What a week…

Blimey. Tea and biscuits please, it's been one hell of a week. First there was my talk at Frome Festival, then a "tea time treats" meet the author event and then reading at ShortStoryVille, a marvellous short story extravaganza organised by the lovely Bristol Prize people.

And I'm shattered.

I was going to tell you about the events and what happened when I read some of the stories from From Dark Places to over 100 people (eeeep!) but now I'm here, the desire has left me. Suffice to say all of them went very well. I'm rubbish at talking about events after they've happened, I suppose I'm someone who prefers to look forwards rather than back. No, that's nonsense, I'm always reflecting on things, I think there's just something else on my mind.

Developing instinct

As I get older and uglier and write more books I've come to realise that one of the most important tools a writer has to develop is their instinct. That shiver down the back when something just works, that feeling of resistance when you're trying to shoehorn in a clumsy plot dump but haven't recognised it as one yet, they and many other moments come from an instinctive feeling about what is working in the writing and what is not. The same goes for learning how to plot a novel – learning your way to plot a novel. I've just ranted about that over at the Write Anything site by the way.

But where does this instinct come from? I've been wondering about that, as my instinct saved me from sending out a story to my Short Story Club before it was ready. I really thought it was ready to go, but when I gave it a last read through before setting it up to send out, it left me cold. Thankfully I listened to that instinct and gave myself time to let it roll around my brain for a while.

It turns out I'd only written half of the story, the other half revealed itself to me slowly. But oh, it was worth it and I'm really happy with how it turned out. More importantly, my readers were happy too and I had some fantastic feedback. Thank gravy for instinct.

It can be a visceral thing; when I write the end of a short story that is just right, all of the hairs on my body stand on end, like a lover breathing onto the back of my neck. When I'm thrashing out plotting options with my husband over coffee, and the right one comes up, I just… know it. I feel it first in my body, and then my conscious mind catches up.

Sometimes it's a shock

This is on my mind because of something that surprised me last night. Life (such as three author events in one week!) has pulled me away from book 3 again and I'm trying to get back into my flow. I put the manuscript onto my e-reader (over 96,000 words, which is nice) and read it to refresh my memory on where all my characters were emotionally and what plot points still needed to be resolved, when it hit me that a crucial decision I'd made about a certain character wasn't right for the book.

I can't go into details without howling spoilers, so I have to keep it vague, but it really shocked me. The instinct was telling me to write something completely different to what my head and my plot plan had decided. I'm used to my plans being changed as I write – that's why I use the "agile method" after all, but it's never happened for something this big before.

I've mulled it over, slept a lot less than I wanted, but I've decided to go with my gut. It's the right choice, it makes the book tighter and keeps it focused on one of the most important themes. What I originally planned was actually an indulgence, and I feel better about the ending now I can see that. But it's still quite a shock that I came so close to writing it, so late in the project.

It's not just the writing.

As I've been telling you about this (and I have no idea why I'm burbling at you about it, but there we go) I've remembered how listening to my gut has usually seen me right. The best example is my marriage. Years and years ago, when my husband was only a boyfriend, I lived a long way away from him and in a very unhappy life situation. My gut had been telling me to get out of it for a long time but I had ignored it, thinking I was being crap, just running away when in fact, ignoring that instinct was damaging my health and my happiness.

It took some time but in the end I listened to my instincts, removed myself from that situation and moved hundreds of miles to London, moving in with my boyfriend with no job certainty and no guarantee our relationship would go the distance.

In just over a fortnight it will be our sixth wedding anniversary, and our ninth year together as a couple.

The next phase

I've just realised why instinct, and trusting it, is on my mind; it's all to do with a super-secret project I'm working on making a reality. It's early days and there's a long way to go before seeing if it's viable, but my instinct is telling me to go for it. Let's hope it's right this time too…