Exactly the kind of fans that writers don't get. Image courtesy of Michael Dornbierer.

Now, I don’t want to brag, but due to some of the work I’ve done in the past I’ve had the chance to meet (and even work with) several people of varying degrees of fame. I’ll admit, sometimes I’m kinda cool and laconic about it, other times I get all girly and squealy and have to stop myself from saying something along the lines of ‘Oh my god! You’re *insert name of celebrity here*!’ and start gushing. Hey, it’s a curse. But meeting Michael Marshall was something different.

Book Readings

Now then, I’m sure anyone who is interested in reading (and writing for that matter) has been to a book event, or a signing, or some such like, and had the opportunity to listen to authors reading from their latest opus. At my local Waterstones, it seems like they have some local writer in every month doing book signings. But what differentiated my experience for me was that the two readings I went to, both lasted an hour, and it involved a significant question and answer session.

And it is not just a thrill but an inspiration to be able to ask questions, and indeed discuss, elements of the writing process with a writer who you admire, whose work you enjoy, and whom you may even emulate. It is probably a good thing I’ve never been to a Neal Asher reading, since I no doubt would just steal his idea’s outright.

Other side of the Fence

For me personally, it was a significant experience. I write in the same genre as Marshall (sort of) so it was very informative to hear him talk about the publishing process for him. Things I’d never even thought of. Breaking into the American market for example. Getting one of his books optioned for a film treatment, and the difficult endless process that is involved in getting a book from page to screen (Yes, we’re all still waiting for that Spares movie.)

But it also allowed me the chance to explore his own creative process (which I was surprised to discover was really close to my own. And a million other writers, I imagine) and how he edits and develops ideas. I’ll admit, I took notes. It was just that little boost that helped push me forward into that difficult third act I was writing at the time, and helped me to get my first book finished (the first draft anyway).

So yes, if you’re having problems, or your confidence is starting to wane, then I would recommend (if you have the opportunity of course) to go to a book reading, because I found it hugely inspirational.

I also got my copies of every one of his books personally signed. *cue girlish squealing*

Yes, that influence thing.

Now both Matt and myself have said on several occasions (not that this is some unique revelation, its just simple fact) that to be a good writer, you have to be a good reader. Read read read. Not just in terms of research (for the more technically minded out there) but in terms of the genre you’re writing in. If you write crime fiction, then logic dictates that you should read a lot of crime fiction, just to see what’s out there, and how to make yourself unique.

Yup, all well and good, right?

Insidious Tentacles

The one thing you must be absolutely aware of, at all times, is to not become so influenced that you essentially copy another writer’s work. Yes, okay, to a certain extent, this is unavoidable. If you take the point of view that there are no new stories, just new versions of stories then, yes, to a certain extent you are going to copy.

You may even have one or two favoured writers whose prose really clicks with you, and you may attempt to emulate their style. I have done this with my writing in the past. Some of my earlier attempts at writing funny stuff was greatly influenced by Robert Rankin, but that was more just his style as opposed to ideas. Another big influence for me has been Michael Marshall (a.k.a. Michael Marshall Smith), who I’ve had the pleasure of meeting on more than one occasion.

However, my latest project, which I have lamented about in previous posts, has driven me to a most disturbing (and slightly depressing) revelation.

Plagiarism

Yes. This is what I’m talking about. There is a huge difference I’d like to make here between copying (emulating) and plagiarism (uh, copying). Obviously if you write a story about a young farm boy named Lucas Airrunner wanting to avenge the death of his family by learning the ways of ‘The Power’ and taking on an evil galactic Imperium with the help of a pirate named Han Duo and his furry associate Munchbacca, then you’re clearly just ripping off some franchise I shall not name here. It’s perfectly obvious that you’re plagiarising. But where is the line? At what point does simply emulating a preferred writer’s style cross over into plagiarism?

I feel I should point out here that no matter who you are, unless you are a truly terrible writer, then you will have your own writers’ voice. I’m not questioning that. I have been told in the past that my own writers’ voice is particularly prominent in my work. I may post about that later.

But getting back to my most recent project, I’ve been having trouble nailing down how act two works. So I went back to the drawing board. There was a major subplot (why a group of people are doing what they’re doing) which remained murky. This is what I get for just improvising. So I went back to explore the reasons, and come up with some back story to explain. And I had one of those monumental realisations. One of those truly magic moments when massive chunks fall into place and it is as if all obstacles have been removed.

OK, so it may not have cleared up everything, but the revelation was enough that I felt I could write that as a self contained story, which would probably be novella length.

Yes, so far, so good. But there was something niggling at me, at the back of my mind, and it wasn’t just the usual self-doubt.

Then I had me another revelation, only this one wasn’t as welcome.

Over the past few years I have read a lot of Neal Asher. All of his major novels in fact. And yes, I do admit, I do love the world of the Polity he has created, in all of it’s epic, violent, monstrously huge glory. I will even go so far as to admit that it was reading his work, being influenced by it that led me back to this long dormant project, and paved the way for me to get enthused about it again. But this week I have seriously begun to wonder whether I have been too influenced.

Am I Plagiarising?

Well, am I? This is the question. Yes, as with all niche genre’s, there are only limited options for you in terms of your writing. How do you make Vampire fiction fresh for example (answer: Leave it ten years for this latest phase to die down, then write the opposite of what this phase has been about)? But how do you write new, fresh big scale space operas?

How can you tell if you’re plagiarising? Well, one obvious way is if you get a lawsuit from your favourite author. That would be a big clue. But perhaps the only clue you need is if you actually ask yourself that question. Am I Plagiarising? It can be a depressing thought, and if it only dawns on you in the midst of writing something, then short of scrapping it, you can only really exercise damage control. Or leave the project alone for six months, start work on something else, then come back to it with fresh eyes.

As long as you don’t just use this as an excuse to not get something finished…

I was recently reading a book (yeah, great, what else are you going to do with a book, watch it?) Now I can’t remember if it was Bad Things by Michael Marshall, or whether it was something else, but this is the book that sticks in my mind, so it’s the example that I’ll use. Now I personally feel that Marshall is a master of pacing. The opening chapters are languid and easy going, not rushed at all, but I enjoy that. It puts you in a place, lets you get the feel of the characters, and helps settle you for the journey. And once things get underway you get swept up in the ride. Towards the end of the book, the chapters get snappier, shorter. Now, I’ve never really been a fan of tons of shorter chapters. Some books (such as those by Dan Brown) I check out to see how many chapters there are and when I note that there are over a hundred I roll my eyes. Yes, having lots of fast short chapters help you rush through the book, and keeps the pace up, but you don’t get time to see the characters, the situations, you’re along for the ride. It’s like watching a film and not being able to rewind to catch a moment you think you might have missed.

Alternatively, sometimes I’ll see a massive doorstop of a book with only twenty chapters and I know I’ll have to drag myself kicking and screaming through it.

Maybe it’s a psychological effect.

Anyway, back to the short chapters. It struck me just how effective it was at ratcheting up the tension. A whole host of chapters jostling together, switching between different characters, passing almost in real time, really gets you on the edge of your seat, and whenever that happens, I feel I have to push through all the way to the end. I get to the last few chapters and I cant just leave it, I have to read them all. If I leave the last two chapters say, I feel like its switching a movie off five minutes from the end, and coming back to it later.

The reason I bring this all up is due to the climax of my first major project I got finished. During its (extremely long) development, I’ve received advice from various people (including Matt), most especially about my chapter lengths. Initially my chapters were short, and jumpy, which didn’t create a good rhythm. Then I arrived at the climax. Due to the way my redrafting had gone, the climax ended up being a race against time. What I decided to do with this was drop the reader right in it with the main character, and not let up until the end. So something like the last fifth of the book is one long chapter.

Great. I didn’t have a problem with that. When I first wrote it, my fingers could barely keep up with my brain while I was getting it all down, and I felt the rush that the character was going through. I showed it to some people for feedback and what did they say? It was exhausting. Not because having all of this in one block slowed it down in any way, but because it was relentless, they felt they needed time to breathe. And in retrospect, I can understand. Shorter, snappier chapters (especially when you switch between several characters all working towards the same goal) can keep the pace right up there, but without the associated exhaustion. Now, all I have to do is figure out how to break up this finale without my mind snapping…