The Alchemical Dew and Assorted Trials!

For me writing is an Alchemical process which is not too dissimilar to baking a cake. Yes! And I am going to share a slice of mine with you over a coffee. Ready?

The deconstruction of my darlings, spoken of in the last blog I call the 'solve' or dissolving aspect of the work. It can take from a week (rarely) to a few months (commonly)! And even when it is over I am by no means on my way to making the ideal - the delicious concoction that will not only engage, but educate, not only thrill for a moment but hopefully enter into the hearts of its readers for a while making them see the world differently.

At this point, sad to say, I have merely turned the oven on and cleaned the bowl in which I will combine the ingredients.

Before I begin to create I have to ascertain what sort of creation it will be, and this is a process of building - 'coagula' - and deconstruction - 'solve' again. This I liken to the making of the shopping list and it has to do with a monumental number of possibilities because the recipe or various combinations of recipes are made up of any number of ingredients. All my research, the endless prevarication, procrastination and conversations have led me to a number of characters and plots that now appear on the list! They take turns at trying to out do one another in order of importance. I ask myself:

How many characters will I have? Which one is the protagonist? Will I use a God voice, first person or third person voice? Will it be in past or present tense? What is the structure? What location will I use, what country, what nationality? What relationship to true events? What plot will be the best vehicle for what my characters want to say - what I want to say - what the cake maker wants to say!

What tone, substance, quantity, qualification, relation, place, time, attitude, habit, action and passion?

After the peace of deconstruction one is compelled to put one's head inside an anthill again, meanwhile attempting to live day to day with family, friends, dogs and parents as if one is perfectly normal and not a   nutcase with a million recipes and combination of recipes and their assorted ingredients competing for space in their brain. At this point (labour pains come to mind), I want to scream:

WHAT IS THE BIG PICTURE!!!!

This is how I deal with this moment, where one is on the verge of creation or utter ruination - without going completely mad and driving everyone else mad with me. In the day I write down everything that comes to mind on a big pad. I doodle all the time! In the night I review everything again. I take all of the possible ingredients, everything from characterisation to plot into my sleep and I allow it to die away until there into nothing. Another 'solve', another mini deconstruction! Is this difficult? Yes because once again I am creating darlings! Is it possible? Most of the time! There in lies the rub! Ha ha - a maniacal laugh.

However the upside is that in the morning, if all goes well, the myriad of possibilities that I have let go of have been cleverly and conveniently distilled into a drop of very concentrated essence I call the Alchemical Dew - the 'coagula'! If I haven't been rudely and inconsiderately bounced out of bed by anxious dogs, hungry children, husbands late for work, phone calls from my mother to see if I'm awake yet, and alarm clocks that I have forgotten to turn off, I notice it. If I am dragged out of bed with  no time for that peaceful moment to occur, I notice it later as I go about my day -  I realise that a mysterious process has occurred in the night. I have woken up feeling that something has been placed in the crucible of my soul! A little present from the elves!

I see only two or three ingredients at first, only the ones I am meant to combine at this stage, like butter, sugar and eggs. The interesting thing is, that as I bring these together, the process itself begins to dictate what needs to come next - dry ingredients, milk so on - for the proper order of ingredients will create either a sponge cake or a mud cake, a thriller or a love story - it is up to me! I am always free, I can change the recipe at any time. That is the science and the art of it!

I know I'm on the right path when I can follow the recipe, while always trusting that the great cake maker who wrote it - me - knows what kind of cake it should be in the end.

So...where am I? In my bowl I have found my protagonist! Yes indeed.  So it is 1888, the world is on the verge of war. I take a book dealer whose name I don't yet know and I combine him with a cemetery in Paris, a mysteriously locked box,  and I add a conversation with Conan Doyle about the death of a colleague and the disappearance of seven boys connected to his psychic work in London.

Coagula!

I bring the spoon to my mouth...mmmm...this one tastes perfect so far!

More anon...

THE DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL - an Author's Confession!

Every author has his or her own way of coping with the immensely stressful, though potentially rewarding moment they are faced with a blank page or screen.  This moment, alas(!), is even more terrifying if you have previously written a best seller that has been well received and highly recommended, and if added to this horror or horrors you have a tight deadline and a well meaning editor calling you at odd intervals to ask how you are going.

Some of us work well under pressure. Others can become paralysed with fear at the sight of that blank,  endless, horizonless wasteland, one could liken to a blizzard that obscures an otherwise blue sky on the way to Mt Everest. The way up is your career, you have a contract, you have done well, everyone expects you to do it again, you can see the summit, your legs are taut, your head is clear, you are well prepare and then - blizzard! 

If you are a sailor like me, you will liken it to a white squall that comes from out of nowhere and hits you with all your sails out and your sheets flapping - suddenly the boom is headed your way and...you're in the water without a life jacket! 

What comes after the blank page is the dark night of the soul!

Dramatic? Yes! That is what this is all about! Drama!

Why do I call it a dark night? Because for me a new book can only come after a period of deconstruction. I have to kill my darlings! Blot them out! You see, I am so in love with my last book that I want to do it again and again and again, and so I have at least ten beginnings that are like the other book but are not right and it takes a lot of writing and feeling utterly bad about what you are writing to deconstruct! You have to do it until you are quite sick of yourself, until you realise that you can't, or shouldn't, try to build a new house on old foundations. Whether you like it or not you have to bring in the bulldozer and set to work demolishing that beloved construct of your mind to clear the way for something new one to come.

How do I deconstruct?

I spend a lot of time researching.  I tend to eat more than I should. I go for walks without noticing anything at all, talking to myself, asking myself questions - should I connect this with that and that with this and that again with something else? By no means am I a martyr who drowns alone, I have to bring everybody into the water with me. I call my mother annoyingly all through the day to ask her what she thinks, I confuse, mystify and frustrate my poor long suffering husband, I irritate my children, I bemuse my friends, I confound and tax the intelligence of my poor dog! I question my talent, I question my commitment, I question my questions!

Most nights I go to bed fretting, reading, thinking and then I wake up with indefinite ideas that sound terrific, edifying, fantastic and then fizzle out as the day goes by leaving me empty and bereft. I spend too much time on facebook, twitter, my website, rearranging things and making endless videos. I write long blogs about my frustrations (ha ha!) I decide to empty out my kitchen cupboards and rearrange the pots and pans differently, then I put them back where they were before I started. I decide to learn a new programme on my mac or to bleach all the linen in the house. I make sour dough starter and launch into a frenzy of bread making and cake producing that might be the norm in commercial kitchens but is rarely seen in sane households. 

Somehow, this procrastination allows for the deconstruction to take place, so that all the conversations, all the research, all the endless thinking, reading and thinking again can die away into nothing and be born again around an idea. When it comes I feel a strange equanimity, I walk around with a smile on my face, like an overdue pregnant woman who is about to go mad if someone doesn't pull that baby out. I know however, beyond the manic need for action, that if the idea is to become an ideal, if it is to be born healthy, I must not use forceps, or drugs, or epidurals or call for a cesarian section (unless absolutely  necessary). I have to be patient and wait for nature to do its work, naturally.

That is where I am now...I am in my living room, it is raining, the fire is crackling pleasantly in the hearth, the pool is about to overflow and flood the house, the dog is asleep and I'm taken with the wonder of it! I'm watching a group of characters and plots float before my eyes around that idea...which is only a question at this stage:

What if the first world war was meant to start in 1888?

Suddenly it is no longer night and the day has dawned, the sky has cleared. What do I care if outside the sea is pounding and the sky is coming down in a torrent, I have seen the light and can now face that blank page with all the courage I can muster! I have my first labour pains!

More anon...