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How and why I write...
It would be a bit simplistic to say that I always wanted to be a writer.
But I was, from my earliest memories, always trying to write.
In the summer of 1984, something happened that made it seem inevitable.
At the time, I was working at The Carlisle (a seafront pub in Hastings, favoured by bikers) and a couple of off-licenses as well.
For once, I had more money than I needed and, during the warm spring of 1984, I was working hard and doing a lot of reading.
As I often do, I had two books on the go: Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and Daphne Du Maurier’s Frenchman’s Creek.
I also had a new motorbike – the first and only motorbike that I have ever owned from new. OK – it was only a Kawasaki KC100 (a single cylinder two stroke; not even sporty at that) but I hadn’t passed my test, it was on special offer and, at the time, it served me fine.
I made a sudden decision – I asked my 3 bosses (the one at the pub and the two at the off licences) for a week off to ride down to Cornwall.
Two said “yes” and the third lost a hard working employee.
After work, that Saturday night, I pointed the bike west and headed for Cornwall. We didn’t have GPS in those days; I had a list of towns and cities to aim for, in the right order, taped to the petrol tank. I finally got there after about 12 hours (with plenty of stops) and spent the next week exploring and reading.
It was during that week, at a second hand book stall in Truro indoor market, that I discovered Stephen King. One of the things I liked about his early collections of short stories were the little notes to the reader – explaining how and why he had written each tale.
Returning, after my holiday, I started devouring books of all sorts. I must have made some sort of decision because soon after I got back I spent a whole week’s wages on an electric typewriter.
The following year (having passed my test and treated myself to a 250 Super Dream), I went to the Kent Custom Show. I don’t remember too much about the show (too much beer to blame for that), but I did buy a copy of Fogg on the Road by Jim Fogg.
I was aware of Jim’s writing, having read it in Bike Magazine, Superbike and, more recently, in the newly published Back Street Heroes.
What I liked was that Jim could tell a tale in such a way that it was almost like you were sat across a pub table from him; with him puffing away on a pipe and occasionally taking a swig from his pint.
I wanted to be able to write like that. What I didn’t realise was that it takes a whole pile of skill to write in such a simple way. Skill that, at that time, I didn’t have.
Over the next fifteen years or so I tried writing down the stories I wanted to tell. I wrote in different styles – it seemed that every time I read a book I absorbed the writer of that book’s own style (or, should that read, copied it?) If I am reading Hemingway, I write like Hemingway, although not as well. The same goes for Scott Fitzgerald or Stephen King and so forth.
Of course, there were many periods when I wasn’t doing much writing, life has a habit of getting in the way, but gradually I was learning – even if I didn’t know it at the time.
Eventually it took a move to another country to get my writing going in the right direction.
I moved to France; Brittany specifically.
It was easier writing without the distractions of English day to day life.
It was easy to write with my own voice if the only books I could buy were written in French.
For the first two years I didn’t have a TV. It took another year before I got a computer.
Long walks in the forest gave me time to think; I discovered that if I read out loud what I was writing, as though I was talking to a friend in a pub, the words came together better. That was a good trick to learn.
I also realised that if you're going to wander round talking to yourself, it's best to do it in the middle of a forest whilst pretending to be mushrooming! That way you’re less likely to worry your new neighbours that you’re just another one of those newly arrived expat nutters who’ve recently come to live amongst them. That’s something that I took pains to avoid.
In terms of my writing, I also learned to use the words normal people use and not try to be clever with the fancy ones.
I discovered that if I want to write dialogue, I need to do it longhand – for me, at least, it doesn’t work otherwise.
And, if I use a computer or a word processor, it needs to be very basic so as not to distract from the job in hand.
It is with little tricks like these that one develops as a writer. The confidence that one gains adds confidence to one’s writing. And that shines through.
It doesn’t really become any easier because, as one progresses, one should strive to attain even more. I think that the more I've learned how to write, the more I've learned how little I knew how to write.
I don’t think that there are any short cuts. You can read books about writing but, in my opinion, you are better off trying to write books – that’s the eventual aim anyway, isn’t it?
The only two books about writing that have ever helped me are...
The Elements of Style by Strunk and White and On Writing by Stephen King.
The first is a tiny book (you can and should carry it in your pocket at all times) that explains a set of simple rules that, with whose help, will get you into shape so that you'll then know when to break or bend the rules.
The second book is part writing manual and part autobiography and explains those same rules as the first book but in a more relaxed manner.
My opinion of all those other books that claim to be able to turn you into a writer is that you might learn a bit but nothing really beats Stephen King’s formula that to be a writer all you need to do is read a lot and write a lot. If you’ve got anything going for you, you’ll end up reading the stuff you’re going to learn from and, as a result, your writing will improve.
“Well, that's my little ramble over and done with. If you're interested in writing yourself, you probably won't have learned anything worth learning from it and if you just like to read, there's only one thing I can say to you...”
Read to Live, Live to Read!
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