When reality pokes its head above the parapet

Wasn’t it George Orwell who said in that brilliant but depressing book “Coming Up For Air” something like ‘you remember it all so perfectly and you remember it all wrong’?

Well that’s me at the moment. Having a complete scene in my head of Luke and Grace creeping from Henry IX’s apartments round the corner to Queen Madeleine’s rooms to examine the scene of the first murder, I realise after a few hundred words that I’ve got the geography the wrong way round. It doesn’t help, of course, that the Tudor royal apartments are no longer there – curse you, William III. In a way, though, it shouldn’t matter that much. But in my head, it does.

I’m going through one of those horrible phases when I am desperate to get on with the book and my head is teeming with characters, only to go blank, fingers poised over keyboard when I get there. I’ve always maintained that the only way to get through something like this is to keep the fingers tapping on the keyboard until you find the rhythm again. Having mapped out the general plot, I now need to just let my imagination and the characters take me where they want to go, but my brain is so stuffed full of unimportant stuff like what I’m cooking for dinner tonight and why my golden retriever has suddenly become very disobedient, that my usually disciplined writer’s head has been replaced by Mrs Thinkaboutanythingbutthebook Head. It doesn’t help when I meet the almost embarrassed old chap on the dog walk who can never think of anything to say but ‘written any more books lately?’

I have discovered one fabulous thing, though. Whoever wrote the words ‘if music be the food of love, play on’ was dead right. I can write moving dialogues of heart-rending prose to Craig Armstrong’s film music, especially the balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet. So, whenever I need my character to emote, it’s just a matter of flicking a switch and letting the music send my pen scribbling. Eric Whitacre’s music is brilliant for this, too, except that I sometimes find myself actively listening as well, which, whilst brilliant for the soul, is death to word counts.

So, I’ve figured that what I need to do is find the right music and Luke will stir from his enforced halt on the walk to the Queen’s apartments and begin moving his investigation forward.