One of the many sizeable regrets in my life is not taking Art at GCSE. My art teacher – the wonderful, Mrs McKenzie – quietly took me aside on two separate occasions and encouraged me to take it. “You need to do this, James.” Computer Studies had just been made part of the spec, and I was keen to do that instead. Felt so modern, and future-giving.

Got an E.
100%, I’m no artist. Don’t be fooled, and don’t entertain for one solitary second that I’m harbouring some hidden, latent talent, that I’ll surprise you all with – Ah-hah! There you go– because it just isn’t true. My recent, repeated attempts at depicting an Irish Wolfhound, for example, serve as a barometer at how hopeless I am at all this. But I do like to draw, and it helps me no end. I’m a visual guy.
As a writer, illustrating my conundrums, and then forming the invisible lines between them has proved a pressure-cooker release for yours truly, and I’m not exaggerating. Of course, my writing path always follows systematic desire lines: inspiration and the free-flow first, and then (if I’m struggling and the words weigh increasingly heavy), it’s time to map the main sequences. I’ve used this approach for Shelly 1/2, Children, and for this latest novel in particular. For me, it takes the form of a story board, with random segments/characters/situations hitting the page in an arbitrary fashion.
I’ll illustrate this post with an example, but obviously not from SB. Bk 1 ABOBS… because I don’t want to give an inkling away.

But it’s only very recently, that I’ve finally figured the modus operandi of how this is all working, and most certainly… why detectives find it so useful in solving crimes. Maybe it’s my old Psych/Crim degree slowly surfacing in my subconscious, and prescribing me the antidote, but I am definitely aware – more than ever – of how important the storyboard is as a salient tool as I approach the end of a novel.
Aka the evidence board, btw.
Put it this way, when you write… you’re gathering evidence… clues… that, if you persevere, will link some pretty astounding stuff together. Trust the process. You can do this. Writing is about re-engineering our prescribed ways of thinking – dispelling the linear lines – and turning our brains upside down, to shake out the content. You’ll learn your ‘bespoke’.

As always, when I post, I hope I’m saying something relevant, or at least, thoughtful and helpful. I couldn’t care less for providing beige platitudes, but I’m all for promoting the salubrious tonic that writing gives us all.
See that blank space on the page behind you.
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Needs filling.
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Not just by me. You find yours, and fill it with whatever way you see fit, and above all, learn to thrive!
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