I am always delighted when a wonderful author and friend, Ian Thomson, visits PBHQ. Today, Ian is sharing the rocky road on his journey to writing his latest book, Humphrey Abroad.
Why
are we waiting?
I
am being asked this quite a lot of late. Why is my current work in progress
taking so long? This is a novel called Humphrey Abroad, and it’s a prequel to
Humphrey & Jack, which some readers think is my best. (My favourites are
probably Martin and Northern Flames, just for the record.)
Humphrey reappeared
in a short story called Humphrey and the Squirrel which I wrote during the
pandemic and issued for free. This was well-received too and so I thought I
would visit Humphrey and his friends again, and take him out of his comfort
zone, that is out of his parochial world, and to a post-retirement excursion
abroad.
So why is it taking so long, say
importunate voices, the most impatient of which is my sister’s. After
all, last year I published three books, a novel, a satire, and a biography. Am
I suffering from ‘writer’s block’ perchance? Not per se, I don’t think.
I know that this is a serious question
for some writers, but I don’t honestly suffer from it. If I feel I
might be getting stuck, there are three ways I get out of it.
Give
it a break - a couple of days perhaps - to let things gestate. It’s remarkable
how the answer to a vexing problem is just there when you wake up one morning,
or as you lie in the bath. The brain carries on trying to make sense of the
world, even when you’re not aware of it.
Do
something else: read; review; catch upon correspondence; research; write a
short story.
Just
write. You might just have to junk the first few paragraphs, but eventually the
cogs will mesh and the screen is filling up again.
‘A couple of days
perhaps’? Who am I kidding? Over the summer ‘a couple of weeks’ of fallow time
would be more like it, where precious little time was spent on the book.
Part of the reason for this has to do
with writing a prequel. First, in plotting the structure, I have needed to be
aware that some of my readers will have read Humphrey & Jack – and
some of them won’t. In the first case, I don’t want to repeat what they already
know, though there will be some reminders. In the second case, They will not
know information about some of the characters that is essential to the plot and
texture of the novels. I want each book to stand alone, but I want them to
complement each other for the reader who wants to read both – in either order.
Next, since Humphrey is in
French-speaking Belgium and in France itself in the central section of the
book, and since he has conversations with the natives, there is a problem with
dialogue. Obviously, these interactions can’t be recorded in
French: I can’t assume my readers will be able to follow. Moreover, my French,
though not bad, is probably not accurate, colloquial and idiomatically nuanced
enough for the task. As Humphrey himself observes, the principal difficulties
for non-native speakers are using the telephone, and jokes.
However, it would be clumsy to keep
saying: ‘He
said in French’ or ‘She said in French’ or ‘The conversation continued in
French’ or ‘Humphrey reverted to English’. I think I’ve got round this on a
case by case basis, and it’s surprising how much weight context will bear. You
will have to choose whether or not I’ve got it right.
Then there is the genre and its tone
and register. Humphrey travels to a number of cities in Western Europe, but I
am writing a novel, not a travelogue, and I need to be mindful of that.
But in a way, these are excuses. It’s true
that I have done a lot of reading this summer, and I’ve been to France twice. I
suppose I could put that down to research, although I don’t think Humphrey is
going to visit any of the places I did.
It is true that I have been suffering
for three months now with folliculitis barbae, a maddening affliction where the
beard area itches so badly that takes a great deal of will power not to take a
Brillo pad to one’s face. It was certainly not an incentive to writing.
However, I am back at work, and making
excellent headway. I resolved the problem with a cunning plan: I wrote a number
of chapters out of synch, each in a different city, in Tournai, in Brussels, at
the Gare du Nord, on a train to Rouen, and reading a notice in a hotel in
Rheims. The process is like stations on a journey, points on a graph, stars in
a constellation. Now, I am joining up the dots, and creating the narrative arc.
The drive to turn the random stars into a scorpion or a swan is compulsive.
The third section of the novel
(Home/Abroad/Home Again) contains a scene in a supermarket, which came to me in
a dream complete. No joke. I forced myself to get up at three in the morning to
write it down before it evaporated. It involves Humphrey absent-mindedly going
home with the contents of someone else’s trolley.
When will it be finished? I don’t know.
I can only assure you that the gang’s all here: Humphrey, the Evangelists,
Secondhand Sue, Flake, Mrs Bellingham and Aristotle the cat – and introducing
Aurélie, Dubious Donald, and Belgian Frank.
Shall we say some time in 2025?
As
always, a huge thank you for stopping by, please call back again soon. Until
next time, take care of yourself and each other and I hope the sun is shining
in your heart and on your face.
Hugs
Pauline x
