I'M STUCK! Time to bump someone else off.

 I'M STUCK!

Time to bump someone else off.

I'm just over a third of the way through writing BLOOD ON THE DUNES, and I'm struggling. Normally, at this stage in a book I have several story threads going in different directions, not actually knowing when and where they will come together. But whether it's because of the pandemic or something else I seem to have reached a point where I know where the disparate stories are going to resolve, and I'm not even halfway through!

Without giving too much away, a skeleton has been revealed in the sand (hence the book title) and a man has been found dead after a big storm. Also, a boy is missing from a children's home. Unfortunately, I know just how these are connected, but it's far to early to reveal the connection. I've given this a huge amount of thought, on my walks on the beach with Aggie, without coming up with any sensible ideas. Then, yesterday, I had a brainwave. I'm going to have to produce another body!

This might sound drastic, and, on the face of it, not very realistic, but I think I can blend another death into the story, convincingly. I just hope it will provide enough fodder to help carry the story on for another 50,000 words. Fingers crossed.

WRITER'S BLOCK? WHAT BLOCK

 WRITER'S BLOCK

WHAT WRITER'S BLOCK?

A bit of a tongue in cheek title for this blogpost as I don't actually suffer from writer's block. Words have never been a problem for me. Probably as a result of being 5/8ths Irish - yes really. Plus my mother kissed the Blarney Stone. (I went to Blarney Castle a few years ago but as I suffer from vertigo, there was no way I was going to lean over backwards to kiss it, so the gift of the gab must have come from her.)

However, when I'm writing I sometimes come to a point where I'm not sure how the narrative should progress or in which direction to take it.

I learned a valuable lesson, many moons ago, in a different life, when I was ceramic designer. Then, being young and headstrong, I thought that if I just ploughed on doggedly, when stuck, something would come out of it. I soon learned it was completely the wrong approach. If I did this, whatever I produced would be either absolute rubbish or things would just keep on going wrong. But if I left the problem alone and did something totally different for a while, when I returned to it things seemed to work out. (I will admit that the something different might involve alcohol, but as I said, I was much younger then.)

These days, now that I'm older and wiser (!) I have a different approach. I put the writing aside and take myself and Aggie for a long walk, usually on the beach. Something about the openness of the landscape or the fresh air or the lack of distractions, helps to clear my mind. Then, the plot, or characters, become clearer, and I return home refreshed, knowing the direction the story is going to take. 

I also treated myself to a drum kit, when I reached a recent milestone birthday, and the discipline of concentrating on keeping time is another good distraction.