On the art of NOT BEING BORING

The last two days I’ve been writing, I’ve also been complaining. ‘Something’s wrong with this story,’ I told Valerie, and yet, when she asked what, I wasn’t sure. The closest I could come was ‘It’s boring.’

One of the pet sayings Valerie and I have when it comes to the books we write, as well as read, is that you have to leave out the boring bits. Those bits might be backstory, unnecessary action, or in my case this week – the characters themselves.

‘They’re boring,’ I said, finally. ‘They sit around living boring lives in a boring house.’

Characterisation is perhaps the most important thing to me these days when I’m writing. The people in my books are what brings the stories alive, and are also the movers and shakers during the writing phase. I don’t plot anything, so all the action and events in the book depend entirely on what sort of people I’m writing and the decisions they make.

Yesterday, it came time to make a decision about what I had so far on VIOLET, the new novel. I’d hit the 10 000 word mark, and it’s pretty much the magic number for knowing if a book is going to work or not (Having said that, however, I’ve been known in the past to go stupidly on for a lot longer). I decided it wasn’t working. Valerie agreed. I walked around in a funk, then I walked around in deep thought. Then I looked at Valerie with my most pathetic expression, and she told me what to do, presenting me with a lot of magic words, ideas, and some marvellous back-patting.

For now, I’m keeping the first chapter of VIOLET, but the rest is going. I’ve a new picture in my head, rather than the old one I carried around for this story – an idea I’ve had since 2012; and this one is going to work. I have that excited, shivery feeling about it, and I can see the characters in my mind; they’re moving, talking, and very much so not being boring. 

Which is the way it ought to be, don’t you think?