Thicker Than Water — читать онлайн бесплатно полностью

I discovered a long time ago how easy it is to throw yourself out of the working mood - the zone, whatever you want to call it - and how hard it is sometimes to find it again. But then I realised something else, which is that the times when you’re not working are probably necessary, too: part of the process. I don’t worry so much about taking breaks now, because I know I’ll pay that time back sooner rather than later.

How extensively do you plot your novels before you start writing them? Do you plot the entire trilogy/series before you start writing or do you prefer to let the story roam where it will?

The first two Castor novels were plotted in obsessive detail.

The third I left a bit looser, and it changed more as I was writing it. I prefer on the whole to work with a detailed plan for the reasons I mentioned above. The plan is very useful as an anchor, and paradoxically it frees you up to change your mind because you’ve got a clear idea in your head of how a change here will feed through to what happens way over there.

Is this a strategy that has served you well in your comics writing?

It came out of the comics writing, to a large extent. I had the good fortune to work over many years with Shelly Bond at DC’s Vertigo imprint. Shelly is one of the best editors I’ve ever met, and she insists on very explicit scene breakdowns. At first I found that a bit of a bind, but I soon realised that when you’ve only got twenty-two pages to tell your story, you’ve more or less got to become a miser, counting out story beats one at a time from a grubby burlap bag that you hide under your mattress.

I still tend to do those breakdowns, even when I’m working with editors who don’t specifically ask for them. Again, you don’t let them become strait-jackets: you launch from them and come back to them, again and again.

Some authors talk of their characters ‘surprising’ them by their actions; is this something that has happened to you?

You know, every time I hear someone say that, it sounds like a boast to me.

Like, ‘my process is really, really organic; my characters are so vivid, they get up off the page and jam with me. Sometimes we go to wild parties together’. I guess it’s just a question of what you mean by that, though. It’s possible to get to a certain point in your story and suddenly think ‘yeah, but he wouldn’t do that, he’d do this’. And it can feel surprising.