The Fiction Thing

October time last year, late in the evening. I'm writing, like always. But something weird happened. I started telling a story.

Nah, I said. You don't write fiction. Leave it. So, I carried on writing a new blog post. Simple style, straight forward. But then, that story? Kept nagging at me.

Back I went. took another look. Wrote a bit more. Seemed alright. I did research about writing a novel. Almost gave up straight away. Loads of information. Most of it saying one thing. Then something else. Confusing as hell. I talked to my wife, Mary, about it.

—I'm thinking of writing a novel, love.

—Do you it. You've said a few times, you wanted to.

—The advice on the web is all over the place—

—You know how to write a story. Get on with it. But before you get too stuck in, fancy making a brew?

So, yeah. I made the brew. Then got back to the writing. With no plan. No plot. No idea where the story should go. But another weird thing happened.

It didn't seem to matter.

I found out a while later that I'm what they call a "pantser". I write by the seat of my pants. Write. Let the story come out. In fact, let the characters tell me the story.

Being honest? I can't do it any other way. I did try. Anyway, I kept writing. And twenty days later? The novel sat there. Done. ready for KDP.

I dunno how come I wrote it so fast. Seemed crazy. I ended up with RSI. But, I reckon when the story is there, I have to write it — in case it buggers off.

—I'm finished, love.

—Order me a copy.

I did. and when it arrived, I handed it over. Mary read it.

—Is it, er, any good?

—What?

—My book. Is it any—

—Course it is. Why wouldn't it be?

—Well, I wasn't sure—

—It's great. Write another one, I'll read it.

Now, look, Mary is my wife. So, biased. Or could be. But still, I counted that as a result. I had one person who liked my work. Didn't know if I'd get any more.

Anyway, look, I'm not a writing guru. But if I had any advice about writing a book at all? It would be this.

Crack on and write it. If you don't, nobody else will. Not your book. You have to write that.