Let me begin with what I have learned from observing my mother, who is an author too: writing is above all a labour of love. The fact is that only a tiny number of people make real money writing books. (I can confirm this because I once had an internship at a literary agency and worked on contracts.)
My mother is not one of these few moneyed writers, although she has gained well-deserved recognition. She is one of the hardest-working people I know. Serious writers must establish good—nay, inflexible—habits. They have to, otherwise the book doesn’t get written; if you’re a writer, that book has to come into being.
Some of my very earliest memories involve the sound of the typewriter very early in the morning. Even if word processors had been available back then, she still would have needed a typewriter, since we lacked electricity in our villa. Mum habitually got up extremely early, before I, or later my little brother, woke up; this way she could concentrate and produce those crucial daily pages.
Another reason to rise early was to make the most of the cool morning air, since we were living on the Mediterranean island of Formentera, off the coast of Spain; it gets hot rapidly there, and when it does, the sea beckons and so does a siesta.
My mother had been awarded a government arts grant to write a novel, and to make it last we had to live somewhere cheap and cheerful. Formentera, with its herb-scented air, was inexpensive as well as beautiful; it was perfect. Nearby Ibiza was already built up by then.Because life could be lived simply and pleasurably on Formentera, it was becoming an informal artists’ colony. And so we joined it. My mother, in her twenties then, was learning to build her life around the practicalities of writing.
There are two essentials in the above scenario: 1) the thing that needs writing, and 2) the practises for getting the work done. You will know for certain that you “have a book in you” if you are haunted. When I was that child, my mother would talk about the protagonist of a novel she was writing. Her name was Sarah, and I believed she was real.
In a way, she was. Characters--people who live in imagination and memory--will nudge you, often quite persistently. They may visit you in dreams, or keep popping into your field of perception. Such entities are asking to take shape on the page. Sometimes they need coaxing. Keep a file, I would suggest a physical file or scrapbook, on these promptings and build your file into a book proposal. This will increase your sense of focus in addition to hopefully getting you a publisher.
The character could be a historical personage whose story needs fresh eyes—yours, to begin with. You may simply be curious about this figure. I had this experience with writing my new work of history, The Private Life of James II:
I had a nagging conviction that King James had been side-lined for political reasons, and that his charms, his many adventures and accomplishments as Duke of York were scarcely known. He seemed to want me to tell his story. The more I learned about him, the more I wanted others to know. Cultivate that type of curiosity and build a project out of it.
Create the conditions for good writing to happen. A routine doubles as a ritual, and ritual makes inspiration more likely. Most people can find it only during certain hours. If you’re lucky, these will coincide with the only hours you have to yourself—you need solitude. For my mother, it was early in the morning.
For me it’s the hours between 11am and 4pm. It is as if a portal opens, and, while it is ajar, I can invite the people who need their stories told. Once the portal shuts, I am confined to other work, such as editing, which is less creatively demanding-- but still absolutely necessary of course. I leave my new paragraphs alone for a while before I edit them.
Try to write in the same quiet place every day, building on custom. Your desk will become a kind of shrine to the people whose stories you are trying to tell. Create an atmosphere. Put up pictures of your subjects, either real pictures or pictures that suggest the characters in question.
It helps to play certain music—I write period pieces these days, and so I play Baroque music from the 17th century to evoke the right atmosphere. I chose music that I know King James actually played, for example. You may want to burn scented candles or incense and allow the sense of smell, which is tied to memory and imagination, to help bring forth the images and words you want. These things prompt your mind: These are the things I sense when I write.
I was a teenager when my mother got her first word processor, so there was no more familiar typing sound early in the morning. By this time we had lived in London, New York, a cabin in the British Columbia forest, and the city of Vancouver. Each move was a wrench for her because it meant setting up a new office. But my mother kept on producing because she took those firm habits with her wherever she went. Fortunately, the characters followed along too.
Justine Brown
About the Author
Justine Brown lives in London with her husband, and is the daughter of Joan Haggerty and author of several books on a Utopian theme. Born in Vancouver, Canada, Justine travelled widely from a young age. She holds an M.A. in English literature from the University of Toronto, where she developed a broad interest in seventeenth century culture. There she became a Junior Fellow of Massey College. The author of three Utopian-themed books, she runs a YouTube history vlog, Justine Brown’s Bookshelf. Find out more from Justine's website and follow her on Twitter @brown_bookshelf
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