tim relf

When you’re writing a book or trying to find a publisher, the advice most people give you - to keep trying - can seem a bit glib. So here are some hopefully practical tips:

• Plan your story ahead - you can always deviate from the plan.
• Write little and often (ideally every day).
• Never throw anything away - it's amazing how often you end up recycling stuff.
• When you approach publishers or agents, think about it from their perspective - what's in it for them (ie financially)?
• Ignore what people say about only approaching one at a time. You can waste months like that.
• Have an idea for a second novel up your sleeve, even if it's only a draft synopsis. You don't want them to think you're a one-trick pony.

Good luck. It's a lonely occupation - but try and stay positive and take heart from any encouraging feedback you get. It's a fantastic feeling when you finally see your book on the shelves - well worth all the hard graft!

Here are two articles I had published which will hopefully help you make it into print:

This piece, which appeared under the headline ‘Turning Your Dream into a Reality’, was first published in The Northern Echo

Chances are, someone you know wants to do it. It might be a friend, a neighbour, a relative. It might well be yourself.

We’re a nation of would-be writers, with millions of us dreaming of penning a novel. Sadly, though, for most people, it stays just that: a dream.

A lot of us have got the ideas, the main problem is that there’s never the time to get it down on paper. Life sort of gets in the way, doesn’t it. There’s work, the family, the day-to-day chores. And there’s no two ways about it, writing a book takes time. A lot of time.

It took me 10 years to finish my first novel. Ten frustrating years of snatching odd, disorganised moments in which to write - a half hour before going to work, an hour late at night, odd minutes on the train between Durham and Newcastle.

My second book took under two years. It wasn’t that it was any shorter or, I hope, any worse or, indeed, that life stopped getting in the way (it never will), simply that I didn’t repeat my mistakes.

The main lesson I learnt was the importance of important of a regular routine. I had huge gaps during those 10 years of my first novel, Stag, when I didn’t pick up a pen. It sat ignored in a box in the loft for three years at one point. (When I lived in Darlington, I also spent more time in The Turk’s Head that I should have done!)

Now, when I’m working on a novel, I’ll get up at 5.30am every day and spend an hour at my desk. The “little and often” approach means it’s easy to build a momentum and it stays fresh in your mind.

Even if you only write for 20 minutes at the same time every day, that’s fine. That 20 minutes then becomes part of your routine, and it’s amazing how much you can do in a short space of time.

Do whatever suits you - but stick to your routine. Short of a major natural disaster, don’t let yourself break it. Otherwise, you’ll come up with a million and one reasons not to sit down at your desk. It’s like revising for exams or doing a tax return - suddenly the most mundane, the most unappealing, of jobs can become urgent.

Perhaps the hardest thing about writing a book is starting it. It can seem so intimidating. Remember, though, it gets easier - not just because you’ll get better, but because the amount you’ve done compared to the amount you’ve got left to do increases. Every word you get down is one word nearer writing those magic two words, The End.

The secret is to break it down into small manageable chunks. Set yourself targets. Try and come up with your ideas and pen a synopsis by, say, the end of the summer. Could you have your first chapter done by October? The first three - even if in rough draft - by Christmas?

Planning is the other vital ingredient. Writing fiction is like building a house - get the foundations right and it makes the rest easier. Early planning is the foundations of your book. Don’t look upon it as time wasted; see it as time saved.

For my first book, I wrote in characters, scenes and even whole chapters that were subsequently cut. I wasted weeks, months. Years, probably, if I’m honest. I didn’t do that again with my second book, Home.

Initially, all you need to do is map out what happens to who and when. Try compiling a set of random notes - you can refine these at a later stage into the right order, ideally on a chapter-by-chapter basis.

It’s also helpful to have brief biographies of your main characters. These are like a CV, they don’t need to be a full life history, but should contain the main facts such as what people’s names are, how old they are, what they look like, and what their career is.

Forget the notion that planning will stifle creativity. It’s the rough directions for a journey, that’s all. If you want to change your route when you’re actually travelling, fine.

Don’t feel obliged to work in chapter-by-chapter order, either. Skip around. Write a scene from later in the book or revise a chapter you did last month - just as long as you keep going. Once you’ve got something down on paper, you can always edit it.

Ask people their views, too. You’ll probably feel comfortable asking a close friend or relative, but at the same time what you most need is honest, objective opinions. (A word of warning here: if they tell you it’s great, you probably won’t believe them; if they tell you it’s rubbish, relations can become seriously strained.)

You could always join a writers circle. Good ones give you feedback, encouragement and discipline, bad ones simply provide an opportunity for people to talk about what they’re going to do, rather than shutting themselves away on their own and actually doing it.

So, take a deep breath. You can do it, you know you can. It’ll be a long, uphill struggle, but it’ll be worth it. It’s the best feeling in the world when it’s going well and, who knows, maybe one day you’ll get it published.

This piece was published in the ‘How I Write’ slot in Time Out:

I write early. Think milkman. Think postman. Think shift work.

Forget those images of writers burning the midnight oil, slaving away under a table lamp into the small hours, my most productive time is between 5.30 and 8.30am.
It's quiet and I can concentrate, and it's the only time of day my head's fresh and uncluttered.

Just as well, too. Like most writers, I've got a day job and it's this that pays the mortgage.

I've never wanted to write for more than three hours a day. It's amazing how much you can do in a short space of time when the writing's going well (which, of course, it doesn't always do).

Something strange happens during the night, too. Sometimes you can wake up and the problem you were grappling with the previous morning will be solved: the solution will be there, neatly packaged and credible and within your grasp.

I've tried writing past 8.30am, but only start slowing down and by about 10 o'clock I'll have ground to a complete halt. I guess it's what economists call 'the law of marginal diminishing returns'. What it means for me is that if I tried to write fiction full time, I'd end up watching a lot of daytime TV.

Plus, having a 'normal' job - insomuch as journalism can be considered normal - gets me out the flat and makes me meet people - something that a lot of writers don't do enough of. It's not just important for your sanity; it's good for ideas, too.

The flip side of getting up so early is that I'm exhausted by 9pm. I like early nights and rarely go out in the week. I must be London's most antisocial person. I've fallen asleep at dinner parties before.

I like a routine, but people tell me I'm obsessive about this. I have to have a shower before I start writing. I can't work without shoes on. I have to - and this is the stupidest - have certain drinks in a certain order when I'm at my desk: tea, Coke (Diet) and then coffee.

Deep down, I know (I think) such things don't make any difference. But I've done them for so long now that I don't want to alter them because if I do, I'll be thinking about why I changed them or whether, in fact, they might have any effect or how stupid I am to even consider that they might - rather than simply getting on with the job in hand.

Initially, I write long hand. Something about the pen and paper helps me see what I'm writing. I'm part of the generation that, while having used computers all their adult life, grew up without them. It still feels more natural to write long hand.

The disadvantage of this is that my handwriting is atrocious, so I end up binning whole pages of work simply because I can't decipher it: it might as well be Sanskrit.

I rarely think about my fiction during the day. It must be bubbling away subconsciously, though, because sometimes ideas pop up unexpectedly.
I'll be sitting on the tube and think - without meaning to - of the line of dialogue I'd been struggling to come up with that morning. I'll be on a bus and realise how one of my characters should respond to a particular situation. I'll be in the car and suddenly twig about what direction a particular storyline should take. You have to try and remember this when the writing's going badly.

Right now, though, it's not going well or badly. I'm at that awkward stage of waiting and wondering what comes next. I'm itching to start my third novel, but haven't had the right idea yet. I don't want to wait too long, but I don't want to rush it, either.

Maybe an idea will come to me while I'm asleep tonight. Speaking of which, it's 9.15pm. Bedtime.