HOW NOT TO CONSTRUCT A NOVEL

It's almost a year since I started writing about Charlie Churchill, ugly duckling in a dysfunctional scatty family of beautiful females. At that time the book was called THE SITTING TENANT. Here's my blog from last October:

"Charlie's a carer in an old people's home where Dingo, 89, a diabetic who's lost both legs and has failing eyesight, becomes her closest friend. When he dies Charlie discovers he's bequeathed her his entire estate: an enormous dog (Irish Wolfhound), an enormous sum of money and an enormous house with an embittered sitting tenant, a former soldier in Afghanistan who's also a double amputee.

After writing 6000 words I  decided it wasn't going anywhere.

So .... Keep the family - they're funny and colourful and I could have a lot of fun with them. Keep Mum's on-off toy boy, Ricky Capaldi, keep Arsehole Alan. Keep Dingo, even though he dies in Chapter 2. Keep the dog. Keep the sitting tenant but give him back one of his legs (another double amputee is too much of a coincidence).

4000 words later it still doesn't work.

So .... Keep the family. Dump the dog. Dump the tenant. Dump the house. Keep the money. Introduce a sexy lawyer. Introduce a writing class with a creepy would-be crime writer. Change the title from THE SITTING TENANT to THE WRITING CLASS.

7000 words on, where am I going? Who knows? Nobody said writing was easy, but it's fun!"
Since then, the only constant has been Charlie herself.
The writing class has vanished, the title is now ME, DINGO AND SIBELIUS, and Charlie has now bought the home for the elderly. Oh, and the sexy lawyer is still hovering. Sibelius? No, that's not the Irish Wolfhound.
At last I think I'm on the right track, plenty of conflict and colourful characters and I'm past the 40,000 words mark.
All these changes have added months to my writing schedule and I've ignored all the sensible rules of plotting and planning, but it's still the greatest fun I know!

WHEN TO BREAK THE RULES OF WRITING

SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO USE A MIRROR!

Most of us writers try to avoid the use of a mirror in describing a character's appearance. Too hackneyed, the sign of a poor writer, unimaginative, we're told. In fact, it's almost a rule.

But occasionally, as in my current book (working title: ME, DINGO AND SIBELIUS) it seems like the best, most effective way.

Charlie, the main character, is the 'ugly duckling' in a family of beautiful females. Now 32, she's the only one who resembles her beloved Dad, who drowned when she was 16 and whom she still grieves for.

In describing her as she glares at her reflection in the hall mirror, I'm therefore describing two people, Charlie and her father. As the book is written in the first person, I'm also trying to convey her frustration and despair that she is the odd one out, the one who's ignored, the one who's still a virgin.

Here's the relevant section:

In the hall mirror I glare at my reflection in disgust. No one else in the family has inherited Dad's genes. The hair, uncontrollable without half a pot of gel and half an hour of blow drying. The snub nose and wide mouth. The golden brown eyes that practically disappear when I smile. The lack of height.

Georgie and Rosie have blue eyes and slender figures like Mum. They also have Mum's long golden locks, like Rapunzel in the fairy stories It's too soon to tell with Daisy, only ten weeks old and still bald as a coot. At the moment she looks like Harry Hill without the spectacles but no doubt she'll metamorphose into something blonde, slim and elegant like the rest of the Churchill clan.

I turn away from the mirror. What's the use? I'm stuck with what I am. The ugly duckling. The runt of the litter. The one that's nearly but not quite.

I'm always conscious of potential criticism but sometimes it just feels right to ignore the rules.