The Writing of
Midwinter Folk
Inspired by such authors as Joan Aitken, Rumer Godden and Tove Jannson, I felt I was ready to realise my long held ambition to write a children’s novel. I’d written numerous short stories, after all, and moving on to a novel would simply be a matter of progression, wouldn’t it?
If you can write five thousand words, then surely you can write fifty thousand? Yet when it came to the writing I found these two prose genres functioned in very different ways. In short stories the narrative is designed to deliver an impact in as few pages as possible. The author must include only the most essential information in terms of character, atmosphere and setting – and everything drives towards the climax. Novels work differently; they must be conceived as many parts which construct a unified whole and this is what I discovered when I set out to write my own novel, Midwinter Folk.
The initial idea for Midwinter Folk was straightforward, inspired in part by H C Andersen’s
The Snow Queen - a young girl, to save her brother from evil, must in fact save the world.
I had a clear vision. However the next step proved immensely challenging. How did I take the multiplicity of narratives, characters and events that were spinning themselves out in my head and shape them into a coherent pattern?
Like many first time novelists I began by simply writing – launching myself into the story. After several thousand words I realised that I needed some kind of plan. It wasn’t a question of not knowing where the story was going. I had a clear idea of the destination, but I began to appreciate the need for structure, control and plotting. I saw that my initial foray had explored character, discovered back story, established setting. What I wasn’t doing was thinking about the best way to present the action and the events of the story.
Midwinter Folk is a fantasy adventure and as such it relies very much on events. Event stories follow a classic pattern: ‘order/disorder/re-established order’ - in short there is something wrong with the world and the story is about how order is restored.
In Midwinter Folk disorder is initially expressed in two main ways, by
a) the setting (London has been hit by a terrible blizzard, the environment seems out of balance) and
b) the disruption in Rowan’s family (her brother Luke has changed, become hostile and she desperately misses her absent father, Finn) The story begins when Rowan becomes involved in the effort to heal the world’s disorder and will end when she either succeeds or fails.
Suddenly, embarking on a Creative Writing degree, I had the space and time to explore my narrative and it felt daunting, even disorientating. Where should I begin? How could I weave all the threads together? How did I sustain interest when the climax was so far away? Obviously a novel has to maintain tension, but unlike a short story this can’t be done in one ‘take’. My short stories had been composed almost instinctively. I had let the majority of the ‘working out’ take place at an unconscious level. But novels need to be broken down into steps. Each section must contain a mini narrative arc, eg a climax, or a release of tension or a moving forward of the plot. Yet at the same time each step must point towards the overall climax. Moreover there is the question of seeding – placing clues and signs within the early chapters that will be of significance later on in the narrative.
Keeping this in mind I prepared a rough plan or synopsis. I then re-wrote this on a chapter by chapter basis, focusing on how tension, climax and important information would be built in at each stage. I also began to develop the back story for each character and considered different aspects of their personality, everything from their favourite food to their fundamental flaws. Having done so much groundwork I felt better prepared to start the actual writing. I think one of my major concerns was that all this preparation might somehow kill the creative urge; that alchemy of the subconscious process. Therefore the one rule I made was ‘let things change’. Although I knew that I needed to get from A to B, I allowed for the possibility of many different paths. An example of this is the way the opening paragraphs have changed several times because the balance between building tension and establishing setting was simply not right.
Another important consideration was the central position of Rowan within the story. I wanted to tell the story through Rowan’s eyes, primarily because it heightened the sense of threat as Rowan attempts to make sense of a disordered world. If we step out of this POV, and see the wider picture, then events are explained and could potentially lose their menace. I also wanted the child reader to be able to identify strongly with Rowan. However I did not choose to write in the first person because, however compelling, I felt the idea of the ‘voice’ too restricting.
Some early attempts at this were abandoned.
In third person one is able to use free direct thought which allows the writer to catch the style and tone of the protagonist and enables the reader to share the character’s interiority; what they see, think, hear and feel. Yet in third person one can also opt for a more detached stance. It meant that, in Midwinter Folk, I could select a more sophisticated style and vocabulary when necessary. I still found the ‘voice’ and ‘tone’ one of the most challenging aspects of writing this novel because although I wanted to avoid the sentimental or idealised I found myself drawn to a certain level of ‘innocence’. I am aiming at a readership of ten plus and however strongly one rejects the notion of cultural constructs of childhood and self-censorship, there are categories of content and language that cannot be deemed appropriate.
I felt that a strong characterisation was essential. I wanted to make Rowan emotionally and psychologically complex because the reader spends so much time ‘inside Rowan’s head’.
Part of the narrative force involves Rowan’s character development. She grows in stature throughout the story, overcoming her natural timidity and attaining maturity. When the story opens Rowan feels insignificant and disempowered. She desperately wants to change things, wants to protect Luke and her family from danger and this means facing her fears.
Step by step, over the course of the novel, she rises to the challenge.
Embarking on Midwinter Folk has been an illuminating experience. It has shown me that the novel makes very specific demands on the writer in terms of preparation, construction, planning and of course a great deal of editing and re-writing. One needs to be aware of genre conventions (eg fantasy adventure/children’s literature) and how these affect the shape of both story and character. It is, manifestly, a long, challenging but highly rewarding experience.
