How Do I Write? by Neil McGowan

A long-time colleague of mine recently left our team, taking up a new post. He’d been in the team for sixteen years, so a decent send-off was required. I usually get asked to write something when people leave (a short, humorous poem or sketch) – it’s become a bit of a tradition, in fact, and over the years I must have written seven or eight of these little comic vignettes, but this time was a little different – as I’m currently in charge of the department, it fell to me to do the ‘official’ leaving speech as well.

I got there in the end – it was just a couple of hundred words, but took a surprising amount of time to write. It went down well, in the end – clean enough not to upset anyone, with some gentle ribbing recalling a few comic moments, and I managed to deliver it (after a few rehearsals behind a locked door) with perfect timing. So, a success.

This was last Thursday morning. We’d also arranged to have a few drinks after work the next night, and during the afternoon, I began to think about writing something for the pub, probably more suited for after a couple of drinks. By the time Friday afternoon arrived I was giggling to myself and knocked out a wee story in the style of the Janet and John stories that used to be a feature on Radio 2, full of double entendres and based on him going for an interview. It went down an absolute storm in the pub, to the extent I had to sign the printed copy, and another member of the team vowed never to leave in case she was the subject of a story.

But afterwards, and the real point of this, is a question I was asked later that night – one I suspect we’ve all been asked: – How do you write a story?

I started with the stock answer of ‘one word after another,’ but the response was, ‘Well, yes, but how do you actually write them?’

It had me stumped, and it's something I thought about over the next few days. How do I write?

Where do the words come from?

I think for me, at least, it’s a process of forming an image, or a series of images, and translating that into words. Sitting at the keyboard to write is a part of it, but if the imagery isn’t there, the writing is much harder. When I have an image of the start and end points of a scene in my head, the words seem to flow so much better. Yes, there are times I struggle over just a couple of hundred words, and there are times when I can breeze through a couple of thousand in a single night, but thinking back, the good nights have corresponded to having had time to form a coherent image. I often cycle to work – takes about an hour each way, and I use it as ‘me’ time to think about what I’m currently writing and where I want to take it. On the odd occasion I drive, (I try to avoid driving as I find no pleasure in it, but sometimes needs must) I tend to have less productive nights.

It’s interesting, to me at least, as I’ve never considered myself an overly visual person – I’d switch on the radio over the TV any day – but without these mental images, my writing seems to suffer. It’s also interesting because, as someone who tends not to plot too much (I’ve got better, but still prefer to keep the structure loose and let the story drive the route between start and finish) this to me seems like a kind of mental plotting.

This idea fascinates me – I’ve always thought of pantsing a story as less structured than a rigid plot. Yes, they may need more in terms of editing to tighten them up, but I’ve always thought too rigid a plot makes the story and characters wooden. I’ve never really considered it as more than the subconscious throwing out possible solutions to the problems I put in the way of my characters, but is it? Or is it more a case of the subconscious taking two ideas and plotting a route between them?

I’m not sure, and I don’t want to over-analyse it in case it breaks the magic. I think I’ll just sit back and continue doing what I’m used to; with hope, that means the stories will keep coming.