I love books that tell me how other novelists work and this one is fantastic because Andrew Link hangs out with Lee Child, the author of the popular Jack Reacher novels (NB: I’ve never read one) as he’s writing his twentieth novel, Make Me. Link doesn’t just watch over Child’s shoulder as he writes (or smokes and drinks coffee and looks out the window); he also follows him to promotional events and discusses literature with him in coffee shops and restaurants across several continents.
I once met Lee Child. He was smoking a cigarette (undoubtedly a Camel) outside the entrance to the hotel in Cleveland where I was attending Bouchercon with my co-author Curt Colbert. Curt went out to smoke and I joined him but didn’t say anything to the great man, this somewhat mysterious star, because I had never read any of his books.
Link, who teaches in the Department of French at Cambridge, is constantly analyzing what Child is doing from the perspective of literary analysis. For instance this fancy passage which so aptly sums up for me part of the task of the novelist: “the point was to connect up stuff that wasn’t obviously adjacent or contiguous, but linked at some dark symbolic level. Adjacent ideas, obscure but harmonious images, resonances, affinities, recurrent phrases/words/refrains, syntactical echoes, the whole vast realm of the intransitive, governed only by association and similitude, all singing out to one another across the deeps, like blue whales miles apart in the ocean, like the distant rhymes of a lyric poem or song.”
Child’s method is quite different from most novelists. He starts each new novel on September 1 (the date he started his first novel) and he writes through to the end (in this case, he finished at around 109,000 words by April 10), intuitively feeling his way through the story, without outlining or otherwise anticipating what will happen. In that sense, he’s the reader as well as the writer.
Some of his aphorisms that I like: Never go back. Write the fast stuff slow and the slow stuff fast. There are really only two types of books. There is the one that makes you miss your stop on the subway. And there is the one that doesn’t. Ask a question and then don’t answer it.
I’ll be incorporating some of the ideas from this book, along with my insights from the Maass workshop, into my upcoming Novel Immersion class but I’m also considering adopting Child’s strategy for my revision, because that was the way I wrote my original books and, having just reread the first one (St John’s Wood) while formatting it, I can see it worked well. My current problem with revision is that I have so many different versions of the book (he’s a spy, no, he’s not; he’s dead, no he’s not; the house was sequestered in chapter one, no, in chapter two, no, not until the midpoint; the girl is actually bewitched, no, she’s faking it) that I am having trouble connecting all the lines and seeing how all the possible versions line up. If I just start from one intuitively recognized opening scene and proceed from there, I feel I would be able to connect all the dots and achieve that deep resonance that Link writes about.