THE PROCESS OF WRITING.
Well, there's a lot of putting it off...you dream about your book in bus queues and in the supermarket, and imagine it looking gorgeously irresistible on shelves in every shop and  at night you work out what you're going to wear when Melvyn Bragg interviews you on TV...stuff like that.

When it does start to happen, it happens a bit like this: you get an idea. I have no idea where these come from. All I can say is: they pop up from time to time. So, for example, you think: wouldn't it be good to have a novel about a famous WAR told without any battles in it? From the point of view of the women and girls? That was one of the impulses that led to Troy. Or: wouldn't it be good to write ghost stories based on REAL locations in Manchester? That became a book called A Lane To The Land Of The Dead which is, alas, out of print.

Once you have had  the idea, you soon realize if it's a good one. It stays in your mind, for one thing. And also, other ideas sort of stick to it and you build up something...a bit like building up a mass of copper sulphate crystals on a hair into a lovely blue cluster. That's something I did in chemistry class at school, and
it's the best physical equivalent of what goes on in my head when I'm thinking of a story or a novel.

Then the day comes when you actually HAVE TO WRITE SOMETHING.  This is ghastly. But the first ten words are the worst. After that, you're into it, and enjoying telling the story and the nervousness about the empty page is gone. It's good doing this all on a computer/ word processor, as it's very easy to delete. Perhaps it's TOO easy. I think if I'm talking to young people, I'd tell them to write the
beginning on paper and transfer it...then you can do the rest on the machine.

I then work steadily every day. About two hours a day at most for actual WRITING. You don't want to overdo it! Then the next day you start by reading what you've written the day before and correcting it, and changing what you need to change (and there's always something!) and that kind of breaks the ice and gets you started.

ADVICE:
Do not tell your story to anyone before you've written it. You won't feel like writing it then.

Write as simply and directly as you can however CRAZY your subject matter is.

Pretend you're telling just one person a story.

Decide before you begin if your story is in the first person ( I did this or that) or the third person ( He/ She did this or that)

Give your heroine/ hero a problem to overcome...some kind of struggle.

Don't stuff your story too full of characters. If the text is short then not more than four, I'd say....less is more.

Don't be happy with your first words. Read your work over and see what can be improved. Something a LOT of published writers don't do is read their work aloud which is ABSOLUTELY VITAL. That's the only way you can pick up on  things like ugly repetitions, etc. Read everything aloud however silly you feel about doing it. You'll see where the flaws are then.

DO have a happy ending...there's nothing like a feelgood factor. And remember the old Hollywood advice: MAKE 'EM LAUGH, MAKE 'EM CRY, MAKE 'EM WAIT !!

All this advice is copyright to me, Adèle Geras, but I don't think anyone will want to pirate it!

AND NOW:
Here are some beginnings and endings for you to have fun with:

BEGINNINGS FIRST:
"It wasn't a dark and stormy  night, but he felt scared anyway."

"The noise was coming from behind the fridge."

"They're looking at me! They're all looking at me," X said.
"Rubbish," his mother answered. "How can they LOOK at you? They're
sunflowers for goodness' sake!"

The ice was pale blue on top, but underneath you could see there was nothing but darkness.

"You're never coming back here again...never." The door slammed in his face.

She crept past the living room door. If he caught her now, she'd be grounded for sure...

"Why do you always pick on me, hey? What's your problem?"

She saw him walking down the beach towards her  and made her mind up
 instantly. He was the one. The only one.

ENDINGS:
X finished speaking. One by one, everyone got up and walked away in
silence.

"You're mine!" he whispered. "And you're the best dog in the whole world."

The ship made white furrows on the dark ocean. There were no lights
showing anywhere as she slipped into the night.

"Is this it?" she laughed.
"This is it!"

And they lived completely miserably ever after. What did you expect?

There he was, still waiting on the corner. Still staring at me.