Taking Apart The Sterkarms...

Here I sit, on the floor, surrounded by gear wheels and springs,

The Sterkarm Handshake and A Sterkarm Kiss by Susan Price

sprockets and puppet heads, ratchets and screws.

     For the past couple of weeks I've been taking the Sterkarm books apart and trying to figure out how they go. There are bits of Book Two: A Sterkarm Kiss lying around here somewhere. And one or two parts from Book One: The Sterkarm Handshake have rolled under the settee.

     Mostly, though, the bits are from Book Three, which has a working title of A Sterkarm Embrace - but I'm still not sure whether to go with that or not.

     My editor, Matrice Hussey, gave me a very detailed consideration of the book, and one of the points she made is that I had begun it very abruptly, at the point where Book Two ends.

     Not everyone who picks up Book Three, she said, is going to have read the first two. Or, if they have, they might have forgotten them - so it makes sense to  have a longer lead in, to set the scene, and fill in a little of the background. As most of the actions takes place in the 16th Century, it would be good to have an idea of what was going on in the 21st.

     So I've pulling things apart and rewriting, with these points in mind. I think Matrice's advice is turning out to be very good - but lord, it's been nipping my head full sore.

     I had an uncle who was notorious for taking apart watches and clocks, and then not being able to put them back together again. I feel his pain. Where does this bit go? Will that bit work if I force it in there?

     This clockwork figure is almost working again, but I've lost its head. - Oh, now that delicate bit of wiring has snapped.

     I keep telling myself I'm enjoying it. I like rewriting. I will sort it out. I will, I will...

Navigating the rewritten rewrites...

          There are tides in the affairs of blogs, and the tide for this one

The Sterkarm Handshake

has been far out for a couple of weeks.
          Partly I've been very busy with selling my late parents' house, clearing it of all their stuff, and redistributing heirlooms. I've made so many trip to the local dump that the blokes down there - a very friendly, helpful lot - have given me my own parking space and put me on their Christmas card list.
          But somewhere in all this, I actually finished Sterkarm 3. Again.
          I was rewriting it because my agent wanted me to make a clearer distinction between the two - yes, count 'em - two gangs of Sterkarms. "We only have one bite at this cherry," she said. "I don't want to offer it until it's right."
          To help me keep track of 147,000 words, I've used Word's 'navigation pane', which is immensely useful. If you've never used it, it's a quick, simply way of putting a hyperlink into a file. A side-panel, or pane, opens down the left-hand side of the screen. When I highlighted a chapter heading, and then clicked on 'Heading 1', that heading appeared in the side-panel.

         If I wanted to be able to find a particular scene, I gave it a sub-heading, highlighted it and clicked 'Heading 2'. It then appeared in the side-panel under the chapter heading, but in less heavy type, and inset - so I could easily see the difference between the start of a chapter, and the beginning of scenes within it.
          As the words, and 50-odd chapter mounted up, so the chapter headings and subheading appeared down the left-hand side.
If I was suddenly reminded, as I worked on chapter 47, of some detail I should have added to chapter 9, then all I had to do was click on the heading 'Chapter 9' in the side-panel, and the hyperlink would jump me straight back there. If I knew the scene I wanted, I could jump straight to that scene. It's made rewriting a hell of a lot easier.
          But only so far. This must be the fourth or fifth rewrite. I thought I would be nipping through and doing nothing more than knocking out the sub-headings, to make a nice, tidy typescript for my agent to read. Instead I've been reading passages and thinking, 'Why on earth did I write that? How can I ever have thought that made sense? Or was good enough?'
          And so I'm cutting - slashing, sometimes - and changing and re-ordering. But I am intent on finishing this spruce-up in as short a time as possible, and will then email it to my agent. I promise.

 My sketch map of Sterkarm country, made of two pieces of scrap paper taped together and scribbled on.

          And this is where Blott has gone. He's out the back somewhere, chasing paranormal rodents round the bins.

 

NAILING THE STERKARMS

coloured pens bought especially to nail my novel

          Now February is here, I have to start thinking about rewriting Sterkarm 3.

          Throughout January I’ve been able to think: Oh, rewriting is the best part!  Rewriting is fun!  The wearisome slog of trudging through a first draft is over!  Rewriting is where you make real progress with a book.

          Yeah – but soon I’m going to have to DO it, which is something else again.  I shall have to confront all those clumsy, clichéd, or unbelievable passages which make you want to go out into the garden and bury yourself.  But, instead, I shall have to try and decide what to do about them.

Just to annoy Madwippet

          I shall have to hunt out all those scenes which I really liked and where I really captured something or other – but which don’t do anything for this book.  And make myself get rid of them.

          And I’m up for it, I absolutely am.  I’ve done it before.  I’ve even enjoyed it.  I’m keen to start, honest.  But dreading it too.  It’s equal and opposites forces – as much as I’m jittery and dancing with eagerness to start, there’s an equally powerful feeling that says: Not yet, not yet.  Wait for it, wait for it!

          I want to wait until I just can’t NOT start.  That’s always worked for me in the past, whether rewriting or starting something new.

          I’m keen to start rewriting for another reason – though wait for it, wait for it – and that’s because I’ve decided to try something new.  New to me, anyway.  Partly out of curiosity and partly out of desperation, I’ve been reading Roz Morris’ 'Nail Your Novel', as I mentioned last week.  I've finished it now, and I remain impressed.  So impressed that I’m going to try the methods she suggests, both for rewriting Sterkarm 3 and for outlining ‘the next big thing’ my agent wants.  I’ve already bought the cards and coloured pens.

Roz Morris

          Now quite often, when I’ve read ‘How-To’ books on writing before, I’ve thought, ‘What a load of faff.  I’ve never done anything like that in 35 years of writing, nor am I ever likely to bother.’ 

          And to be brutally honest, I more than half expected to think the same of Nail Your Novel.  Instead, I was impressed by the down-to-earth practicality of its advice.  I read it thinking: ‘Good idea!  And, yes, I can see the sense in doing that.’  It doesn’t  tell you to complete the exercises at the end of each chapter (does anybody,ever?), or spend twenty minutes each day writing about nothing, or to meditate.

          Instead Roz offers a very clear method – she calls it a ‘beat-sheet’ – of mapping your books strengths and weaknesses, evaluating them, editing them, and shuffling what's left into the best possible order.  Instead of thinking, ‘What a faff,’ I got excited because I could see very clearly how I could make practical use of her method.  It was a sort of super-charged, better thought-out version of methods I’d already stumbled into myself without ever giving much actual thought to what I was doing.

          So I'm going to use Roz’s ‘beat sheet’ approach to tackling the Sterkarms.  See her book for details, but it involves the afore-mentioned coloured pens and sheets of paper.  And a time-line, which I feel in desperate need of.  I shall report back on how it goes.  And also on the plotting of ‘the next big thing’, for which I shall use the cards and another of Roz’s methods.

          I am feeling quite excited to be trying something new.  But
I’m still not quite ready to start.  Wait for it, wait for it -

          Roz Morris' NAIL YOUR NOVEL can be found here.

          Roz blogs here, and on Authors Electric.


          And I've just published HEAD AND TALES as an e-book, revised and with notes added.

          In ancient myth, the severed head stood for Wisdom.  In story after story, the severed head speaks and gives counsel.

          A sick man, a story-teller, dying in a work-camp, fears for the children he’ll leave behind in a harsh world.

          His last wish is that his head be cut off, and carried by his children on their long walk home to the grandmother they have never seen.

          When they are tired, despairing, threatened, the head opens its eyes – and tells stories.  Words have power.  Stories can be spells.

          Here are the stories the head tells…

          And here's Blott  -