of the most exciting information about
it and make a new story. I might even
forget the actual building altogether
and fictionalise the place so I don’t get
hung up on narrating a real history.
Imagine a novel’s structure as a
bare frame or skeleton. It has a first
chapter, a middle chapter and a final
chapter. The first twenty per cent or
so introduces characters and storylines.
The final twenty or thirty per cent
accelerates to the climax. It has one
or more storylines developing in steps
chapter by chapter. Each chapter
should be made up of a scene or
scenes. It’s a case of sorting the research
material into the most promising or
suitable parts of the notional frame.
I should say that the method works
equally well in non-historical novels.
The purpose of research is to gather
materials for story building and fuel for
the imagination. However creative we
are, it’s hard to conjure an entire world
and its characters out of nothing. We
need stimuli and catalysts.
The construction
I’m at this stage now. The first step is
to roughly allocate scenes. I know I
need a really engaging scene in the first
chapter – something that will hook
the reader into the story and establish
both character and tone. I know I need
a dramatic conclusion that the story
will build towards and which will have
the reader turning pages. I know I
need a pivotal central scene in which
something changes the stakes or flips
the story.
Fortunately, I have these scenes from
my research and so I pencil them into
a sketch of the structure. The first
chapter will be a dramatic near-death
experience of our protagonist. The
middle scene will be the grandiloquent
visit of a dignitary. The final scene will
be a fire caused by an electrical storm. I
have three dots on a dot-to-dot line.
Next, I spend some time thinking
about the most promising characters
from the research and I begin to
fictionalise. What is their background?
What is their motivation? What might
happen to them and how might they be
related? The research has already given
me parameters for the kind of lives they
lived and what their duties were.
These character notes help me to
further allocate scenes, and to slot
these scenes into the framework. In
CREATIVE WRITING
http://www.writers-online.co.uk NOVEMBER 2019^15turn, various scenes suggest patterns
for the characters. For example, a
scene in which a young child falls
from the monument allows me to
put my character with her and suffer
greatly from regret when he can’t
save her. An account of a robbery at
the monument allows me to make
my character the victim, or the
investigator, or the witness.
Essentially, it’s a complex but
entertaining game. It’s literary Lego.
I have a number of pieces – different
sizes, different colours – and my job
is to put them together as something
recognisable and functional. Because
the whole story is based in fact and in
research, it will ring true to the reader
and be a bonus (people like to learn
new things.)The fine tuning
Until now it’s been a case of building
blocks. The next stage is weaving finer
strands between blocks. I’ve used as
much of the research material as I can;
now imagination and technique take
over. It might even be a good idea
to start discarding some of the more
arcane or pedantic discoveries (does the
reader really care whether the façade is
made of rusticated Portland stone?)
What’s necessary now is a keener
understanding of what makes any book
tick: how chapters flow into or relate to
each other, how pace ebbs and flows,
how conflict or jeopardy keep the
reader reading. Each scene or chapter
I’ve identified must have a purpose.
Each character must have a trajectory
and a reason. As these things accrue,
they generate more questions.
For example, what purpose or
significance might the visit of the
dignitary have in the middle chapter?
By now, I might be ready to conjecture
story possibilities when previously it
was merely a nice descriptive set-piece
scene. If I use the scene of the little
girl falling to her death, who was
she? Might there be a connection
to one of the other characters?
Slowly, the dots begin to
appear on the dot-to-dot line
that is the narrative. Chapters
are fleshed out with notes and
suggestions. Character threads extend
and connect. It’s all still a game of
combination and interweaving, though
not a word has been written. There’s no
pressure of time. You can see the plotcoming together piece by piece and
there’s no need to be committed to any
of it. If you think of a better idea, just
cross out a line or two (rather than tens
of thousands of wasted words).The writing document
At the end of this process, I’ll have
a simple document in which my
projected chapters are laid out in
order. Each chapter will contain a few
notes about what will happen regards
story and the character, as well as any
research notes I’ll need for description
or context. It is the only document I
will need until the novel is finished.
More chapters may be added.
Chapters may also be cut or joined,
but the basic structure of the book
is roughly laid out before I start.
Such foresight allows me to have
greater control over such things as
tension, pace, conflict, revelation and
character arcs. I know what’s going to
happen next (or in seven chapters) so
I can begin to lay the groundwork for
those events.
If at any stage my characters decide
to go their own way, or if I think of
a better story development, I can just
pencil in a note in the chapters I’ve
yet to write.
This is, admittedly, a process
that takes some practice and focus.
But it has allowed me to write my
last ten novels in a single draft and
with a consistent daily word count.
First you find your seed. Then you
nurture it. Then it’ll start growing of
its own accord.© ward