‘Do you get confused with your own stories?’ On the intricacies of writing intricacies

Earlier this week, I was asked whether I ever become confused with the intricacies of my own plots. It was a wonderful question, from a reader who has become familiar with my penchant for plots that involve multiple storylines, all tracing out their own trajectories along intricate timelines, eventually intertwining and coming together - hopefully with ample twists and surprises along the way.

And the short answer is, ‘yes.’ Despite taking rather a lot of care to ensure timelines work out and storylines intersect as they’re supposed to (see a photograph I posted over on my Facebook page this week, demonstrating a small snippet of such timeline work), I do sometimes wonder just how it is that a, b and c are somehow going to lead into x, y and z. But as a writer, this is precisely how I think it ought to be. If it’s too clear to me, too early on, then it will be too clear to the reader - and the point is to have a touch of mystery and that good sort of confusion that keeps the mind working, trying to put the pieces together.

I like to drop myself into these stories, as I’m writing, in a similar way to how I drop in the reader: midway through the plotting, with details still needing to be explained. A story for which I know all the details up front, before writing has begun, is not a story that’s going to engage anyone.

And I’m a firm believer that good stories are never told from the beginning. ‘Let’s start at the very beginning...’ may make for a good musical number, but in a book I like to start at about the middle, leaning a bit towards the end. We meet characters who already have stories going, plots that are already in action, schemes already well and truly afoot; and the race is on to get to know them, to understand the things happening all around them, to sort out how story a, which seems to have nothing to do with story b, is in fact part of a larger, common thread.

The Keystone is built very much on this kind of structure. From the moment you start at the first page, you are dropped into plots - ancient and modern - that are already well into their flow of action; and you meet characters who are already in motion. They’re racing towards their own ends, and we have to learn who they are, and what those ends are, ‘en route.’ This strikes me as a reflection of real life. You don’t meet an FBI agent in the midst of some tactical operation, only to hear her say, ‘Hello, my name is Jane and I was born in Oklahoma, studied in New York and have a penchant for short-haired cats.’ You meet her as she says, ‘Get in the car, I need your help,’ and it’s only through glimpses and moments in the interactions that follow that you learn who she is, and just what sort of help she requires.

So yes, I do occasionally get confused, and have to ‘find my way through’ the intricacies of some of these plots: but that’s what makes this genre such fun - and hopefully keeps you engaged as you read.