find one wherever he goes.

Bizarrely, some readers take him at face value. They only see the suave, erudite surface, and agree with him that because Lolita has lost her virginity to an older boy, she has no innocence to protect. (How do we know this isn't one of Humbert's face saving lies? He planned to ravish her before he knew this). They prefer to recast it as an unorthodox love story, with Lo the knowing minx and Humbert her bedazzled slave.

Perhaps it's because of the inclusion of Quilty, Humbert's rival, who's far closer to the image of a "real" pedophile. Quilty's tendencies are an open secret but he's protected by his status as a famous playwright; he's bombastic, unalluring and sports a sinister moustache. Chuck into the mix Gaston Godin, a lonely old professor with a yen for young boys, and you realise what Humbert's up to. Since he isn't a sleazy crook like the one or a sad sack like the other, he can't possibly be a congenital pervert.

Write your own monster

I first borrowed Lolita aged sixteen (cue splutters from the librarian, scandalised family friends etc.) Though much of it went over my head - and likely always will - I was fascinated by its depiction of a deranged criminal with zero self awareness, and filed it away for future use. I went on to uni, studied creative writing. Although I had various projects on the go, the time was never right for a Humbertian figure. There was only one condition: she had to be female. Evil women are woefully underrepresented in fiction, possibly because they're taken as an attack on the sex when they do appear. (Saying more about the misogyny of critics, surely).

I was rummaging through my old papers, trying to kickstart a new story, when I came across a poem I'd written called Miss Amy. A morality piece about an aristocrat racking up dead lovers, it's narrated by a judgemental servant - but who was this unknown woman, and what was her relationship to Amy?

Suddenly Benny materialised: the ghastly, egocentric female Humbert I'd been brewing for years. Like him, she professes to be in love but has no understanding of or interest in her beloved; like him, she sneers down her nose at everybody else despite her inferior rank and moral turpitude. It was so liberating debunking all those hoary old governess stories! Don't tell me that The Sound of Music wouldn't be greatly improved by intrigue and sapphic shenanigans.

I lightly pencilled in a backstory - a cruel and neglectful mother, a dalliance with a teacher - but that doesn't really matter. Sociopaths have no conscience so they have no memory. Benny begins when the story proper begins: when she claps eyes on Amy and falls head first into obsession.

The rules are simple: take a sizeable quaff of the beverage of your choice if anyone has ever said any of the following to or about you ...

1) "You write? Nice hobby / sounds like a cushy job / but what do you really do?"

2) (If you write fantasy) "Oh, you mean like JK Rowling?" (or any other author you aren't remotely like)

3) "They say everyone's got a book in them ..."

4) "Oh, I could never write a book, I'm not clever enough ..."

5) "Put in lots of raunchy bits, that'll help it sell!" (Take another drink if oracle is an elderly relative)

6) "How is your book 'going'?" (Generally asked in the middle of a social gathering, where all the other guests gawp at you)

7) "Haven't you finished that yet?"

8) (If you tell them the plot of your latest) "Oh, I don't like the sound of that, I prefer books that are more ..."

9) "Why don't you write more books like [insert the name of your debut novel]?"

10) "How can blogging be a job? It's just writing stuff!"

11) "Are any of your characters based on people you know?" (Extra drink if they've inspired one, but you'd rather they didn't know ...)

12) "I liked everything but the main character; I didn't like him / her at all ..." - when the story is autobiographical!

13) "There were too many Britishisms -" re: a UK based story with a British lead

14) "It wasn't my cup of tea, I don't like paranormal romance / sci fi / historical novels -" despite that being your book's genre, and it's clearly advertised as such

15) "I didn't know this was a gay book" (same as above)

16) (Describing your book to somebody else in front of you) "Oh, it's about ..." and getting every last plot point wrong, including the story's intended message. It seems rude to correct them!

17) "You write? My ex / uncle / vicar's an author; they're a little bit weird ..."

18) (Re: an acquaintance who's a well known writer) "They bashed their head and they've been funny ever since." (It's startling how many writers this has happened to!)

19) "Why don't you write a book where ..." They go on to describe something that already exists. When you gently point this out, they say, "But the main character's a [insert outré feature here]." Extra drink if it resembles Star Wars

20) (If you say you work from home) "Oh, that sounds boring ..."

21) "Who's interested in what you have to say?"

22) "There are millions of books already, how is yours any different?"

23) "Self publishing? Isn't that like vanity publishing?"

24) (If you say you're self published) "Good for you. There's too many gatekeepers in traditional publishing ..."

25) "Writers' block doesn't exist, it's just an excuse ..."

26) "Why are you writing this blog rather than getting on with your book?"

From experience I've found that writers tend to fall into two camps. There are the outgoing, talkative and industrious types, who don't mind discussing themselves and their work, and there are the shy, reclusive types who find any form of self promotion acutely embarrassing. Guess which camp I belong in?

Don't get me wrong, I love writing. It's been my life for as long as I can remember. But the instant I'm asked to push myself and my work, I clam up. I'm afflicted by one hundred and one complexes: my gran's stern pronouncement "Self praise is no recommendation," my mum's horrible ex declaring that no one would be interested in what I have to say, my own crippling self doubt. In no area is this more entrenched than performing my own work.

Psychoanalysis time: my mum was a terrific reader when my sister and I were kids, putting on all the voices. She's still the yardstick by which I measure all storytelling. When I went to school, I copied her, because I assumed that's what you did. Unfortunately this helped establish me as a complete weirdo; teachers and classmates alike were unnerved by my enthusiasm. It made me so wretchedly self conscious, I'd stammer and stumble on words, meaning I was stuck in a low reading group for years. I flew through books in my spare time but couldn't manage a simple passage if asked to read aloud. We even had to wear badges according to our reading grade, for Pete's sake.

As you can imagine, my hangup increases tenfold if I'm asked to perform my own writing. The issue lies with that word "perform"; you're no longer expected to drone from the page, as was customary at school. The received wisdom is that if you hope to be a success, you'll be expected to read aloud, but what if you're an atrocious reader? What if you freeze up at the thought of all those pairs of eyes staring at you? You can't even say, "Oh, Stephen Fry can do the audiobook," because chances are there won't be an audiobook.

This is where the performance cheerleaders cite the example of Charles Dickens, a member of Camp 1 if there ever was one. His enormous success can partly be attributed to regular performances of his work; his favourite extract seems to have been Nancy's murder in Oliver Twist, which he enacted with creepy gung ho. If Dickens wasn't too proud to perform his work, the reasoning appears to be, then you should put up with it, you awkward little gobshite. You could argue that Dickens was already a celebrity, and people would have heard him recite any old tosh, but that's besides the point.

I was forced to confront my monster when I was asked to perform some of my work earlier this week. It was a twenty five minute set, mine to do whatever I liked with. I had an existing story that lasted fifteen minutes, pruned of my more subversive elements, but what the heck was I going to do with the remaining fifteen?

This being Election Night, it obviously had to refer to the occasion in some way. I was stumped until one of the girls in the staff canteen commented that the party leaders were "working like robots"; I quickly had an idea that there was a government facility creating bespoke politicians. One of these days I'll feature it on this blog, but because it includes a character from my current book and might be regarded as a spoiler, I'll leave it for the time being. I timed myself reading the new piece: ten minutes thirty seconds. I could always knock out bits I didn't think flowed.

The night of the show, my only props were the stories (in massive font, double spaced), a large Coke and a microphone. I dragged myself over to the performance space, my legs seemingly fused. A maddening tickle developed in my throat. I took a deep breath and started to read.

It was ... okay, I suppose. As you'd expect from having the last set on Election Night, attention was waning and people were checking the results none too subtly on their phones, but the people who were actually listening laughed at the jokes. Overall, it was useful practice, and earned £16 I wouldn't have had otherwise. Maybe I should brush up on my projection skills and perform at the next open mike night ...

Every interview with an author features the big question: "Why are you a writer?" For the record, it should be a 'how' rather than a 'why' - it's not as though we're bitten by a radioactive insect and decide to embark upon this isolated, frustrating but wonderful career. So here's my how rather than why.

I was seven years old. My parents were going through a particularly acrimonious breakup. My father was a narcissist who viewed my sister and I as weapons to hurt my mum. I haven't the heart to recount the vile things he said and did. Suffice to say, I spent much of my childhood in therapy.

I was a hellcat in those days. I was anti authoritarian and anti religion even as a child; I practically lived outside the headmaster's office. I hadn't been diagnosed as dyspraxic yet, so my poor social skills and constant state of simmer were a source of misery and confusion, especially to Mum. She must have wondered how she had produced Jane - a model pupil who was never in trouble - and this anarchic hoyden. I might have served as a billboard for the dismal effects of a broken home. My teachers had already written me off.

Then we were given the assignment. Who knows why it affected me so powerfully. Perhaps it's because we were asked to be creative - our previous essays had been along the lines of "Describe your last holiday", or, at a stretch, "You're in the Roman army. How do you feel?" (I still smart at being told the sentence, 'Me, the army and the elephants' didn't make sense. Perhaps that explains my loathing of Write Your Own History tasks). Mrs O'Brien only had two directives: we could write about whatever we liked and it had to be original.

I suspect that if I read 'In the Haunted House' today, I'd die of embarrassment. Probably Mum has it stashed away somewhere. At the time it was the most joyful thing I had done. Drawing upon Roald Dahl, my favourite writer, and illustrated by Jane, it ran to twenty eight pages. The scene with the giant spider was agreed to be the highlight.

The effect of this project - which I'd loved doing - was astounding. It was read aloud to the other classes; even old enemies on the staff congratulated me. My thoughts were reeling. I could get this much praise from writing a story? Had I found something I was actually good at?

They say music can soothe the savage beast. I wouldn't know - I'm virtually tone deaf. But writing changed me from an underachieving ankle biter to someone with a passion, a vocation.

Some creations were more durable than others. Gloria the genie (a drag queen before I'd even seen one) was blasted for continually using the word 'frigging', which I innocently thought meant 'very'. I asked what it meant and my teacher refused to tell me. Ziggy, my beloved imaginary dragon friend, appeared in every format from diaries to scripts. There were comics, plays, rock operas (blame Andrew Lloyd Webber) and half written books. I managed to finish two, So Faithful a Follower and The Fortnum Files. They were both sent to publishers.

With fourteen years' distance I can see they made the right decision. Who'd publish something by a half formed teenager? (It didn't help that The Fortnum Files, a vehicle for Ziggy, had gone to a press that specialised in erotica). But at fifteen I had no sense of perspective and a humongous ego. I'd swing between thinking they were cowboys with no appreciation of my genius (!) to lamenting my lost talent, and planning to bid it farewell in a symbolic ceremony. I was a pretentious little git.

When I learned you could study creative writing at uni, I was stunned. I immediately applied to the two that provided it, Warwick and Lancaster. Warwick was a no go - I hadn't passed my Maths GCSE at that point - but Lancaster made a provisional offer for 3 Bs.

The rest is history.