There’s a misconception I’ve discovered among some non-writers as to how a book gets written. The idea seems to be that we sit down one morning after our Marmite soldiers and tea, flex our fingers… and the story unrolls before us. All we have to do (they assume) is bang out the words on their keyboard until it’s done, send it off to the agent or publisher, and retire to a quiet spot with a glass of something refreshing to wait for the next idea to pop up. To be fair to those who see the process this way, why on earth should they think any differently? After all, it’s a question of perception, and about as clear as alchemy. And being a writer doesn’t compare to say, carrying furniture up and down stairs or ditch digging, both of which entail a fair bit of grunting and muttering (although getting too close to a submission deadline has been known to produce a lot of both, in my experience).
I think most writers, given the chance, would love to see the entire story laid out and ready to type, from Chapter 1 right to THE END. Unfortunately it rarely happens. Instead, what we get is snatches of ideas flashing by, mostly unrelated and hard to catch, like confetti in a stiff breeze. It can be very confusing – and frustrating. However, there is a way of helping this process along, and making sense of all that confetti. It means working in stages so that, in effect, you can roll out the story… eventually. So how do we go about it? Well, picture a scene. Any scene that has occurred to you. At most times in the writing process, whether in the staring-into-the-distance stage or at any point throughout, you will experience image flashes. These might be vague but interesting ideas, whether action, dialogue or backgroundbuilding narrative, which jump out to taunt you, seemingly unbidden.