Writer Unboxed

So there I was, wrestling with a scene from the WIP. There’s been a lot of that recently, not to speak of cursing, fidgeting and running off to make cups of tea. It’s got worse since my new editor decided the two books under contract should be delivered in the reverse order, meaning I had to down tools for the current project and get a whole new one written by the same delivery date.

Anyway, there I was a moment later, suddenly in the groove and writing away, and before I knew it a great scene had appeared on the page before me, a scene in which a character interferes with a juggling display by lobbing extraneous items into the mix with mischievous intent, all the while juggling brilliantly himself … I was thrilled with the scene, which had pretty much written itself. But halfway through the celebratory cup of tea, something began gnawing away quietly in my brain. I had read something very like this scene before.

You know those absolutely favourite books, the ones whose covers get more and more dog-eared and tatty as time passes? My family owns a well-traveled, much shared paperback copy of The Crow Road by Iain Banks. It’s done the Perth to London trip several times by various routes, picked fruit on a kibbutz, gone trekking in Nepal, worked in a cardboard box factory and been read in the bath. The book is now so battered, wrinkled and mildewed that we can’t possibly pension it off and buy a new one – no replacement could match this copy for sheer strength of character. When a book is as well loved as this, perhaps it makes its way into some special part of the reader’s memory.

There are many great scenes in The Crow Road, but none of them involves juggling. The nature of my juggling scene led me to a different part of my ‘best-loved books’ shelf. I suspected the culprit was The Lymond Chronicles by Scottish novelist Dorothy Dunnett, a six-book series which I’ve read and re-read many times. I leafed through Queen’s Play and found it on page 83: a short scene in which the anti-hero, in the guise of an Irish bard/entertainer, interferes with a juggling display by lobbing extraneous items … Rats! My scene was indeed based on her scene, and it had to go.

Confession: this is actually the third time I’ve caught myself about to steal an idea from Dorothy Dunnett. It must be at least fifteen years since I last read the Lymond series – long before writing novels became my bread and butter. Clearly, these books have stamped themselves indelibly on my psyche. Few other historical novelists evoke such vivid settings or create such brilliant set-pieces as Dunnett’s. More than anything, I’m an admirer of the understated, elliptical style she used for scenes of high drama or intense feeling. She was quite a stylist and I’m not the only writer to owe her an immense debt. As well as providing me and countless other readers with hours of entrancing entertainment, she demonstrated that historical novelists can be both first class storytellers and consummate practitioners of their craft.

I rewrote my juggling scene and it’s still good, but different. I’m glad I caught it. It was a salutary lesson – books we have known and loved are never really gone from our memories, and may sneak back to haunt us any time they choose.

Postscript: For anyone who likes historical fiction and has not yet sampled Dorothy Dunnett’s work, you should start with The Game of Kings, first book in The Lymond Chronicles. Although the books work as stand alone novels, there is also a compelling, continuous storyline through the entire series.

Photo credit: © Galina Barskaya
Agency: Dreamstime.com

Juliet Marillier has published more than a dozen novels for adults and young adults. Her works of detailed historical fantasy have been published around the world, and have won numerous awards. Her latest release, Seer of Sevenwaters, is the fifth book in her popular Sevenwaters series but can be read as a stand-alone novel.

Juliet Marillier

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