Page 120 of Head Room
“What about these sections where she’s written notes.Or sections with pieces of dialogue and little else?What’s that about?”
“Part of her process, clearly.”
“Her process was to write sections of dialogue where I had no idea who said what—?”
“Neither did she.Yet.They weren’t said by main characters, so she could wait to sort out who said what later.”
“Okay, but what about the sudden reference to Maggie writing a note that saved the soldiers — from what?When?”
“She didn’t know that yet, either.”
“But...but Irene was the writer.How could she not know?”
“Process,” she repeated.
“But what was in the note had to come earlier in the story, before the part where Maggie’s listening to them talk about her, the part that leads up to Ransom saying he’d marry her.”
“She’s writing out of order.”
“Out of order?How can—?”
She snorted.“Can tell you’re not a creative type.”
Perhaps with a hint of defensiveness, I said, “Hey, I’ve figured out a number of murders along with colleagues here.That’s creative.”After a beat, I acknowledged, “In its way.”
“Completely different.”Kit was not one to soften her opinion.But she did expand.“Solving murders involves following clues to learn the secrets behind what’s already happened.Writing a novel is making up what happens, with infinite choices.”
“I thought novelists outline.”
“Some do.”Didn’t sound like she was one.“They still have to make things up to create the outline, but your writer, Irene Jardos, wasn’t an outliner.”
“We didn’t find one, true, but maybe it burned in the fire, or—”
“Irene Jardos was writing her way into her book.That part about the note?Might’ve ended up in the finished book, maybe a major point.Or it could disappear.You don’t know until other pieces of the story gel.I imagine it’s like raising a kid.You don’t know what a child needs the moment it pops out.You have to get to know the individual kid.And before you get to know them, they have to become somebody.
“That’s why some of us don’t name characters right away.Count yourself lucky — you could be reading a manuscript with XX or YY or TT standing in for every character’s name.”
“Yikes.Is that what you do, Kit?”
She snorted a chuckle.“More often than not.A few characters come with their names, so to speak.A lot of them I have to go searching, accidentally or deliberately.”
“How does that work?”
“I’m looking for associations, sounds, rhythm to help convey the character.Egbert Ebelfingler’s going to be a completely different person from Todd Trent.Once in a while you might go for what a name means, but you don’t want to drive that into the ground.”
“And when the name’s accidental?”
“Same elements, but unconsciously.A name on the news or an overheard conversation or someone you remembered or — a thousand ways.”
Was that how Thomas came into Irene’s manuscript for Peter’s doomed brother?
“So, authors search for names after they know a character—”
“You’re not listening.Some do.Others have to have names pinned down before they can start, with a spectrum in between.Plus, sometimes the same author approaches different books different ways.”
I toggled a pen between two fingers.
“That would mean limitless combinations of possibilities.”
