How to write a novel
Tim Dowling's tips on resisting the allure of banjos, toast and YouTube
Writing a novel must be one of the easiest things to avoid doing in the world - chances are no one has asked you to do it, and no one will care if you don't. As soon as you start, almost every other activity in the world seems preferable. Distractions come in every shape, but these are, to my mind, the top five.
Food
Try to arrange things so that there are several flights of
stairs between you and anything remotely worth eating. My office is in
the attic of our house and the kitchen is on the ground floor, so when
I weigh up the choice between starting a new chapter and having some
toast, I have to factor in the journey. This is, of course, exactly the
wrong way round - walking down the stairs is no real bother, and once I
am in the kitchen the prospect of going all the way back up again means
that making several dozen profiteroles shaped like swans suddenly seems
a better use of my time.
Family Life
In many novels you will find an Acknowledgments page
in which friends are thanked for the use of cottages, beach houses or
flats in exotic locations, where the author at last found the necessary
isolation to complete his masterwork. Most of us, however, will not
have such options: we have to write even while we continue parenting,
walking the dog and executing urgent DIY projects in a distracted and
half-assed manner. There are no easy answers to this dilemma. My
solution was to write a novel which is at least in part about
half-assed parenting, walking the dog and DIY.
The Internet
This is the biggest distraction faced by the modern
novelist. The internet is an insistent, ever-present enticement which
comes out of the very box you are writing on. In the old days if you
wanted to play poker in order to escape the tyranny of the blank page
you had to put on your coat and go out. Now you just have to move your
index finger slightly. I could suggest you disconnect yourself from the
Internet while writing, but it's actually an incredibly useful tool for
digging out the sort of detail - a weather report from a specific date
six years ago, what a radio transcript looks like, a few lines from an
old jingle - you used to have to assemble over months and keep in a big
folder. It's really a question of whether the time saved outweighs the
time you spend watching a YouTube video of a monkey drinking its own
pee.
Everything Within Reach of Your Desk
When you don't want to write,
you will do anything to avoid it. If there is an old, broken cassette
nearby, you will unscrew it, repair it with tape and wind it back up
with a ball point pen. If there is a banjo to hand, you will teach
yourself to play it, in both the three-fingered bluegrass and
old-fashioned clawhammer styles. The only way to maintain focus is to
clear the immediate area of anything which you could be considered
mildly interesting, or, failing that, cover everything in several
layers of yellowing newspaper.
The Terrifying Enormity Of What You Are Trying To Do
Writing a
novel is, in my experience, a bit like swimming across a huge, dark
lake. Starting off is easy and finishing is both a relief and a
triumph, but there's a long stretch in the middle where you can't see
either shore and you're not even sure you're heading the right way.
This is the point where you may prefer banging your head against the
desk all morning to writing a single sentence. The best way to keep
swimming is to remind yourself that it's no good staying where you are
because it's 200 feet down, although I'm not sure the lake analogy
really extends that far. To be honest I'm finding it very difficult to
concentrate and tune this banjo at the same time. 
Tim Dowling is a writer for The Guardian. His first novel, The Giles Wareing Haters' Club, is published by Picador and is out now








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On Henry's comment:
If you only write the first chapter, you're right, nobody will want to read it. However, it's an entirely different proposition to read a novel, or a book.
I read somewhere that a famous author once said that the best novels were never written. He said this in the context of being told many plots wherever he went that people had access to him. As in: Mr. X, can I tell you about this plot I am thinking of for a novel?
99.9% of which were never committed to ink and paper.
Please keep going, or, maybe you'll be the first author of a book made out entirely of a collection of first chapters. Hey, that's not a bad idea!
Posted by: Ivan Velasquez | 04 January 2008 at 03:05 AM
Great article, so very true, certainly about the food bit. i have tried to write several times, and there is always something in the way to stop me. My biggest problem is after writing the first chapter, I stop and think that no one will want to read what i have written, so i stop! does anyone else have this problem, is it normal? or should i just stop all together?
Posted by: henry | 13 October 2007 at 06:31 PM
Great article. I especially find it true that rather than write, we will undertake tasks that are actually more tedious and grueling--similar to the phenomenon of desk workers putting more effort into avoiding work than would be required to simply do the work in the first place.
(And nice catch Jake, although I'd argue the nonstandard meaning of "enormousness" has been sufficiently established as the primary meaning of "enormity" through common use.)
Posted by: Leah | 03 September 2007 at 04:52 PM
Don't want to be a pedant but "enormity" means wicked or evil, not "enormous". The word you want is "enormousness".
Posted by: Jake | 03 September 2007 at 12:12 AM
Definitely Youtube can do your head in. It like a merri-go-round; you just get on and spin in circles for hours.
Posted by: Andrew Jebedee | 30 August 2007 at 12:24 PM