Black Hours diary no. 14 Ending the ending

For a second draft, this ending is feeling more like a third or fourth draft. Last night I finished the second draft of The Black Hours. I have spent more time on the final chapter (about three weeks) than I have on any other chapter, which makes little sense. I mean, why take so much time polishing a hub-cab when the rest of the car is on bricks?

But there is a reason, my friends…

David, over on Tomorrowville – spurred by Alis Hawkins over on her blog – has asked what is the hardest part of the novel to write. For me it’s always the ending. Endings are so underrated in fiction - I reckon - and for every great ending I can give you dozens of examples where the ending was just plain wrong. And it’s even worse for a book that screams greatness, because a great book with a bad ending doesn’t become a mediocre book, it becomes a crap book, “a cheat-book”, “a lazy-book where the author couldn’t be bothered to see out a proper conclusion”. I know that sounds harsh, but believe me, readers see it that way. After all, a reader is investing not just money, nor just the time, but emotional involvement. To be emotionally attached to a book and then be cheated is unforgivable – or rather, unforgiving for the author, as it’s likely the reader will not pick up another of the author’s books in a hurry.
Sure, the journey should be as interesting if not more so than the destination, but if the journey has taken you to the stars and the destination has ended in Stevenage, you’re going to be just a little disappointed.

For a series of books, the ending is more forgiving. Don’t get me wrong, there are still conventions – still certain rules to follow when ending the first or second books in a series - but you don’t have to tie everything up with a nice bow. You don’t have to fully satisfy the reader there and then. But later on the pitfall is you have to deliver on your promises; the ending to a series of books will need to be so much better than the ending to a stand-alone novel. Stephen King knows this better than anyone, re: The Dark Tower series. If there is ever a series of books where the ending has divided readership, King’s final book is the one.

But I’ve rudely interrupted myself. I was talking about The Black Hours, wasn’t I?

As I’ve already blogged, the ending to The Black Hours was always going to be tricky. By making a decision on the fate of a major character in the final chapters, I was forced to make the ending particularly positive to counter it (I’m trying not to give the ending away for obvious reasons, but it’s damned hard to explain the choices I’ve made without it!). Anyway, I decided to re-write the final chapter completely. It’s been transplanted from Holland to New York and it’s moved from being spectacular to poignant - a big leap in tone from the ending of the first draft, but one I think is more satisfying.
As a stand-alone book it doesn’t shout “sequel!”, which is also a big plus for me. What I don’t want to do is embark on another series while I still have one to complete (and there are at least two more Secret War books on the cards). What the final chapter does do is tie up most of the plot strands with a grubby piece of string that looks like it’s been hiding down the side of a garden shed for several years. It’s a grim ending. A grim yet rewarding one, a sentiment I hope other readers will share.

Next week I’ll be sending one of those readers a complete copy of the second draft to see if I’m hitting the right notes. I think I am. But I know it’s a way off being completed. Perhaps not three or four drafts away (I’m usually a six-draft kinda guy – a bit of a tinkerer), but I reckon the fourth will be the final re-write. Just in time for me to down-tools for fatherhood.

So what’s next?

My reward for finishing the second draft earlier than planned is a cessation in novel writing. I’m taking two and a bit months off before I commence with the 3rd draft, for festive and book launch reasons. But I’ll still be writing, let me make that clear now. I’ll still be writing, turning to the shorter form for entertainment. I’ve several short stories that require polishing and some that require writing from scratch.
And I tell ya, it while be a blessed relief to write something where the ending isn’t so damned difficult…

Have we lost something?

My handwriting is shit. Let’s just get that fact out of the way first. It’s shit, and it’s my own fault. I use the computer far too much these days for my handwriting to be anything other than a looping scrawl of incoherence.

This week a colleague and friend asked me to sign the first draft of A World of Night (a yet unpublished and unfinished children’s novel that I’ve been tinkering with since 2004). The draft was read by his daughter way back in 2005, and should the book find a publisher in the future, A World of Night will have a shared dedication to both his daughter, Charlie, and my god-daughter, Isabella. So it was nice to be asked to write a short note on the first page of the first draft that Chris has kept since 2005.
Nice, except that my handwriting is shit.
It took me all day to think of a good enough note and then to write it, careful not to make a mess and to ensure the note was legible.

On Chris and Charlie’s advice I’ve changed my signature. Not the signature I use to pay cheques etc (having an incoherent scrawl in this case is a blessing when it comes to fraudsters), but to autograph and sign books. It’s similar to my last signature so hopefully that won’t annoy collectors who have bought 1st editions of The Secret War; the new signature looks more like “MFW Curran” now rather than the “Mcflurry” signature of old.

But this doesn’t change the fact that my handwriting is still shit. It will take something more drastic to change that fact. That my handwriting is as bad as a doctor’s or a teacher’s is something I take for granted, after all I use a computer an awful lot. I even have a very portable computer that I take with me almost everywhere because my handwriting is that poor and because I can type a helluva lot quicker than I can write (and I don’t do short hand – it comes out less coherent than long-hand).
But I have wondered whether writing by keyboard is less effective than writing by pen or pencil. Clive Barker is one of those authors who still writes several drafts by hand, and while it takes him an age to get anything out, he says it ensures he picks every word deliberately and carefully.
I admit, when it comes to first drafts, my imagination spews words onto the page to be re-ordered later on. It means I cut and paste sentences sometimes, which is a lazy approach rather than sitting down and writing everything from scratch again during the second and third drafts.
In my defence, it works for me, and it does save time – and time is to a part-time writer, what oxygen is to a deep-sea diver. But it has made me wonder whether I’m missing a trick. We are an impatient society and sometimes writing is about being patient - not rushing it, but being precise, deliberate and careful. So I’ve wondered recently what would happen if I had good handwriting skills and wrote on a collection of trusty note-pads rather than a legion of laptops.
Does it really make a lot of difference writing a book by hand rather than by keyboard?