A couple of months back I announced I was working on a second book to my novel ‘The Things you find in Rockpools’. It’s been my most successful story to date, and features an 11-year old kid named Billy who uses his ingenuity to outsmart adults and gets everything a bit wrong, but still manages to muddle through. Then I sat down to write, and breezed through the first 60,000 words. This is a doddle, I thought to myself, in the overconfident manner of someone heading for a fall.

Then I read what I’d written, just to make sure it I was on the right track.

Opps.

It wasn’t awful, but it was missing… Something. I couldn’t figure out what. So I gave it to my mum, and my brother, hoping they might dismiss my concerns. But they both said the same. It wasn’t awful, but perhaps it needed a bit more of this…, a bit less of that… So I read it again, and went for lots of long thinking hobbles (normally it would be walks, but I’ve got a bad knee). And banged my head against the manuscript. And finally dragged out the books on story structure I like to read these days. And finally realised something incredibly obvious.

In my enthusiasm to write a great new story for my favourite character, I’d forgotten to actually give him one. A story I mean. Lots happens in the ‘first’ draft (first of very many at this rate), but there’s no overriding purpose to it. There’s no flippin’ story!

I’d written 60,000 words but not one of them said what Billy wanted, nor what he needed.

So I’m back to the drawing board, feeling suitably chastised, and trying to summon up the energy to begin again, from the proper place this time. What does Billy want? What does he need?

And I’m pretty sure I know this time. Billy want’s a boat. The one below would do it. But it’s not what he needs…

🙂