Character - The Writing Coach

The Silence of the Archives – A guest post by Pete Langman

February 24, 2020 by Jacqui Lofthouse Filed Under: Authors, Books, Character, Guest post, Inspiration, Literary Consultancy, Reading, The writing coach, The writing life, Writers 1 Comment

Our former client Pete Langman, author of Killing Beauties, met his publisher John Mitchinson of Unbound at our Writing Coach ‘Google Academy’ event

Here he writes about how we transform archival material when writing historical fiction.

If it takes an historian to rediscover an exciting but little-known character’s life, the historical novelist can imagine them a new one. But how does this work, and what are the pitfalls? These questions were brought into sharp relief during the writing of Killing Beauties, a novel that follows the adventures of two female spies, Susan Hyde and Diana Jennings, in 1655/6, when England was a republic under the rule of Oliver Cromwell. These women dealt in information, and the novel begins the delivery of a message that will change their lives.

I was introduced to Susan and Diana by my partner, Dr Nadine Akkerman, as she was researching her (bloody splendid) book Invisible Agents: women and espionage in seventeenth-century Britain. She wasn’t that far into the task before it seemed as if Nadine was operating more as spycatcher than researcher, and it was only in the face of her relentless work that the she-intelligencers slowly gave up their secrets. As Nadine put ever more flesh on their archival bones, we began to realise that they were the perfect protagonists to star in a work of historical fiction. What was so promising about this pair was partially the fact that they were operating in the same circles at the same time, and yet don’t appear to have met, and partially the fact that their lack of excitement about the idea of being caught led to their tracks being pretty well covered over.

These women were slippery characters, and the archives would only give up so much information, making it difficult to work out an absolutely solid and continuous trajectory to their stories. This, of course, is not unusual, however, it’s just how history works. Archives rarely answer every question you put to them.

There are two approaches available to the historical novelist: to fictionalise history or historicise fiction. A fictionalised history is one in which a story is woven around actual events, while historicised fiction is one in which historical detail is inserted into a story. I would say I chose the former, but it would be more accurate to say that the former chose me.

Archives do not tell us everything. There are always gaps. Sometimes you can fill them in by using other sources (though this needs to be approached with care), but sometimes they simply insist on remaining as gaps. The primary site of divergence between the historian and the novelist is in the way they approach these gaps: for the former they are traps; the latter, portals. I could make the gaps work with me rather than against me.

The stories of Susan and Diana were very detailed in certain areas, and utterly obscure in others. Diana practically vanishes until the 1660s following her arrest in 1655, while Susan’s final few days on earth are recorded in a letter that also says her body was spirited away from prison by friends. Edward Hyde, her brother and the author of the History of the Rebellion fails to mention her death at the hands of Parliament. This omission, the reasons for which we can only speculate upon, gave me a great opportunity. I had a solid story of a woman risking all for king and country, and losing. The fact that she then vanishes from the records meant that I could do anything I wanted, within reason.

The opportunity that the archives presents to novelists

Where there is a lack of evidence, the historian must tread carefully, warily avoiding suppositions and remembering not to fall foul of the sin of repeating a ‘perhaps Shakespeare had seen X’ in the form of ‘having seen X, Shakespeare …’. The historian may speculate, but carefully, very, very carefully. Both historian and novelist chart the same territory, but the latter may draw the map that results however they wish.

People in the past appear more reliable, honest, predictable and knowable than we are for one reason – their stories are fixed in the history books. It is in that fixedness that we find the safety of truth. But truth, like the history presented in books, is in large part an illusion.

The stories of Susan and Diana were rich enough in information to show me the way, and yet it was the silence of the archives that allowed me the freedom to play.

Lucy Kaufman’s Play – Eleanor Marx: The Jewess of Jews Walk

May 2, 2018 by Jacqui Lofthouse Filed Under: Authors, Character, Events, playwriting, The writing coach, Writers Leave a Comment

We are delighted to announce that Lucy Kaufman’s play ‘The Jewess of Jews Walk’ is now playing at The Sydenham Centre, London – there’s still time to grab your tickets…

Lucy Kaufman is a former client of The Writing Coach and also attended Jacqui Lofthouse’s workshop with Clare Barry for Paradise Road Project – on that workshop, she made a resolution to finish the writing of The Jewess of Jew’s Walk.

This original drama by Lucy Kaufman is produced and directed by Jonathan Kaufman.

The show began its run on Wednesday 18th April and is open until Saturday 12th May 2018 at The Sydenham Centre, London

8pm, Wed-Sat (except Thur 3 May)

Click here to book tickets.

Lucy writes:

In 2015 I attended Paradise Road Project, a day workshop run by Jacqui Lofthouse and Clare Barry. The workshop was intended as a chance for creatives to unplug from technology and cyberspace, refocus our minds, and allow inspiration available in our real, urban environment to inspire us. As both a playwright and author, I juggle a multitude of vying ideas and, back in 2015, struggled with deciding which project or projects to focus my attention and energies on.

For one workshop exercise we created a list of projects we’d love to bring into the world, and were aided in prioritising those projects and allowing a particular project to come to the fore as the one we wanted to tackle next. I made long list of plays, novels, and short stories I wanted to write: projects I had begun working on and some I’d put on the back burner, along with brand new ideas that were generated by the very act of sitting down and allowing what I love to emerge. I still enjoy referring to that list now and again, to see how many of the projects listed there have come to fruition.

On that list is the idea that became Pretty Bubbles, my novel about my mum and Bobby Moore, that came 3rd in ‘Pen to Print: Real Stories, Real Lives’ competition. On the list is an exciting idea for a YA novel I plan to write later this year. On that list is The Wig Show, a short story I had been playing over in my mind for a number of years that I wrote in the days immediately after attending the workshop and can be found here: https://lucykaufman.wordpress.com/2018/03/08/happy-international-womens-day/ And on the list is Eleanor Marx: The Jewess of Jews Walk, my play about Karl Marx’s remarkable youngest daughter that has a four-week run in Sydenham, around the corner from where she lived and died.

The play tells the true story of an inspirational woman and her tragic final days

“Lucy Kaufman’s superb play puts Eleanor Marx centre stage where she belongs” Rachel Holmes, Eleanor Marx’s biographer

When Eleanor Marx moved to 7 Jews Walk, Sydenham, in 1895, she believed she would be happy there. To Eleanor — a self-styled ‘Jewess’ — even the name of the road seemed a good omen. Her hopes could not be further from reality. Within months, Karl Marx’s youngest daughter was suffering at the hands of her common-law husband Edward Aveling, with shocking consequences. To this day, the dramatic events that unfolded at 7 Jews Walk are shrouded in mystery and doubt…

Now Sydenham’s very own theatre company Spontaneous Productions is bringing this true story to life Upstairs at the Sydenham Centre, just around the corner from where Eleanor Marx and Edward Aveling lived out their final few years. Lucy Kaufman’s powerful new drama celebrates this remarkable woman — political activist, translator, early feminist and often neglected figure of historical importance — whilst tackling themes of love, loyalty, identity, betrayal, domestic abuse and the role of women in society.

Click here to book tickets.

Hidden Stories: the story behind the story

March 13, 2017 by Jacqui Lofthouse Filed Under: Authors, Books, Character, Guest post, Inspiration, Writers Leave a Comment

We are delighted to announce the publication of The Belfast Girl by former Writing Coach Client Caroline Doherty de Novoa. Caroline writes this guest post about hidden stories to celebrate her publication.

Hidden stories, The Belfast Girl, Caroline Doherty de Novoa, Story

The Belfast Girl by Caroline Doherty de Novoa

A lesson in journalism

Nora Ephron’s high school journalism teacher once set the class an assignment to write an article for the student newspaper, about an all day conference all faculty members were attending the following Thursday. Nora went away, interviewed the teachers, found out all the relevant facts about the conference: the times, the topics, the speakers. She wrote it up, taking care over every sentence, making sure it was well structured and clear. And she handed it in feeling quietly confident.

The following Monday, the teacher gave back the papers. Or threw them back to be more precise. Nora, the over-achieving straight-A student was horrified when the teacher, a look of disgust on his face, dumped her paper on the desk in front of her with a big red C minus scrawled across it.

The teacher walked to the front of the room and started writing something up on the board. Here is the real story:

‘Time to celebrate: there’s no class on Thursday.’

I know it was a lesson in journalism. But I think about it a lot when I’m sitting down to write a short story, a novel or, in my latest adventure, a play.

Caroline Doherty de Novoa

The unseen story

Where is the unseen story that’s crouched around the edges of the obvious , perhaps only just visible in your peripheral vision, perhaps only discoverable if you lift up the obvious, take a look underneath it, or turn it around and look at it from a different angle?

I recently read Chimerica, the play by Lucy Kirkwood about ‘Tank Man’. You may not immediately recognise him by his nickname but you’ve probably seen a photo of him. Black trousers, a simple white shirt, hands at his sides holding large shopping bags, a large tank advancing towards him.

Tank Man is the nickname of the man who stood in front of a Chinese army tank on the morning of 5^th June 1989—the day after the Tiananmen Square Massacre. As the tank manoeuvred to bypass him, Tank Man repeatedly put himself in front of the tank’s path, obstructing its march forward.

Chimerica by Lucy Kirkwood

Tank Man appears on the cover of Chimerica. And you’d be forgiven for thinking the play is about him. His story must be interesting, right?

The play opens at the exact moment Tank Man is staring down the tank. But the first scene isn’t set in the square. It’s in a hotel room. There’s a US photographer leaning out the window taking that famous picture. And you soon realise there is another story there beyond the one that’s immediately apparent—the story of the man behind the camera.

Later in the play, as we follow the photographer in his search for Tank Man, the man who made him famous, we realise there is, actually, a third man whose story is just as fascinating, just as important. He isn’t Tank Man. He isn’t the photographer. But the risks he took were just as great. And he’s been there, right in front of us, all along. If only we’d known how to really look—how to see the story lingering in the shadows.

Hidden stories

I’ve been thinking a lot about those hidden stories recently, ever since I published my second novel last month and started talking to people about it.

People ask, ‘what’s it about?’

‘Motherhood,’ I’ll explain, ‘the book opens in a Belfast hotel room in 1993—a couple in their late-thirties are buying a baby from a younger couple.’ And then I’ll get that look. Sometimes, I even get that question. It comes in a variety of forms:

‘Are you getting broody?’

‘Will we hear the pitter patter of tiny feet soon?’

Or, my favourite: ‘Are you guys thinking of having a family?’ (As if my husband, my parents, my sister and her kids, my many wonderful aunts, uncles and cousins I’m blessed with don’t really count.)

You see I’m a woman in my late-thirties, happily married and childless. People see me, they hear the premise for the book, and they automatically think they know what I want, they think they get my story.

They don’t stop to think about what’s going on at the periphery of that opening scene in the hotel—in the room and outside of it—about all the strands flowing from the same event, all the alternative ways of looking. Who can blame them? We so rarely do look beyond the obvious. I often don’t. Which is why, to remind me, I have a post-it note stuck next to my writing desk with the words ‘Time to celebrate: there’s no class on Thursday.’

When people ask about the note, I say, ‘Let me tell you a story. In fact, let me tell you three.’

Caroline Doherty de Novoa’s second novel, The Belfast Girl is out now. Her other work includes Dancing with Statues, a novel set in Ireland and Colombia, and the anthology of creative non-fiction Was Gabo an Irishman? Tales from Gabriel García Márquez’s Colombia, which she co-authored and edited.

To learn more about Caroline’s writing please visit www.carolinedohertydenovoa.com or find her on twitter @carolinedenovoa

You can read about Caroline’s work with The Writing Coach here.

Branding Workshop for Content Creation at The Shard, London

July 2, 2016 by Jacqui Lofthouse Filed Under: Character, Community, Confidence, Corporate, Events, Inspiration, Markets for your work, Networking, Teaching, Writing Exercises Leave a Comment

I had the great pleasure recently to lead a branding workshop for content creation at The Shard, London. What a wonderful venue for a workshop this was, with a glorious panoramic view of London. This short video put together by Tom Hewitson gives a flavour of the event.

The workshop for Tom’s Content Lab was entitled ‘Bringing Brands and Bots to life’.

Content Lab is a monthly get together for writers, designers, product managers and anyone else interested in making products and problems easier to understand.

Using creative writing techniques to lend character to brands

The workshop I led used creative writing techniques to lend character to brands. The aim was to enable participants to find new ways of creating characters which might then be used to encourage readers and consumers to better identify with brands. I began the content creation workshop using the same creative writing exercises that I’d use with writers of fiction. We studied paintings to inspire us and worked with props and cue cards with suggested sensory details, such as particular smells or locations. We worked using free writing techniques, and those attending were able to enjoy creating in such an open-ended way. Later, we applied these techniques more specifically to characters that related to products, working in teams.

Tom is particularly interested in ‘bots’ – the user-friendly robots such as Apple’s Siri – and how these bots can encourage consumer loyalty. Each of the teams came up with characters that might help a reader/user identify with a brand. For example, one of the teams came up with a ‘Farmer Bot’ with a very particular voice and character to engage potential customers of an organic fruit and veg. delivery service. The participants seemed to really enjoy this exercise. There was a lot of laughter and it was fabulous to witness how quickly they were able to use the techniques to invent really unique characters that helped us to understand the nature of the relevant product.

We had a hugely enjoyable evening and I was delighted at the feedback after the content creation event. Content Strategist Stephen Wilson-Beales, Head of Editorial at Global Radio, London, also wrote a lovely blog post about the event here: Using Creative Writing Techniques to shape Content Design.

A big thank you to Tom Hewitson for hosting the workshop. I definitely aim to lead more workshops of this nature and would welcome enquiries from organisations looking to encourage a different approach to creativity in their teams.

If you are a content creator, I’d love to hear whether you use fiction-related techniques in your work and how you might develop such ideas.

Creating Convincing Characters (The Archive Series)

March 31, 2011 by Jacqui Lofthouse Filed Under: Character, Inspiration, Technique, Writing Exercises 1 Comment

As I launch the new Writing Coach website, I thought it would be a good idea to also celebrate the history of The Writing Coach by beginning this series of blog posts and articles from my own archive. In coming weeks I’ll be sharing some of my favourite archive articles.

This image of the author John Fowles inspired the character Harold Bliss in my novel Bluethroat Morning

This one “Creating Convincing Characters” is more a series of notes than an article. I prepared the notes for a talk I gave at the Cheltenham Literary Festival in 2005. I hope you find them useful.

Creating Convincing Characters

When we write fiction in an organic way, we do not need to begin with a plot. We can begin by creating our characters. The plot grows from the characters and not vice-versa. For example, my novel Bluethroat Morning grew from a fragment of a rejected novel; from a single image of a Victorian woman in a bustle dress walking along a Norfolk beach, side by side with her elderly uncle who was wheezing for breath.

Characterisation includes aspects of character we may consider when first building characters, including:

Physical appearance
Dialogue & narrative voice
Self-perception of character and the perceptions of others
The character’s history
The character’s conflicts and desires
The thoughts and actions of the character

Yet character emerges through the difficult choices a person makes. In other words, if you are an organic writer, it is discovered only in the process of writing.

So we can begin with a visual image, we can do writing exercises to begin filling in the gaps (for example using lists like those in the list below – a common method). But real character goes deeper. It emerges when you put characters in situations and conflict with other characters, when you begin to dream about them and build on the characterisation. Characters develop and grow.

They may at first emerge from a fragment

A phrase that intrigues you
Visual images – paintings, photographs (I’m a huge John Fowles fan and his picture inspired my character Harold Bliss in Bluethroat Morning)
Composites of people we know
A face on a bus or a fragment of conversation

We then build these characters – by journaling, writing or dreaming about them. Maybe we’ll pin pictures above our desks: the novelist Deborah Moggach (author of Tulip Fever and more recently In the Dark) once told me she likes to use Michael Gambon’s face as an inspiration because she feels it is so open to interpretation.

We may set ourselves an exercise – for example – ‘write your character’s obituary’. Or we may write a scene about a central childhood experience, to begin to understand the character’s past. I did this for Harold Bliss, when I felt I didn’t know him well enough and the scene I wrote became a vital passage in the novel.

As we write our characters, so they begin to build in our imagination. Only through regular writing do they begin to live and act in unexpected ways…

If we keep notebooks, where we scribble ideas about our characters, we are giving them room to grow. They must never be static.

Character is about more than a set piece description. It is dynamic: a vital life force within a work of fiction.

And characters develop through conflict.

Where do your characters experience conflict?And how do our characters develop?

My experience is: it comes partly through writing partly through dreaming. It’s like getting to know a person. First you simply see them, then you see them in a certain situation, then they start to tell you their life-history, you notice their habits, you begin understanding their habits, their turn of phrase becomes familiar and you start to be able to anticipate how they will behave. You may wish to experiment: utilise different narrative methods to explore them such as playing with a first person voice, writing their dialogue, an internal monologue or a third person view of their life.

I suggest you be playful in your approach.

Try putting a character in a situation that is likely to cause some distress or difficulty, and write the scene using close observation. Think about what that person wants. What spurs them on? Desire and conflict are vital.

I once heard Iris Murdoch speak in a lecture at UEA. She said that we must like our characters – even those who appear on the surface to be abhorrent. If we do not ‘like’ them (for which you can substitute ‘understand’) then your reader is unlikely to want to be drawn into their story. Every character has their own justification for acting as they do.

Aim not merely to describe, but rather to illustrate character through action and dialogue. Don’t tell rather show. Let that character be revealed to us. Showing involves putting your character in a situation and seeing how he/she reacts. Describing the action in some detail, using dialogue. Taking it slowly.

Your own curiosity is vital too. If you have a genuine desire to understand how a particular character works, you are half way there.

Use this list of questions to inspire a journal entry about your character:

Write down two random facts about this person
What is their most important life event to date?
If they could change one thing about their life so far, what would it be?
Who do they love?
Who do they hate?
What is their favourite item of clothing?
What is their greatest desire?
Is it a secret or a public desire?
How do they envisage their life ten years from now?
What was their first sexual experience?
What makes them angry?
What is their earliest childhood memory?
What frightens them?
What does their voice sound like?
What is the texture of their skin?

I look forward to hearing what emerges from these questions and ideas for you.