I don’t sit down with a blank page to try and think up stories. I have tried that before. It doesn’t work for me. Instead, a story idea might begin anytime, anywhere, with an observation, or a scrap of overheard conversation, perhaps a serendipitous pairing of words that somehow dance together. Most often, a character turns up speaking in their own distinct voice with something of substance to say. It’s almost like dictation.
I scribble these things down when they come to me. Making notes on my phone feels more cumbersome, less fluid, but it’s another option if the phone is nearer to hand than pen and paper. After that, it’s a matter of finding quiet time. With the right constellation of silence, time on my own, refreshing sleep, and maybe caffeine, the writing process begins.
If my notes are on my phone I’ll transfer them to a word processor on my ageing laptop. If they are handwritten scraps, I’ll copy them out in order onto lined refill paper before typing them up. It might take hours over days, or days over weeks, for a rough story to evolve. That depends a lot on how much is already captured in note form, and the stability of that constellation of peace, energy, and time.
Then I need time away from the story, so that I can come back to it with new eyes. After a few hours away, little tweaks might come to me, and I make those changes immediately. Days or weeks away give me better perspective. I come back to the text and see gaps and inconsistencies, or sentences crammed with too many words. I hear awkward emphasis, and stumbles in the rhythm.
For me, time away from writing means doing something completely different. I might have several stories on the go at once, but I don’t switch quickly between them. Gardening, sewing, and spending time with family and friends are the things that refresh me, and distance me from the texts I’m working on. This distance is so important that I consider it an essential part of the writing process.
When a story finally feels done, I run it past other people. Does it make sense to someone who isn’t familiar with it? Does it hold their interest? Do the words flow naturally when someone else reads them aloud? When those questions are answered positively, I call my story finished.
Tania Sickling 