I am not, if I’m honest, what you would call an organised person.
Open my handbag and you will find neither diary, nor pen. A stash of wine gums, yes, maybe the odd out of date voucher.
I do not remember to charge my phone or fill the car with petrol.
I have friends who keep colour coded wall charts that tell them where every member of their family should be at any given moment. They organise children’s birthday parties with the military precision of an invasion.
Invitations, check. Matching napkins and paper plates, check. Wholesome and varied sandwich fillings, check.
I have twins and the night before their last birthday I was up till four turning two Swiss rolls and a packet of Smarties into a replica of Hogworts. Authentic it was not.
I berate myself constantly, promise to change. But I don’t.
Tonight is my publisher’s annual summer party. I have known about this for A WHOLE YEAR. As we speak, authors and agents are getting their hair cut and slavering themselves in Fake Bake. It is with no pride that I admit my ‘good frock’ is in the bottom of the washing basket and my roots are so dark I look as if someone might have taken an axe to my head.
My mate and fellow thriller writer, Lee Weeks, will glide in like an extra from Sex and the City. I on the other hand look not unlike Myra Hindley in her famous mug shot.
There is, however, one aspect of my life which I plan meticulously: my writing.
Before I begin each novel I plan it in a detail that would make Madonna blush.
Having decided upon my structure, I set out each scene on a separate sheet of paper. Each scene will be numbered and written in different coloured ink depending on whose view point it is. It will note which tense the scene must be in ( I use a slippery mixture in my books ), where it is set, what will happen and how it will end. I often include dialogue and snippets of information and description.
Anything I haven’t worked out or need to research is listed in a separate document cross referenced to the relevant scene in the plan.
This part of my writing process is time consuming and I show a pedantry and self control quite out of my normal character. Where I would happily toss a red sock in a white wash, I simply could not countenance the incorrect coloured pen for my main character’s scenes.
I know many writers would find this way of working abhorrent. They begin with a vague idea and see where it takes them. Stephen King notably talks about building a character and letting them find the story. How can the writing, the argument goes, excite and surprise the reader if it doesn’t excite and surprise the writer?
My answer to that is I am hugely excited during the planning stages. I have no idea what will happen and love teasing out the twists and turns. As a crime writer, the laying of clues and red herrings is a huge part of the fun. Misleading the reader is, I find, an exact science.
So, however unlikely, I must accept that this is my style. My method. The system that works for me.
Now, has anyone seen my car keys? I put them on the table next to the unpaid gas bill and the box of Christmas decorations.
Open my handbag and you will find neither diary, nor pen. A stash of wine gums, yes, maybe the odd out of date voucher.
I do not remember to charge my phone or fill the car with petrol.
I have friends who keep colour coded wall charts that tell them where every member of their family should be at any given moment. They organise children’s birthday parties with the military precision of an invasion.
Invitations, check. Matching napkins and paper plates, check. Wholesome and varied sandwich fillings, check.
I have twins and the night before their last birthday I was up till four turning two Swiss rolls and a packet of Smarties into a replica of Hogworts. Authentic it was not.
I berate myself constantly, promise to change. But I don’t.
Tonight is my publisher’s annual summer party. I have known about this for A WHOLE YEAR. As we speak, authors and agents are getting their hair cut and slavering themselves in Fake Bake. It is with no pride that I admit my ‘good frock’ is in the bottom of the washing basket and my roots are so dark I look as if someone might have taken an axe to my head.
My mate and fellow thriller writer, Lee Weeks, will glide in like an extra from Sex and the City. I on the other hand look not unlike Myra Hindley in her famous mug shot.
There is, however, one aspect of my life which I plan meticulously: my writing.
Before I begin each novel I plan it in a detail that would make Madonna blush.
Having decided upon my structure, I set out each scene on a separate sheet of paper. Each scene will be numbered and written in different coloured ink depending on whose view point it is. It will note which tense the scene must be in ( I use a slippery mixture in my books ), where it is set, what will happen and how it will end. I often include dialogue and snippets of information and description.
Anything I haven’t worked out or need to research is listed in a separate document cross referenced to the relevant scene in the plan.
This part of my writing process is time consuming and I show a pedantry and self control quite out of my normal character. Where I would happily toss a red sock in a white wash, I simply could not countenance the incorrect coloured pen for my main character’s scenes.
I know many writers would find this way of working abhorrent. They begin with a vague idea and see where it takes them. Stephen King notably talks about building a character and letting them find the story. How can the writing, the argument goes, excite and surprise the reader if it doesn’t excite and surprise the writer?
My answer to that is I am hugely excited during the planning stages. I have no idea what will happen and love teasing out the twists and turns. As a crime writer, the laying of clues and red herrings is a huge part of the fun. Misleading the reader is, I find, an exact science.
So, however unlikely, I must accept that this is my style. My method. The system that works for me.
Now, has anyone seen my car keys? I put them on the table next to the unpaid gas bill and the box of Christmas decorations.
