THE END IS NIGH!

If you’ve reached the point where you’ve needed to consider how to end your piece of writing then congratulations are in order; you’ve nearly finished that labour of love which has taken hours, weeks or sometimes even years to complete. Yet this seemingly rewarding part of the process can actually cause no end of trouble for writers as they struggle to find a ‘fitting’ end which is worthy of themselves, the characters and the readers. Why do we struggle so? Put simply, we’re artists aren’t we, and that last flourish of the brush upon the canvas needs to invoke thought and admiration in equal measure. However, if we revive the ‘author is dead’ argument then we can never be certain what effect, if any, has been left on the reader and we certainly can’t control it once the work has been disseminated. It is actually a small grace given that the misinterpretation of a writer’s intentions would be hugely frustrating and their confidence or pride may be dented as a result.

Traditional novel endings are concerned with resolving problems arising from the plot. This was a common feature of novels in the Victorian period as they would restore order to the chaos within the plot, much to the satisfaction of the readers. If you have spent a long period of time reading about the characters involved in the world of a novel then it may be upsetting to learn that an innocent child is not restored to prosperity.

The physical form of a novel is also a giveaway as to when the story will end as the reader can anticipate this judging by how many pages are left. A short story, despite it also being limited in its physical form, is not hindered in the same way. A short story is capable of picking up and ending a story, without even reaching a conclusion, at any point it so desires. So, today, we will consider a piece of my own writing which I have made available alongside this week’s blog; if you’ve not read it yet then now is the time to do so before proceeding further.

Click HERE to read The Test.

Back already? I hope you’ve enjoyed the story but how do you feel about the main characters? Do you feel the story is resolved and, if so, why? If not, what threatens your belief in that? If the story was to continue beyond its ending, what do you think would happen? Consider once more the final paragraph below:

‘An hour passed. Adrian sat alone in the grey room staring at his laptop, broken, his hand on the mouse. His index finger resting gently on the left button. He looked outside, the sound of rain now falling against the window seemingly compounding his misery. He thought of the lost image of Angeline and how happy he felt standing on that balcony, a whole other world within his grasp. One simple click and he could have everything, one simple click and he could lose it all. Closing the laptop, for now, he got up to grab another coffee. There would be another test this afternoon.’

The first issue to be addressed is of course the moral dilemma; Adrian has resisted the urge to send the email which no doubt restores order for a lot of people who may have been uncomfortable reading the full story and as a result did not wish to see him successful in his pursuit of Rosie. He agonizes over the decision but it could be argued that this action – or lack thereof – was chosen to satisfy readers. This is, however, juxtaposed by the bookending of the ‘grey room’ and miserable scenes seen through the windows as Adrian returns to the same unhappy state we find him in at the beginning of the tale. If empathy for a lost love is viewed only as a lost lust then that may not stir too many feelings of sadness in a reader, but, when you compound his misery by the daughter he had envisaged then it is clear that the whole scenario potentially had much deeper, intimate and genuine feelings associated with it.

There is a ‘whole other world within his grasp’. The whole other world does in fact refer to the dream sequence he has about his life with Rosie and Angeline, and acts as a macrocosm of his whole world which is encapsulated within the microcosm of these two girls. The dream sequence, if you do decide that is what it is, adds yet another layer. The vision Adrian has is perhaps a premonition much like Ebeneezer Scrooge's: an understanding that he has his fate in his own hands. The vision of a couple very much in love, a family even, challenges the closely held belief that Adrian’s actions in making the initial contact with Rosie are immoral. The sequence provides a premature ending to the story prior to the actual ending even though a time-shift has taken place, this provides the reader with an opportunity to choose for themselves how the story is resolved after Adrian closes his laptop. After all, the ‘whole other world’ is ‘within his grasp’, and one click of the mouse resting underneath that hand is all it will take to turn the fantasy into a reality. The hand that closes the laptop is still the hand that can open it once he returns for the afternoon session and send the email. And yet, there is still the test this afternoon. This is once again ambiguous as it could be a test of another group of candidates or a test of his own resolve. Even so, if the reader so chooses, it could be read as Adrian faces a similar ‘test’ every time he meets a new group of exam candidates and that he is the poor quality of character initially thought to be.

Ultimately, it is all for you as the reader to decide. As a writer I know what I intend for the characters but it is much more fun to offer something – an experience – to you. You may find your early impressions from the text shape your desired outcome, or it may be that your personal life experiences contribute somewhat to how you read and resolve the ending. Either way, a ‘whole other world’ of fiction was within my grasp and the only way to produce it as something to be shared was to begin the process of writing. I hope that you’ve enjoyed the short story and found this week’s blog intriguing.

Please feel free to post your own stories below. Happy writing!

A blog by Steve Marshall

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Resources / further reading:

Lodge, D. (2011) The Art of Fiction. London: Vintage. Pp. 3-8.
Marshall, S. (2019) The Test. Unpublished.
Mullan, J. (2006) How Novels Work. This edition published 2008. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pp. 9-39.

THE BEGINNING

‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the word was God,’ or so it seems according to John 1:1 of the King James Bible. If you were to read Genesis it states: ‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.’ Now, I am not a religious person but, nevertheless, this seems slightly contradictory to me. What actually came first, the Word or the creation of heaven and Earth? Does it depend on which text was produced first? I’m no doubt aware that the argument would be that God is the Word so therefore the creative acts by God constitute ‘the beginning’, but this still does not account for the fact that the first word is in fact ‘In’. Although, maybe I’m being pedantic...

Maybe another way of considering the beginning of a text is to think about it in terms of a slightly different question, such as when does your holiday begin? Is it the moment you get to wave your all-inclusive wristband at a bartender to order that first ice-cold San Miguel? Is it the instant you feel the jets roar as you begin take-off? Maybe it is when your suitcases are clamped shut, the daily ritual of the countdown each day in work, the final payment for the holiday? Go even further back and the adventure could begin when you book it, earlier still when you flick through the sun-kissed images of the brochures or even the conversation when you decide you need a holiday. Further still, it may be a holiday you’ve dreamed of for years ever since Dave and Sue (from next door, they’re always bloody going away) returned from theirs and couldn’t wait to show off their tans. The point here is that a journey of any sort – whether it be taking a holiday or indeed writing a book – has a starting point and it is certainly occurring before your pen reaches the paper.

So, what of the beginning of a novel? What is it that a writer must do to ensure that the reader stays the course? Numerous challenges are presented to readers which can be problematic as writers are unable to discern the literary ability of their readership. Readers are already presented with lots of new information regarding names of characters, social circles, family, personality traits (some of which are hidden); they also have the problem with getting used to a writer’s chosen style. As David Lodge argues: ‘However one defines it, the beginning of a novel is a threshold, separating the real world we inhabit from the world the novelist has imagined. It should therefore, as the phrase goes, “draw us in” '(2011, 4-5). Depending on the reader this may only allow for their interest to be maintained across the opening few chapters while some may read the first page before returning it to the book to the shelf.

Some writers are able to summarise a key theme within the first sentence alone. Jane Austen’s opening sentence to Pride and Prejudice (1813) begins: ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife’ (p. 5). The issues of women’s purpose in society at the time coupled with the popular institution of marriage, not least the desire for it, meant that this single sentence captured the tensions of all the events which followed thereafter. Presented as a statement, it also points out, rather ironically, that this is a truth as opposed to a socially constructed convention. Another example, cited in John Mullan’s How Novels Work (2006), reviews the example provided by George Orwell in Nineteen Eight-Four (1949) which is: ‘It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.’ Mullan observes that ‘The statement is made as if it were natural and already we are made to inhabit the logic of dystopia’ (2008, 36). 
Such succinct sentences may not be appropriate for use in every novel, but a few lines or sometimes even the first page can provide guidance to the reader for what lies ahead. Read the opening paragraph to Dickens’ A Christmas Carol (1849, 33):

Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge’ name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

The first three words present a simple statement: ‘Marley was dead’. This is, after all, a ghost story so the reader is given the identity of the first ghost that they will later be introduced to. It is presented as fact, having been witnessed and signed to by a number of people who would have overseen the funeral, Scrooge himself was there to witness his old friend lying in the coffin. He was, as Dickens re-emphasises, ‘dead as a door-nail’. So why would a writer go to such lengths to insist on making this point? As the well-known story goes, this is a tale of the supernatural so Dickens was preparing his audience to set aside their grip of reality and lend their imagination to the story which lay in wait. Dickens, later on the same page, even overtly makes this point: ‘There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.’ He wants the readers to embark on the journey and suspend their beliefs. A secondary theory may be because Victorian society could have been shocked or outraged as they were at other Gothic tales; by reiterating the fact that it was simply a story – of community and goodwill – he not only represents the supernatural as entertainment but he is also able to continue offering a critique on the plight of the unfortunates living in London at such a time of festivity.

The essence of characters can also be captured in these opening lines. One good example is of the laissez-faire attitude of the – sort of – self-titled character in Geoff Dyer’s Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi (2009) as if he couldn’t even be bothered to think of an original name, very clever indeed. The attitude of the character Jeff, who is a writer himself, is humorous and engaging from the beginning, but he is tired of writing about mundane topics and things which he does not find interesting. This defeatist and frustrated monologue is embodied by a single line he types out on an email to his editor and it simply reads: ‘I just can’t do this shit any more. Yrs J.A.’ Yes, he couldn’t even be bothered typing it out fully such was his contempt for the piece of writing which he had been commissioned to do. Furthermore, after mulling over whether to send it, he then deletes the draft and goes for a walk! This attitude towards other people and situations he finds himself in is consistent throughout the novel unless he finds something intriguing or exciting but, as a reader, you cannot help but appreciate that you’re reading about a writer who is writing about writer who doesn’t want to write. Alright?

Now that we’re past that tongue-twister we can have a look at the last example from Nathan Filer’s The Shock of the Fall (2013) which focuses on narrative. I’ll review narratives properly another time but this example is certainly worth a look as it’s one I’ve always remembered, the opening lines read: ‘I should say that I am not a nice person. Sometimes I try to be, but often I’m not. So when it was my turn to cover my eyes and count to a hundred – I cheated’ (2013, 1). Does this first person self-evaluation mean that he is not a nice person? Not necessarily, but you would be led to believe that this is indeed the case. It’s also somewhat comically that the example he drew upon is cheating in hide and seek. What is important though is the reliability of the narrator and these opening sentences are for the reader’s attention so that they can think about these things as they move forward. Without wishing to spoil too much of the story I believe that these statements he makes are in fact true – to him – but his mental state is not one which can determine accurate events from his youth. He believes these things and relays them faithfully but that does not necessarily mean they are true. You’ll have to read the novel to find out more.

As a reader myself I once recall attempting We Need to Talk About Kevin (203) by Lionel Shriver and being blown away by a saturation of elevated language. My initial experience was not one that flowed so I was unable to get caught up in the text until a good four or five chapters in. The vocabulary was challenging so ‘Google define’ was my best friend, the epistolary to an absent reader was as yet unappreciated and I had not been able to warm to the narrator. I’m sure these challenges will come around again in future when I attempt a new author but - and I’m not ashamed to say it - I could have put the book down. I didn’t. It turned out to be one of my favourite of all time and I have recently found it in a classroom being taught to A level students which pleases me. How close was I to missing out on such an experience though?

The journey of every multi-selling novel out there is the same; in the beginning they start with just one reader: you. You are the words and, while you may not necessarily create them, you breathe life into them and create something in the process.

Happy writing.

A blog by Steve Marshall

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Resources / further reading:

Austen, J. (1813) Pride and Prejudice. This edition published 2003. London: Penguin Classics.
Dickens, C. (1843) ‘A Christmas Carol’ in A Christmas Carol and Other Christmas Writings. This edition published 2003. London: Penguin Classics. Pp. 27-118.
Dyer, G. (2009) Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi. This edition published 2015. Edinburgh: Canongate Books.
Filer, N. (2013) The Shock of The Fall. This edition published 2014. London: The Borough Press. 
Lodge, D. (2011) The Art of Fiction. London: Vintage. Pp. 3-8.
Mullan, J. (2006) How Novels Work. This edition published 2008. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pp. 9-39.
Shriver, L. (2003) We Need to Talk About Kevin. This edition published 2011. London: Serpent’s Tail.

WHERE DOES A STORY BEGIN?

So far we’ve identified how to create a productive and supportive writing environment. We’ve also met the challenge of what to write about by utilising our often neglected experiences to help inspire our writing and call forth minute details from our lives which may be of benefit to the story in progress. Our final look at this little trilogy of complaints from students will focus on ‘where’ to start their story.

The word ‘where’ in this question can be interpreted in a number of ways: a physical place, a setting for the story and how to structure a story. In looking at the first problem we can consider the writing environments discussed in the blog two weeks prior. We may also look beyond that to the planning for writing, so exactly where is our starting point? It may be the first time we put pen to paper, the planning for our writing environment, a brainstorm for a character, a story board for the action, bullet points of the spine of the story, an idea you had on  your way to work or maybe it all comes back to a life experience which after years of waiting leaps forth with a refreshing point of view on something unchallenged. This may have echo back to the question of when writing begins, to which I agree, but where do these activities take place? Mobile phones are capable of documenting notes and short lists while any device with access to Word will enable you to start the story, or planning of it, in any manner of places. A note pad is equally effective if you have a half hour break at work but – personally – the best time for me to do most of my thinking is when I’m driving. When I’m sat in traffic for two hours a day I can drift off for a few minutes at a time, high above the cars queueing bumper to bumper on the A470 and far away from the daily monotony of ‘rush-hour’. Once you’ve reached your destination you can document any important notes on your phone to revisit at a time that suits you. With the technology that’s now available writer’s need not be chained to a desk or lock themselves away in a room of one’s own. Thinking about your writing, particularly in the early stages of development, can take place wherever you have freedom of thought.

The second and slightly more pertinent element of this question is where to stage the story. This comes down to one simple equation as to how much research you will need to engage with in order to be successful. If you grew up or lived in the place where you wish to set your story then you can draw from your own experiences (see last week’s blog) to add detail to the setting thus enhancing the reading experience for the reader. You may still wish to take photographs of the area and research some of the history but it will still be benefitting from your touch of warmth – or negativity – which accompanies each description. 

Another important consideration to account for is whether the chosen setting is relevant to the theme of your story. Notable examples from the past include the use of Venice for Othello, the Yorkshire Moors for Wuthering Heights and London for The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. The ‘where’ in this context means that the chosen setting should embody characteristics of the main protagonist or antagonist, or should emphasize key themes or sub-plots of the story. A shadowy tale of people not being true to themselves or others, holding secret meetings in dark alleys alongside some particular virtue being gradually worn away until it is sunken without trace, would certainly play out better in Venice than it would in – for argument’s sake – Marseille.

The final ‘where’ is concerned with how to structure a story and there are a variety of points which can introduce your reader to the action. Biographical or autobiographical novels generally start at the beginning of the main characters life or certainly pick up from their formative years. Other novels really can introduce the reader at any point the author wishes; novels such as Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’ Diary and Nathan Filer’s The Shock of The Fall focus very heavily on the main protagonist and open by subtly introducing the reader to some of the character’s main flaws through an introduction from the character themselves, often at a low point of embarrassment or tragedy. Lionel Shriver’s We Need To Talk About Kevin starts its journey after the tragic events which hang ominously over any nature versus nurture debate carried out throughout the reading of this wonderful novel. Likewise, Margaret Attwood’s Alias Grace and Alice Walker’s The Color Purple both begin their narrative after the main event (e.g. murder / rape) have taken place. Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights is a framing narrative which starts in the present day, Nelly Dean then relays the tale of the house and family’s history before returning once again to the present day. At this point I could reel off numerous examples of different author’s carefully chosen entry points to novels but it really does depend on what your story is and how you wish to tell it, basing your chosen structure on how best to relay the tale and which option would create the biggest effect on the reader. For example, a thriller may begin at a moment of high tension, just before the explosive ending, but may go back in time and relay the tale in a chronological order until it reaches, and then resolves, the mystery / tension from which it began. You’re the author so it is always your choice but you must at some point think of the effect on the reader.

At this point it is also useful to tie in any proposed storyline with a review of your character. As we have already discussed in an earlier blog, you can build your character from scratch and think about literally dozens of traits, such as their likes and dislikes, which will dictate their choices and provide a framework from which you can check for consistency as you move along. However, if you have decided upon your story and where it will begin you can work it in reverse order to shape your character. For example, if you had decided upon a failed bank robbery as the defining moment of your story then there are a number of questions you could think about in relation to your character: what has driven them to commit the crime, who they know who could assist them, the circles they move in, their experiences with weapons, what planted the seed of thought to do it, where else in their past they’ve displayed a failure to plan properly, and so on. You could continue asking yourself question after question and keep working it backwards until you find or create role models, shaping events and social circles which eventually lead your character to this moment. By building these layers you are – one would hope – left with a highly detailed background story filled with anecdotes or historical events which will also contribute to your novel or short story in their own way.

This blog, along with the two entries prior to it, were all pretty much the result of a number of conversations with students. As I write these blogs each week I always try to be flexible and embrace a wide range of questions or challenges that all new writers may face. I am now looking forward to returning to a little more technical analysis and will spend the next few weeks looking at a variety of approaches to the novel. Writing is a particularly individual endeavour so continue writing, continue challenging yourself and continue to have faith in your own ability. 

As always, please do feel free to leave any comments you have below. Happy writing!

A blog by Steve Marshall

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THINKING ABOUT FOOD

‘Look at our apples

Russet and dun,

Bob at our cherries,

Bite at our peaches,

Citrons and dates,

Grapes for the asking,

Pears red with basking

Out in the sun,

Plums on their twigs;

Pluck them and suck them, Pomegranates, figs.’

(Excerpt from Goblin Market, L 352-61)

Are you salivating yet? An abundance of fruit just inviting you to have a taste. Last week I gave you food for thought as we considered how, in writing, the act of eating can reflect status or social interactions. I now want us to think about food some more, focusing in particular on some of the figurative associations of eating.

Close read the extract above. What are you first thoughts? To suck, to lick; even saying these word aloud can engage your tongue and ignite your mind. What about the shapes of the fruits themselves, each bearing a resemblance to parts of the body? The goblins who are attempting to entice Laura to taste their goods are like the sirens who lure sailors to their doom.

Paying heed to Rossetti’s religious background, we can also read the poem as a fable of sorts. If we see the fruit which the goblins are trying so hard to sell as ‘forbidden fruit’, the goblins themselves as a snake and Laura as Eve, we are transported into the Garden of Eden. Laura ‘sucked and sucked and sucked the more / Fruits which that unknown orchard bore’ (L 134-5); could this passage in itself be referring to the tree of knowledge? Inferences could be made about the poem serving as a warning to women not to engage in sexual acts with men: sexual knowledge will bring their downfall.

There are many other explorations of the figurative significance of eating in literature. To take Bram Stoker’s Dracula as an example: there are many readings which centre around the act of the vampire feeding off of others. These readings highlight patriarchy, phallogocentrism, the contemporary practice of using blood transfusions to reduce madness caused by bad blood, taboo subjects such as menstruation and, yet again, sex. Yes, the act of phallic shaped incisors piercing a woman can be interpreted as an act of penetration. Likewise, early in the novel, Jonathan Harker watches in a trance-like state as no less than three of the Count’s mistresses attempt to feed on him. There are many sexual references to ‘red lips’ and ‘voluptuousness’, and a description of one of the women ‘on her knees… [arching] her neck… lower and lower went her head… then the skin of my throat began to tingle’ (1897, 45). The whole feeding frenzy reads as a scene not unlike that found in a romance novel, and yet it is describing a female vampire feeding on a human male.

Through the sexualisation of female vampires and their degeneration to an almost animalistic state, it could be argued that links with sex and religion can again be found. Lucy’s state is altered from each transaction – as it were – making her less and less wholesome. Indeed, her transformation from a respectable woman into a heinous devil-incarnate could be viewed as a warning to women: if left to ‘survive’, she would eventually act like the aforementioned female vampires we have just discussed. After a stakeout at the tomb, Lucy is now described somewhat differently: ‘The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness’. (1897, 225).

At the time of writing it is rapidly approaching Valentine’s Day, when food becomes the language of love. Nigella Lawson has made a career out of sexualising food, so let’s give it a go ourselves. Treating the food allegorically, try describing the act of eating. Use verbs in the present tense to engage the reader’s senses. Employ alliteration to emphasise the ‘mouthfeel’ of your words, rolling them round on your tongue before giving life to them. The aim, of course, is for your reader to salivate at the thought of the images you’ve conjured, whetting their appetite to read on.

Any more for any more? Happy writing.


A blog by Steve Marshall

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Further reading:

Lodge, D. (1992) The Art of Fiction. London: Penguin Books.

Mullan, J. (2006) How Novels Work. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Rossetti, C. (1995) ‘Goblin Market’ in Selected Poems of Christina Rossetti. London: Wordsworth Editions Ltd.

Stoker, B. (2003) Dracula. First published 1897. London: Penguin Classics.