I’m not talking about romantic passion now.  I’m talking about the passion an author has to have for his novel.  It really is essential!

About a year and a half, I started writing a novel which struck me as a good idea.  When I got about 30% of the way through it, a friend who had been reading it said, “it’s boring!”  The wind went completely out of my sails and I set aside the work I had completed.  I wrote another novel in the meantime, and when I finished that one, I decided to have another look at the ‘boring’ one.  My friend was right; it was boring.  But, I felt that the ideas behind the book were good.  I had just executed them poorly: without passion.  So, I set to work again: reorganising, clarifying, deleting and adding material.  I think it will turn out well if I maintain my current level of passion.  Passion for what? you might ask.  I think that in a good novel, the author has passion for three elements: a character or characters, the story, and the message.  Passion for a character means that the author really knows him or her, and really wants him or her to come alive for the rest of the world to see.  Passion for the story means that the author loves the idea of his story, and wants to tell it in such a way that the reader will be captivated by it.  Passion for the message means that the author feels strongly about the meaning he’s trying to convey to the reader.

I think it’s fair to say that not all novels have all three elements.  Many novels lack a messages or an ultimate meaning, but all novels have character(s) and a story.

Let me give you some examples:

Here is Bettina, the  character most readers love to hate, being interviewed by me at the end of Sin & Contrition.  She’s self-centered and very narrow-minded:

William:  Tell me about Franciska and Fredek.  (her children)

Bettina:  Well, Franciska is a successful modern artist, as you know.  I don’t understand her paintings, but some people apparently do, and are willing to pay good money for them.  She’s moved to a larger, more comfortable apartment in the Village, but she still has her art studio.

William:  Is she still living with Florence Donovan?

Bettina: (sharply)  What do you mean?

William:  Well, Franciska’s gay, isn’t she? . . . There’s nothing wrong with it, of course.

Bettina:  What do you mean there’s nothing wrong with it?  There’s plenty wrong with it, and the Bible forbids it!  (This from a woman who renounced her Catholicism to join a ‘more fashionable church’)

William:  As I understand it, being gay isn’t a choice that people make.  It’s just their . . . nature.

Bettina:  That’s ridiculous!  Of course people make a choice about their sexuality!  And no daughter of mine would ever choose to have sex with another woman!  It would be disgusting!

William:  OK, Bettina.  So Franciska’s doing well?

Bettina:  Yes!

William:  And how about Fredek?

Bettina:  Haven’t you heard?  He’s a smash hit!  He’s now playing Billy Flynn in Chicago.

William:  That’s wonderful!  And does he have a girl friend?

Bettina:  Of course!  He’s been going with Mary Anne for several years now.

William:  When you say ‘going with’, you mean they’re living together?

Bettina: (hesitantly and softly)  I suppose so.

William:  As far as I know, the Bible doesn’t approve of sex outside of marriage.

Bettina: (leaning forward and glaring at me)  Are you implying that I apply a double standard to my children?

William:  I didn’t say so.

Bettina:  Yes, but that’s what you meant!  (sitting back and considering me)  Well, not all sins are equal.  Fredek will get married some day soon, and, in my opinion, sex between a man and a woman is OK.  It’s sex between two men or two women that’s the problem.

Here’s an example of story-telling from Fishing in Foreign Seas.  (John, Jamie’s brother, is celebrating his election to the US House of Representatives.  He is on crutches because his leg, which had bone cancer, has been amputated.  John’s girlfriend, Michele, a nurse, had left him because he would remind her too painfully of a one-legged uncle who had abused her.  Caterina, Jamie’s wife, had tried to convince Michele that John was not her uncle.)

Jamie saw her first, and he nudged Caterina.  From across the room, a solitary figure in a blue and white striped uniform and wearing white pointed cap was slowly approaching John.  Her demeanor was reserved yet determined.  It was Michele.  She stood slightly behind him and to his left, waiting patiently for him to notice her.  The two men to whom John was talking kept glancing at her until John turned to see who they were looking at. 

“Oh, Michele . . . “ he said.  The two men moved away.

“Congratulations, John,” she said, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands.  “You did very well!”

He said eagerly: “It’s great to see you, Michele.”

At that, she dissolved and the tears started.  “Oh, John, I’ve been so stupid. . . . So very stupid.  . . . . Will you forgive me?”  She stood looking at him, her cap slightly awry, dark streaks of mascara on her cheeks, her hands at her sides and an expression of pure sorrow on her face.  John leaned forward on his crutches and embraced her.

“I’m so sorry, John, I’m so sorry!” she said softly.

“I love you, Michele!”

She began to weep in earnest: “I don’t know why. . . . I don’t deserve it.”

He led her to the far side of the room where they sat talking.  Elena, overcome with curiosity, wandered nearby, pretending not to listen.

“Elena!” Caterina called.  Reluctantly, she obeyed her mother and came to the table.

“What are they talking about, Mommy?”

“That’s none of our business, Sweetheart.”

After a time, Michele came to the table and put her hand on Caterina’s shoulder.  Caterina stood and looked at her with a gentle smile: “Your face is a mess, Michele.  Let me . . .”
Michele interrupted, embracing her: “I don’t care . . . “  She looked earnestly at Caterina: “We’re getting married. . . and . . I want to thank you . . . for making me think.”

And here is the principal message from Sin & Contrition:  (Ellen and Gene are two principal characters; they’re adult children are Elisa, studying for the ministry, and Joey, an engineer.)

“But, Mom,” Elisa wanted to follow up on her mother’s last statement, “Why not?  If you’ve been going to church so long, why aren’t you a ‘true believer’?”

Ellen considered this, her head on one side.  “I don’t know.  I guess something has never really clicked for me.  I think to myself: this is such a good story! but then I think: but what if this was all made up by some religious people centuries ago?”

Joey said: “I think what it is, Mom, is that you and I tend to be sceptical about things, and we like hard facts.  That’s why I like engineering and you like designing clothes.  Whereas, Elisa, and Dad are not as rigorous with facts: Elisa likes religion, and Dad tells stories on TV!”

“Joey!” Ellen was shocked, “Your father does not ‘tell stories on TV’!  He gives people factual news!”

Joey cringed in mock apology.  “Just kidding, Mom!”

Gene said, “Well, I think Joey has a point.  I think it’s probably true that some people are more disposed to suspend disbelief and take things on faith.”

“It’s not just a matter of taking things on faith, Dad,” Elisa said, “Two religious scholars, Kreeft and Tacelli, recently compiled a list of twenty arguments for the existence of God.

Joey said: “Give me an example.”

“Well, many of them involve complicated concepts in logic,” Elisa replied, “There is the Argument from Efficient Causality, which basically says that everything is the result of some cause, and if we trace far enough back the chain of cause and effect we will come to an Uncaused Being which has to be God.  And there is the Argument from Degrees of Perfection, which says that something is always better than something else in some sense.  Again, if we trace the stages of ‘betterness’, we will come to the Perfection of All Perfections, which is God.”

“Sorry, Elisa,” Ellen interjected, “I can’t get my head around that stuff!  If God is real, why can’t He just tell us, ‘here I am guys!’?”

“Mom,” Elisa replied, “Do you believe in free will?  That is do you believe that we, as human beings are able to choose the path we want to take?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“OK.  Well, if God were to say ‘here I am guys!’ free will would be gone!”

“Why?”

“Because, if we knew, for sure that God is there watching us, and if we knew – as we would – what he was expecting of us, and if we knew pretty well – as we would – what would happen to us if we didn’t meet His expectations, do you think any sane person would not choose the right path?  There wouldn’t be any options.”

Ellen leaned forward.  “So, are you saying that God gave us free will, and we’re here as a kind of a test?”

“I don’t know.  But it is a possibility.”

For more about my novels, see www.williampeace.net.

I am often asked, “How much time do you spend writing in a day?” and “What is your writing schedule?”

The answers are 4 – 5 hours per day; I write in the late morning and throughout the afternoon.

I have read about writers who lock themselves away for the entire day.  I couldn’t possibly do that, because when I try to write for more than about two hours at a stretch, I become mentally fatigued, and the quality of my writing declines.  My imagination and my critical skills must both be keen.  Imagination is essential to achieving an interesting, creative output.  And critical skills must also be operational to avoid putting something down which is ‘good enough’.  I find that when I am mentally tired, my imagination is less fertile and instead of being critical of my output, I get lazy.  So, every hour of two, I take a break.  I go out to do the food shopping, or I work on by blog, or check my email, or pay the bills or I play spider solitaire: anything which doesn’t use my brain in the same way as writing.

My wife and I have coffee at 7 am, and for about an hour I work on the sudokus in yesterday’s paper while she reads the paper itself.  Four mornings a week, I walk to the gym for an hour, and on the way back, I pick up the newspaper.  What follows is breakfast and a shower.  Then, I can sit down at my PC, and check my email.

If I’m starting a new chapter, or a new section of a chapter, I’ll look at the outline I’ve written for that chapter to see what comes next.  Often, I experience a ‘writer’s block’ where I find it hard to get started.  I’ve learned that it’s best to not ‘just plunge in’.  Instead, I’ll think about the character or characters, and put myself in their shoes.  ‘What would he or she do next?’ I’ll wonder, and I’ll look for a response which is interesting, in character, and moves the story forward.  Once the starting point has been achieved, the story will tend to flow until the next juncture is reached.  Actually, I find that ‘writer’s block’ is a good thing: it helps prevent me from producing low quality output.  After I write about a page (single spaced), I’ll stop and read through what I’ve written.  At this point, I bring my critical skills into play, and I’m alert to any word or phrase which doesn’t feel quite right.  I may have to consult my thesaurus to find a better word.  Once I’ve reviewed the text, I’ll run the spell checker.  My spell checker is set for UK English.  (Even though I’m American by birth, I tend to feel that UK English is more authentic.)  Sometimes my editor doesn’t agree, which is OK, except when the novel is set in the UK and may, therefore, have primarily a UK readership.

Usually, I’ll take a lunch break from 1 til 2, during which time I’ll read the paper.  Then, I’ll be back at work – with the occasional break – until 6, which is generally my quiting time.

During the average day, I’ll produce four pages of text, which I’ll re-read again before signing off for the day.  And at the end of a chapter, the whole chapter gets re-read, and when I complete a novel, I’ll re-read it in its entirety.  (I should mention that during the editing process with my publisher, I’ll end up re-reading everything again at least once.  Every time I re-read, I’ll find something that I find needs changing/improving.)

The other activity that can take up to half my ‘writing time’  is doing research.  My fourth novel (which I’ve just finished) is set in Washing ton DC (where I have lived), Afghanistan and Iran.  I’ve never been to those two countries, and to make up for that deficiency, I’ve had to do a lot of research – mostly on line, but I find that Lonely Planet guides are a big help, too.

Then, sometimes I’ll think of a (usually slight) change of direction, which requires that I revisit one of more previous chapters to make alterations.

As a child, I was brought up to suppress my emotions.  My father was remote, and had great difficulty expressing his emotions.  My mother, while gregarious and charismatic, believed that emotion was an expression of human weakness.

I remember that when my father died (at age 62) of Alzheimer’s disease quite a while ago, my mother called to tell me of his death (which had been expected).  She started to cry on the phone, and I remember saying something to her like, “Mom, you’ve been brave for so long, don’t break down now.”  I remember it so well, because now, I think what a terrible thing to say!  I should have expressed empathy and sympathy!  But that gives you an idea of how strong the ‘stiff upper lip’ mentality was in my family.

I remember also that when I separated from my first wife, I was cleaning my small apartment on a Saturday morning.  The phone rang.  It was my mother.  She wanted to know how I was, and at the end of the conversation, she said, “I love you.”  I couldn’t believe it!  I couldn’t recall her ever saying that to me before. (I was 46 at the time.)  I didn’t doubt that, in her heart of hearts, she loved me, but she did not express her feelings.

When I separated from my first wife, the minister at our church recommended that we both go to counselling.  I did.  I went to a psychotherapist for about two years, and during that time, I only learned one thing: get in touch with your emotions, don’t suppress them – emotions are an essential part of what makes us human.

Now, when my wife an I go to the movies, I often find that I’m shedding tears in response to something that’s happened.  Not just sad events, but also very happy events.  I’ll start wiping my eyes if I get caught up in the emotions of the actors.  My wife thinks it’s kind of amusing.  She seldom sheds a tear in the movies.

One interesting thing is that all five of the important women in my life are (or were) Capricorns: my mother, my sister, my ex-wife, my wife and a girl friend.  Why would that be?  Well, some is chance and some is by choice.  I’ve had a look at the characteristics of Capricorns.  One astrology website says: “These independent, rock like characters have many sterling qualities.  They are normally confident, strong-willed and calm.  These hardworking, unemotional, shrewd, practical, responsible, persevering . . . persons . . .”  I think that’s a fairly good description of all my women.  So, did I, as an unemotional child with two Capricorns living with me, choose three others?  Maybe so.

As a writer, one has to feel and express emotion.  I would have been a very poor writer of fiction before I went through psychotherapy.  Now, I find myself shedding tears when I’m re-reading a particularly well-written description of an emotional event.  For example, here’s a passage from Fishing in Foreign Seas.  Caterina and Jamie are visiting Erice, an ancient, mountain-top town in western Sicily:

“I show you something I do not like,” Caterina said, and she led the way down narrow path which seemed to skirt the edge of the mountain.  She paused near an iron railing, but clearly was going no closer to it.

Indicating the railing she said: “there is a very big drop there.”

Jamie walked over to the railing and peered over the edge.

“Not go so close, Jamie!” she said in alarm.

He looked into a narrow gorge which was covered on the near side with vines and seemed to stretch down into infinity.

“Yes, I see what you mean.  I can’t even make out what’s at the bottom.”

“Jamie, come away!” she pleaded.

She took a step backward and held out her hands to him.  He crossed over to her.

“The railing is quite strong.  You wouldn’t fall over,” he assured her.

She looked at him, her lips compressed: “I am afraid of heights.  When I get near a place like this, I am afraid I throw myself over.”

“But you’re not going to do that!”

“I know, but I still get the feeling. . . .  As if some demon inside of me will take control . . . and throw me over.”
“But you don’t have any demons inside,” he protested.

“I know of one,” she confessed.  Her eyes were misty: “. . . it is called ‘self-doubt’.”

He stared at her in utter amazement, then he felt her vulnerability, and he drew her close to him.  “Let’s get a bite to eat,” he suggested.

They sat at a table in an almost-deserted patisserie.  She would look at him for a moment and then she would look around her.  The corners of her mouth were turned down and her head was inclined to one side.

“Caterina . . .”  She looked at him, her face full of disappointment in herself.

He took her hands: “I love you!”

She took a deep breath, not believing what she heard.  Then the dam burst inside her.

“Oh, Jamie, I love you so much!  I never believed I could love anyone like this!”  Her face was streaming with tears.

“You beautiful, wild, wonderful girl!”  He got up and hugged her.  “. . . Do you suppose they have any champagne here?”

She wiped her eyes with a napkin.  “I doubt it, but they probably have some prosecco – which might be good.”

Now, when I write, I consciously step into the character I’m writing about – much as I suppose an actor does.  And, knowing the character, I let myself feel the way that character would feel in that situation.  And when I feel those feelings, I try to express them in writing – by what the character says, or thinks, or by his/her body language.

(For more information about my novels, see www.williampeace.net.)

I tend to believe that if one is going to do something important, one must have a plan.  For those of you who are familiar with the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (there is a page on Wikipedia), my profile ends in a J (judging).  This means that I tend to place a lot of emphasis on rational thought.  My wife has a profile ending in P (perceiving), and she tends to be quite intuitive.  I think it’s fair to say that most of us have some of both, and certainly both are useful to a writer.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Fishing in Foreign Seas was based on a series of dreams I had.  Then, I added the story about the huge negotiation, which is, by the way, in many ways based on my actual experiences.  There was not a great deal of planning involved in creating this novel, which switches back and forth between the romance and the negotiation.  The chapters are divided by time period, with each period covering a stage in the development of the romance or the negotiation.  So, for example, I didn’t really plan the chapter about Jamie and Caterina’s years in Philadelphia, I just knew what I wanted to say.

For Sin & Contrition, I had to plan the six main characters: their personalities, their values, their strengths and weaknesses.  And I had to prepare a list of the sins they commit.  After that, the planning was ‘on the fly’.  When I wrote the chapter on bullying, I sat down and thought ‘who’s going to bully whom, why and how’.  The ideas flowed, and I put them on paper.  Not really a lot of formal planning.

My third and fourth novels are thrillers, and as such they had to be much more thoroughly planned.  (The third, Efraim’s Eye, will be out later this year, and the fourth is about two thirds complete.)  After all, one has to set the stage, build up the suspense and present the climax followed by the resolution.  Efraim’s Eye  is based, in part, on my experience with a charity in Mexico – although the novel is set in Morocco.  Because of my experience, I knew what I wanted to say about the charity.  But in presenting the terrorist side of the story, I had to lay out, step-by-step, how it would evolve.  I also had to do a lot of research, which in many cases, led to alterations to the plot.

(Efraim’s Eye was published 24 September 2012.)

My fourth novel – about the drugs trade in Afghanistan and Iran – is not based on my experience.  And here I had to start with a brief idea of what would happen.  I  then described each of the  principle characters and their roles.  This was followed by hours and hours of research.  I could then lay out the plot, chapter by chapter, in some detail.  But the process I’m using is organic.  Before starting a new chapter, I’ll look at the outline for that chapter.  Usually, it needs to be revised and more clarity added.  This, in turn, may result in the need to change something I’ve written two or three chapters previously.  And, it may result in changes to the outline of the later chapters.  But once I start writing a chapter, the formal planning ends until the next chapter begins.  Also, as the novel evolves, my perceptions of each character evolves and becomes clearer.

So, for me, planning has become a more essential function in the creative process.  But planning has to be iterative and flexible.  There has to be plenty of space for intuition.

I’m planning to  share with my readers some of the joys and sorrows of a writer of fiction.  Sometimes writing can feel like a eagle gliding on gentle updrafts in a clear blue sky, and sometimes it seems like climbing a slippery ice mountain in your bare feet!

(For more information about my novels, see www.williampeace.net.)

Dreams, in my experience, can be either helpful or misleading to an author.  My first novel, Fishing in Foreign Seas, was inspired by a series of dreams I had while I was on holiday in Sicily.  The dreams were about a beautiful, young Sicilian woman, and I was a young man who had been captivated by her.  Each dream was fragmented, so that it did not really make sense, and during the following day at the beach, I found myself day dreaming in order to fit the previous night’s dream into a continuous story.  This continued for three nights, after which, I felt motivated to write the story down.  By the time I had written 70 pages, I thought, ‘there could be a lot more to this; in fact, there could be a novel’.  So Fishing in Foreign Seas comes from a combination of dreams, day dreams and memory.

More recently, I had a dream about a particular setting in a novel I’m writing.  Before I went to sleep, I was thinking about how my principal character would feel in that particular setting.  It was a setting to which I have never been, although it is frequently on the evening news and I have seen dozens of pictures of the place.  I was wakeful, because I wanted to be as authentic as possible in presenting the setting to my readers.  I lapsed into a dream which I understood to be about the character in the setting.  The principal event in that dream was of me going down a steep incline in some kind of vehicle over which I  had no control, and crossing a series of busy railroad tracks.  Since I had no control, I was afraid that the vehicle would cross the path of a steam train.  (There were several steam locomotives puffing along at right angles on either side.)  But, we made it across tha tracks and started down another steep incline, at which point I woke up.  I’m convinced that the dream was prompted by my desire to find myself in the unfamiliar setting of the novel.  This time, however, the dream was no help at all.  The setting in my novel is a flat plain: there are no hills – not even little ones – and there is no rail service in the country!

I have actually found that between 5 and 6 am, when I’m not fully awake, but dozing, can be helpful in the creative process.  I’ll be thinking, for example, about what a character would do in a particular situation, and I’ll begin to shape his response, but I’ll fall asleep for a few minutes.  During that snooze, I’ll feel a different response.  Awake again, I’ll think about it, refine the response and doze again.  The problem is: it is not a dependable process.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.  Sometimes the results are useful; sometimes they’re rubbish.