POCKETING THE EXPERIENCE
How learning how to write a Pocket Novel taught me to be a better writer
Back in 2008 I did
an online Creative Writing course with the Open University. It was called Start Writing Fiction,
and lasted for about three months. As part
of the course the students were set two tutor-marked assignments, one of which
involved writing about an emotion.
The choice of
emotion was left up to us, but were advised by our tutor that it was much
easier to write convincingly about a negative emotion (such as anger) than
about a positive one such as happiness or contentment. Having tried both, I very quickly discovered
that she was right; my attempt at a “positive” piece sounded trite and shallow,
whereas the “negative” emotion produced a powerful passage which was so
toe-curlingly harrowing that I still cringe whenever I read it. But the tutor did give me full marks for it,
so in that respect at least I must have done something right.
But for a very long
time after that, I found I couldn’t write anything which wasn’t dark, or
brooding, or in some cases downright depressing. This wasn’t, I hasten to add, because of any
serious angst in my own life – it was purely and simply because I’d got into
the mindset that the only way I could write anything “serious” was by going
over to the dark side. Even when, a
couple of years later, I made a tentative start on writing a novel (more about
that later) I still found it very difficult to shake off that doom-laden mantle.
Then, in January
2012, I chanced across an advertisement for an online workshop run by Sally
Quilford, on the subject of writing Pocket Novel romances. Romance writing was something I’d never had
the courage to tackle, but this six-week course looked interesting, manageable
and affordable – and I desperately needed to learn how to lighten up my
writing. Despite (to my shame) knowing
next to nothing about Pocket Novels, I signed up.
Before the course
began I bought and read a few of the DC Thomson Pocket Novels. It didn’t take long for me to realise that a
Pocket Novel offers a lovely dose of escapism, and is usually intended to be
read in a single sitting (ideally whilst either lounging on a sunny beach or
curled up in front of a roaring log fire).
I ought to be able to write something like this, I thought. After all, how hard can it be…?
How naïve of me.
I very quickly
learned that writing a Pocket Novel is nowhere near as simple as the experts
make it look. Despite their modest price
and unpretentious appearance, Pocket Novels are no less “proper” novels that
those costing several times as much. So
much so that they are recognised by the Romantic Novelists’ Association. No trivial matter, then.
As I’d found during
the OU “emotion” exercise, easy reading makes for very hard writing. The story needs to be light but not bland,
readable but not simplistic, and with likeable and credible characters and
enough action and conflict to keep the reader’s interest until the last page. Not easy, when the Pocket Novel Rulebook is
(or at least was at the time) a long list of Thou-Shalt-Nots. All plots need conflict, but how on earth can
a writer produce a convincing plot when so many of the usual sources of
conflict (crime, infidelity, divorce, death) are totally off-limits?
And yet, under
Sally’s expert tuition and kind encouragement, I eventually began to learn that
yes, it is possible – if one regards conflict in terms of a problem that needs
to be solved. This can take the form of
(for example) fear, or insecurity, or separation – all of which can be tackled
without recourse to any of the traditionally more traumatic themes. As one of the rules for a Pocket Novel is
that the Happy Ever After ending is non-negotiable, the story is all about the
journey towards it, and how those problems are overcome along the way.
By the end of the
six weeks I had a hero, a heroine, a few secondary characters, a basic
storyline and a selection of scenes.
Plus a whole new set of friends and writing buddies – all of whom are
every bit as valuable to me as everything I learned during the course. It took me another few months to produce the
rest of the book – during which time one of the characters completely floored
me by saying something which went on to change the entire course of the
subplot. Until then I had no idea that
my fictional creations could take on personalities of their own! Clearly I still had a lot to learn.
And that learning
curve included one of the hardest lessons of all: rejection. My pocket novel was turned down by both of
the DC Thomson outlets – probably because it didn’t tick all their very
stringent boxes.
So the Pocket Novel
was relegated to the murky depths of my hard drive whilst I turned my attention
back to the novel I’d started a couple of years earlier. This was a retelling of the traditional Romeo
& Juliet story, but a version in which the star-crossed lovers didn’t
die. At that stage I was writing it
mainly for myself, because it was the ending I wanted, but I was now able to go
back to the manuscript with a fresher and more critical eye, and a better
knowledge of what a publisher might look for.
In short, the Pocket Novel workshop taught me how to take my writing
more seriously and how to develop a more professional approach. As a result I was able to fine-tune the
manuscript and eventually submit it to a publisher. The Ghostly Father,
published by Crooked Cat Publishing, was officially
released (very appropriately, given the subject-matter) on St Valentine’s Day
2014.
So even though my
Pocket Novel didn’t manage to jump through DC Thomson’s hoops, I learned so
much from the experience of writing it – including one very valuable lesson: no
writing is ever wasted, even if it doesn’t always make the final cut.
Sue Barnard
March 2014
Postscript – after Crooked Cat accepted The Ghostly
Father, I was inspired to resurrect my Pocket Novel manuscript and submit it to
them. As I was writing this blog post,
the email arrived telling me they’d accepted it. It’s billed as “a romantic mystery.” Watch this space, folks…
