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One of the most terrifying words in a beginning-writer’s vocabulary, and one that’s responsible for striking fear into many a learner-writer’s heart is… interview.

Interview is such an emotive word.

We all hate job interviews. School leavers are put through the wringer by mock interview sessions. How to sit. How to speak. Maintain eye contact. Ask the right questions. Know something about the company. Don’t fidget. Portray confidence. There are so many rules that it’s almost a science in it’s own right.

Going for an interview is horrible.

What is it that’s scary? I’ll place my money on the word itself. Interview.

Okay, so how about if we remove the word. Don’t interview people. But, I hear you say, if I don’t interview them how am I going to get them to talk to me?

Easy. Instead of interviewing them, you’re going to have a little chat with them.

I know a man who made a very good living as a salesman. He loved his job and was very successful. What was his secret? It could be summed up in one simple sentence that he used when describing his job: “I drive around, go and see people, and have a little chat with them.”

So, as a writer, instead of getting bogged down in the whole heavy interview syndrome, you ditch the word interview from your vocabulary completely. You don’t interview, you have little chats.

It makes the whole process so much more accessible and friendly.

Look at it this way, forget for a moment that you’re a writer who needs some information for a piece you’re trying to sell. Instead, you’re a private individual who simply needs to know more about a subject.

Supposing you’re writing a piece on the latest developments in the diagnosing and treatment of dyslexia.

If your child was dyslexic, where would you start to get her some help? Your doctor? Yes, you might start there. What about her school? That would also be a good starting place.

If you chose the school, you’d ring up the switchboard and ask who you needed to speak to. Then you’d contact that person, explain what you wanted and who you were, and ask for advice.

The thought of going in there and ‘interviewing’ the people who could help you wouldn’t even cross your mind.

You need some information and are asking for it. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?

Of course, as a writer working on an article you won’t pretend it’s your child who’s dyslexic, you’ll just say you’re “writing a piece on dyslexia and need to find out how schools deal with the problem. Can you have a chat with someone who knows?”

Believe me, it works.

For instance, I was once working on a piece and really needed to speak to the fiction editor at a major UK magazine. I really needed a direct quote from her for my article. No one else would do.

I was terrified. Me, a beginner, totally unknown, interview an editor at one of the top mags? My initial reaction was, ‘get real, why would she speak to me?’

I somehow imagined that she would bite my head off and give me a good lecture about how busy she was and how dared I disturb her with my petty requests? And that was even supposing I managed to get her attention in the first place.

But I needed her, so I tackled it this way: First I phoned the switchboard and said, “I’m writing an article and need to speak briefly to the fiction editor (I did mention her name but I’m not saying here). When would be the best time for me to phone to have a quick chat with her?” (I also said what the piece was about and why she was the only person who could help)

The receptionist was very pleasant. She told me which days the editor was in the office and suggested I phone back then.

So far so good. At least the receptionist hadn’t scolded me for being so presumptuous.

I phoned back on the suggested day, again frightened half out of my wits. But I kept the ‘chat’ idea firmly in mind.

In the end it took a few phone calls before I got to the lady herself. The first time she was busy, but I was encouraged to ring back. The second time she was on the other phone, but my number was taken and, amazingly to my novice mind, she actually phoned me!

Stunned that she’d bother, I quickly pulled myself together and explained who I was and what I was doing, and asked if she could spare a few minutes for a quick chat to give me her opinion on the topic.

She gave me roughly ten minutes (far longer than I hoped for) and was more than helpful. She offered information I hadn’t even thought to ask for, and was free with her opinions. The whole ‘chat’ was relaxed, friendly and informal, although I have to say professional and to the point.

One important thing to bear in mind when adopting this ‘chat’ route, is that it’s not like chatting with friends. You need to stick to the point, ask your questions, (yes, you do still need to know what information you want and how best to ask for it), listen carefully to the answer, then move on.

It was still nerve wracking, but the sting was taken out of the experience because I had previously convinced myself that all I wanted was a little talk with her. What did she think? Could she explain?

It was so easy, and she was so helpful, that I really kicked myself for being so scared about it.

Next time you need an ‘expert’, try it for yourself.

Forget interviewing. It’s a horrible, scary, thing. Instead just phone up and ask for a quick chat. It’s so much more friendly.

There are various ways in which the people who walk and talk in stories come to exist. Not all of the ways work all of the time, and sometimes the tried and trusted methods that we rely on can fail to produce the goods.

The characters we’re writing about sometimes don’t behave as we expect. It’s almost as if they have a life of their own and are trying to tell us that we’re forcing them in the wrong direction. That we are, in short, asking them to behave ‘out of character’.

When this happens it can completely throw a story out of balance and leave you wondering what on earth happened to your writing ability. Suddenly nothing is working. Carefully laid out plots keep on developing unforeseen twists and turns, and occasionally they stall completely for no apparent reason.

Very often the problem can be traced back to the character. There is probably nothing wrong with the character. He or she is a living, breathing, three dimensional character who readers will identify with and believe in. The trouble is, he/she’s not supposed to be in the present story.

Maybe the way you came by that character in the first place is more at fault than the character herself.

Basically there are two approaches to storytelling – the plot driven, and the character driven. (Don’t confuse this with story structure – that’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fish).

Plot Driven Story

In this type of story the plot, or storyline, depends on a carefully thought out sequence of events. Event A must happen in order to set up Event B, which in turn leaves the field wide open for Event C. Each event must contain its own clues and pointers (commonly called foreshadowing) towards what’s coming next, otherwise the reader either won’t follow the story, or won’t be in the right frame of mind to accept the story.

For instance, suppose Carl is going to murder his parents in chapter 3. In order for readers to accept this event as natural and inevitable, there has to be something in chapters one and two that will plant the suggestion in the reader’s mind that Carl is capable of such an act. It doesn’t have to be a big suggestion. It can be as subtle as you like, but it has to be there otherwise readers will close the book there and then and write it off as implausible, unbelievable or worse, badly written. In order for the plot to work, you need to create a potential murderer for your main character.

Carl has got to have some dark and dangerous corner to his mind that is going to snap in chapter three. If he doesn’t have this side, when chapter three comes along he’s going to look at you sideways, shake his head, and put the knife (or whatever) back in the kitchen drawer. Then he’s going to go out for a beer with his friends. You’re stuck with a partying lead player and a set of alive parents. Now what? It’s no good sending him back for another go, because he’ll do the same thing.

You have two choices. Admit Carl is not a murderer, and bring in Fred, who most definitely is. Or admit you (the writer and creator) don’t really want to write a murder story. Let’s assume you do want to write a murder story. Carl has to go. He’s too firmly real already (in your own mind) to make him be something he’s not. The only answer is to let him stand down for this one, and put someone else in the lead role.

Character driven story

In this story the sequence of events is determined by the character. In some ways it’s easier to approach a story from this angle because you allow the character to dictate the circumstances and what they do about them. Problems arise when the character isn’t someone you want to spend a lot of time with. As a writer, you are going to be spending a lot of time with your characters so they need to be people you can live with. Even the villains have to interest or intrigue you enough to make you want to get inside their heads and live beside them for a while.

So, if we go back to Carl, who won’t murder his parents, and you really want to get inside the mind of someone who can and does murder his parents, you’re not going to enjoy spending time with Carl. His story is a different kind of story, maybe a story about reconciliation where he will work through his differences with his family, or a story about separation where Carl will decide he needs to remove himself from his family. But you’re not going to be able to write a murder story with Carl, because that’s not who Carl is.

The differences between the two approaches to storytelling.

The first, plot driven, depends for its success on a carefully laid out sequence of events, carefully placed clues and pointers for the reader to pick up on, and carefully positioned characters who are going to behave within the prescribed set of circumstances you’ve created for them. You start with what’s going to happen in the story, and then create the characters who will act out those events.

The second, character driven, begins with the character: what they like and don’t like, what they fear, what they love, what drives them, where their passions lie. From understanding these basic character traits you build up a picture of the life of the character and from there you formulate the circumstances that are going to present them with the most critical conflicts.

There is no right or wrong way to do it. We each find our own preferred method of working and that becomes our ‘right way’. Largely it’s instinctive and requires no thought on our part. We just do what we do and rarely stop to analyse what’s happening in the story creation process.

But when a story goes wrong, when characters start ‘kicking off’ and leading you down alleys you never planned to explore, or when your murder mystery turns into a romantic suspense, it can help to realise that there is probably nothing wrong with either your story or your characters. The ingredients are fine. It’s just the way you’re mixing and baking them that’s not working.

If you’re having trouble with your current wip – take another look at the characters and think about how you approached the story in the first place.

Then spend a little time writing from the opposite approach. Allowing characters to act and speak for themselves can be a powerful way of finding out what’s stalling a story, or generating new ideas to get it going again.

Outlining an article or story using clusters (or mind mapping) is a great way of organising your thoughts, knowledge and ideas when you’re still in the planning stage.

The concept of clustering isn’t new but many writers struggle to understand how it can help. Hopefully by the end of this article you’ll have a better understanding of how and why clustering works, and have a go a building your own cluster when you’re planning your next article or story. For the rest of this article I’m just going to use the term ‘article’, but the concept does work equally as well for fiction or nonfiction.

For those who’re new to clustering, the basic idea is that you write your central idea or theme in the middle of a large sheet of paper and you draw a circle around it.

From the central idea you start to build more, related, ideas which all get written on the sheet, in their own circles, with straight connecting lines joining them to the centre circle.

Some of these secondary offshoots in the cluster will trigger their own ideas, in which case you write and circle those offshoot ideas with lines connecting them to the secondary idea that sparked them.

You continue in this manner until you’re out of ideas. One of the most important things to remember about clustering, however, is that all ideas that pop into your mind must be included. Even the remote, unconnected, random, silly-seeming ones because it’s these very ‘off the wall’ ideas that can sometimes give a fresh angle or a new, surprising perspective to a topic.

It’s these surprises which give a piece of writing that spark of originality, and as a writer that’s what you’re looking for. Writing that is yours alone. Writing that sets you apart. In short, writing that bears your own unique stamp.

Some writers prefer to make lists, but with lists your mind is forced to think in a linear fashion. Logic can get in the way of creativity.

When you’re clustering the page tends to look messy, with ideas scrawled all over the place and lines going this way and that joining them up. With idea generation, ‘messy’ is good because unexpected connections can be made between seemingly unconnected ideas.

With a linear list the temptation is to place the more important item at the top, even if it’s subconscious. With a cluster of ideas there is no ‘top’, so nothing has more importance until you decide it does.

How do you shape an article after clustering?

First read through your circled ideas. When you’ve got a good idea of everything you’ve noted down, start numbering them in order of importance or relevance to the piece you’re writing. Now is the time to start making linear lists, if they’re what you prefer to work from.

Note down all the points you want to cover in your article, then organise the points so that you have a logical progression through beginning, middle and end.

When you know the outline of your article, and how one idea is going to link to the next idea, it makes the actual writing so much easier. You no longer get stuck half way through because you’re not sure what to include next, you’ll never run out of ideas for your article before you’ve hit your word target, and you totally eliminate the temptation of meaningless padding when the word count seems miles away.

I prefer to make clusters with good old fashioned pen and paper, but if you prefer to use a computer there is some good clustering software out there, including Buzan’s iMindMap and Inspiration, as well as a free programme called Cayra.

Next time you’re planning a piece of writing, try clustering your ideas to get the outline. Since I took up the habit the planning stage has become a whole lot more enjoyable.

And as a bonus, I often find that ideas I can’t use for one article can generate a whole new cluster for a new article.

Following on from the previous article (Critique Objections 1 to 5), here are the next five objections many beginner writers make when receiving a critique of their story.

6. If I Take Your Advice It Won’t Be My Story

This is less of an objection and more of a concern.

Writers do sometimes worry that to make changes that someone else has suggested is to somehow be untrue to their own vision of the story. This is an issue that only the writer can decide on. If the changes suggested strengthen the story, make it more plausible, give it an added twist or enrich it in some other way, then maybe it would be a good change to make.

Any change that completely alters either the direction or message behind the story probably isn’t a good idea (unless you want to write a whole new story), but small changes that will enhance the existing story won’t turn it into either someone else’s story or a new one.

7. But That’s How It Happened In Real Life

This also relates to objection number 3. When you’re writing fiction, you’ve got to think in fiction. Real life rarely translates well into fiction, especially when you’re writing about incidents that really happened.

The reason is because fiction is a world in a bubble; time is contracted, speech is edited for content, events are manipulated into a particular sequence and nothing outside the story is referred to.

In real life we have a million and one things going on at the same time and focus is scattered. In fiction the focus is on just one thing, one problem. Lots of little things might impinge on the bigger problem, but generally the story exists to solve just one problem.

So bear in mind when you’re bringing real-life events into fiction that you may need to alter them just a bit to make them fit the demands of the story, the demands of the market, or even maybe the demands of society.

By all means draw on life experience. Use emotions you’ve felt, use circumstances you’ve found yourself in, use drama you’ve experienced – they’re all vital ingredients to writing compelling fiction, but be wary of relating events just as they happened, and if you really must use actual events, make sure they are a vital part of the story you’re telling.

8. I Write Like I Speak

Just about everyone uses verbal short cuts and incorrect grammar when they speak. We all have little quirks; we may say things like ‘lek’ for the past tense of ‘leak’, and ‘led’ for the past tense of ‘lie’. Or it may be that we write things like ‘allot’ when we mean ‘a lot’.

For a writer the danger lies in not knowing you’re saying it incorrectly. This applies particularly to writers who live in regions where a strong dialect is spoken, or to those who’ve never paid close attention to grammar lessons or studied it through their own interest.

The argument ‘I write the way I speak’ doesn’t hold up unless you’re deliberately writing in dialect or regional slang.

By all means speak however you like. The verbal quirks we use are what makes us individual and what makes life so interesting and funny sometimes. And yes, let your characters use them too because it breathes life and depth into a character to let them be natural to their background and personality type. But in the narrative, try to get it right.

9. My Publisher Will Correct MyGrammar/Punctuation/Spelling

No, actually, they won’t, they’ll just reject your work and move on to the next hopeful who took the time to get it right. If you know this is weak spot for you, then take advice from someone who can help you and do the work needed to make your manuscript as error free as you can.

10. That’s My Best Bit – I Can’t Take That Out

Have you heard the phrase ‘murder your darlings’?

It’s arguably one of the hardest lessons a writer has to learn, but we all have to learn it. You know which darlings I’m talking about. They’re the lines, descriptions, phrases, sayings, passages, scenes, that you absolutely love and can’t bear to think of losing.

But they’re also the ones that don’t fit in with your story, that slow the action, that weaken the dialogue or muddy the otherwise clear characterisation.

It feels like murder to delete them, but they’ve got to go for the sake of the greater value of the story.

Save them if you must, but get them out of the story when you know they don’t fit properly. Put them in a different file with the title ‘murdered darlings’ and see if you can use them elsewhere. In fact I challenge you to try. It can be a good exercise to find the story they do fit into.