What We're Writing--Debs Practices the Jump Start

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Every time I finish a chapter, or a chunk of chapters, I have to regroup. I wouldn't exactly call it "writer's block," more a "take a deep breath and regroup." I think there is always a bit of resistance to plunging into an imaginary world, maybe because it can be so scarily absorbing once you've dipped a toe in.

So here I am, plugging away on Kincaid/James #20, with all my writing prompts and boosters; the cup of tea, the journals, the pens, a couple of British home magazines for setting inspiration, but still, the dreaded BLANK PAGE stares back at me!

So what to do??

This is where the jump start comes in. I talk to myself (not out loud, although sometimes I do wander around the house muttering when I'm working out a really thorny plot point...) or maybe I should say I talk to the book. Maybe you could call this self-brainstorming? 

Sometimes I do this with some messy journaling in the running notebook I keep for the book-in-progress, but this technique actually works better on the computer. I'm a pretty fast touch typist and this lets me toss things out as fast as I can think them. Because I'm normally such a persnickety writer, this seems to  help bypass my constant mental editor--and that is hugely liberating.

It might go like this:

--Okay, so where's Gemma? Has she checked in with Duncan and the kids? Did she ever get a sandwich? Maybe she stops at Pret again--she's going to turn into a Pret sandwich at this rate. Will she go home or does she have time to visit the crime scene again before dark?

--Must get back to Melody? Her vp?

--Hawkins waiting for Max's return from mortuary, very nervous, has only done FLO in training course.

--Duncan, home, speaks to Kit about the phone call.

--Quill leaves Karo at the flat, he will drop her bike on the island, she can get train home later. Sets up pub meeting where?

All of these little snippets would go on in much greater detail. Before I know it, the characters start talking, bits of dialogue are creeping in, and suddenly I have the blocking for a chapter's worth of scenes, in some sort of logical order, and I've broken the blank page curse.

Here's a non-spoiler-y bit of the scene where Gemma does get her sandwich, jumping in as she's in the car with her new detective sergeant, Davey Butler, on the way back to her new police station.

Gemma nodded. “We can only hope.” She glanced at the time on the car display. “People should be getting home from work soon. When we get back to station, get a door-to-door started in those flats overlooking the canal. And let’s have a word with the residents in the end of that estate in Aberdeen Place, and with the staff of the pub that overlooks the access to the canal. What was it called?”

“Crocker’s Folly,” I think.

Gemma gave a snort. “That must have a story.”

“I think they have Indian food,” Butler said, his expression dreamy.

“Oh, don’t torture me.” Looking out, Gemma saw that they were passing the Savoy. She made a quick decision. “Let me out, will you, before you put the car in the garage. I’m going to grab a sandwich before I come up. Want me to pick you up something?”

“I had a bite in the London’s canteen. Not bad. Nigerian food today.”

“You’re a brave soul,” she said, raising an eyebrow at his pre-postmortem fortitude. Maybe he hadn’t been joking about the crime scene burger and chips.

A few minutes later, Gemma snagged the last cheddar and pickle sandwich from the cold case at Pret a Manger. She ate it slowly at one of café’s tables, then sat, nursing a cup of tea and taking a moment to marshal her thoughts.

When she’d jotted some notes, she tossed sandwich box and paper cup into the bin and stepped out into the street. Patches of blue had appeared in the early evening sky, and to the west, sunlight glinted from the rooftops of the National Portrait Gallery. Across the street, people were starting to gather outside the Chandos pub for afterwork drinks, a signal to Gemma that her opportunities for that day’s actions were fast fading—and that she’d better make certain the home fires were still burning.

I'd love to know if my fellow writers suffer from Blank Page Syndrome, and if so, do you use jump-starting techniques to loosen up?

Readers, do you have any little tricks to get going on projects that can seem daunting?