Time to set the record straight on another frequently asked question. Namely, where I get my ideas for books, plays, films and so on.

I’ve very rarely got only one project on the go. Even now, my current work-in-progress You Can Hear Chopin from the Attic shares weeks with plans for the latest season of my podcast. Say nothing of the multiple ideas in the early planning stages. Or those that just occupy tiny compartments in my mind waiting to be put down on paper. Telling friends and family about this and they wonder how a person has one story idea. Much less several. “Where do you get your ideas for books?” they’ve asked me. Well, here are some of the answers.

Keeping up with the news

As a journalist, we’re taught to be interested in a variety of subjects, and then become an expert on those subjects. Back then, I focused my attentions on food, travel and entertainments, as those were my key interests. And much as I never became an accomplished news writer (apart from my days at HQB News and BeInCrypto, maybe), training as a news journalist helped me expand those interests. For one thing, I now keep a keen eye on crime-related stories – both the investigations and the legal proceedings following them. And every so often, I’ll discover something that I think would make a decent novel, play, series or film. There are two ideas, one local to me in Bournemouth, the other of more national significance (relating to the Holocaust), that I’ve got in the bank for plays in the future.

Channelling what you know and love

The age-old bit of advice: “write what you know”. Not necessarily the best or most interesting course, as I’ve said previously. But even as I’m writing You Can Hear Chopin, which, apart from reinforcing my interest in World War II, draws on my experiences working in the hotel industry, I find myself thinking of other stories that could also be set in a hotel. Obviously, I don’t want to make everything I write set in a hotel. So I end up thinking of what stories could follow a struggling novelist? A disgraced restaurant critic? A journalist who’s down on their luck? Experiences and interactions — these inspire better stories than thoughts, feelings and emotions. I’d reserve a poem to channel mental health issues, anger, and so on.

As for channelling what you love, that revisits my earlier point about what you’re interested in. If you’re mad about cryptocurrency, there’s plenty going on in that sphere to inspire a work of fiction. It doesn’t even have to be current. I have a long-seated love for a series of comedy films whose stars had their fair share of drama and comedy in their personal lives. That’s an idea for a multi-season TV show right there.

Playing with hypotheticals

I always advise people to pay attention to what’s going on around them when looking for ideas for books. Play the spy for an afternoon. Eavesdrop on the odd conversation, or just sit in a public place and people-watch. There are nuggets of inspiration everywhere. Usually, that is. If you find life’s on a bit of a monotone, take the time to think about a situation and ask “What if…?”

I’d recommend starting with yourself. “What if that person I knew 20 years ago suddenly reappeared in my life?” You have a character there already, and from that, you can develop the idea. The conflict, the setting, the events, and so on. There are several people in my life that I wouldn’t mind reuniting with after ages. One or two, I’d rather avoid, but in a fictional setting, it might still be fun to explore. “What if I encountered someone I went to school with who was convicted of manslaughter in his teens?” It’d be quite scary in real life, of course. But as an idea, it could make for quite a compelling thriller.

Ideas for books in family history

Family history has come up in previous posts as being catalysts for stories. In my opinion, it’s fascinating to know what our ancestors got up to. After all, they’ve made series upon series of Who Do You Think You Are? out of it! Taking a family legend as the core of a story is all you may need. Personally, I have a branch of my family in the smuggling world from the early 1800s. The key facts are now part of the public record, but the conversations that went on behind closed doors… the scenes that developed in between… that’s where the story lies.

Taking note of dreams

Science tells us we only remember a small percentage of our dreams. But that small percentage could just be enough. The end of a dream inspired You Can Hear Chopin, after all. However, there’s a clock on even that tiny portion of subconscious surrealism. So if it’s good enough, for God’s sake, write it down.

It can start with a name

Sometimes the ideas for books, series or whatever… they come after I’ve found a name for a main character. Or even the title itself. Titles and endings are two things I absolutely hate coming up with. But when I have a title at the ready and no story to attach it to… that’s a different kind of frustrating. There’s still a fair few character names in my bank that are just waiting to be given a place somewhere. But it actually reverse-engineers the process. I ask myself what story, what characters, what events can belong to this title? The possibilities can, in theory, be endless. In the past, I’ve mind-mapped anything that I think will fit, and then chosen the one I think would be the most interesting, compelling, or that just makes the most sense.

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As the weary first draft battle continues on, I’ve already learnt a few things about my new book that I’ll need to address when I’m finished…

Retrospect is a cruel thing. And overthinking is even crueller. They’re both my bedfellows at the moment. Especially when it comes to this new book, You Can Hear Chopin from the Attic. As I mentioned in previous posts, including my latest update, writing my new World War II thriller has been a labour of love. At one point I considered starting the whole thing from scratch, despite reaching the 100,000-word mark.

The key takeaway with any first draft is to just get it down on paper. Don’t look to please your beta readers or whoever you turn to for feedback. It’s highly unlikely they’re going to say it’s perfect. Your characters will be inconsistent, and your plots will have holes in them. However, it’s good to be mindful of these possible issues. Here are five from my own work-in-progress.

1. We may be following the wrong protagonist

I took you through my main characters in my new book more than once, so I won’t do it again. Least of all because the hierarchy might shift in the re-drafting process!

The main storyline in You Can Hear Chopin concerns Heinrich Oeunhausen, the owner of the hotel where most of the action takes place, and his wife Sofie. As a schizophrenia sufferer, Sofie would be considered ‘unworthy of life’, or words to that effect, under the Nazi regime. And so, to protect her, Heinrich conceals her existence from all but a few close allies, yet hides her in plain sight in his own hotel. He exploits the trust of his family friend Standartenführer Upfauer to keep the hotel’s Nazi clientele from throwing their weight around. In essence, keeping Sofie relatively safe.

However, the emotional and developmental journey I’m taking Heinrich on might not be that interesting or thrilling when told through his eyes. Like my other books, there’s more than one point-of-view character in You Can Hear Chopin. Heinrich and the other major protagonist Cordelia Knesebeck make up the bulk of them. But the one character that observes their actions and decisions the most is the concierge, Alois. A character I happen to enjoy writing a great deal. Not least because he serves as an outlet to satirise even present-day attitudes towards hospitality workers. He says and thinks all the things I would have loved to have said to customers in my hotel days! I have half a mind to rework the story and tell it all through Alois’ eyes, which will (hopefully) add more suspense and mystery. Undecided yet, but there’s a good chance I’ll give it a go.

2. This new book is too long

Can imagine looks of horror and astonishment when I say the plan for this new book is, currently, 73 pages long. That includes all the notes I made during my research, links to relevant articles and so on; a list of dishes that could potentially make up menus for the hotel, plus whatever cocktails and other drinks were available; extensive character bios, and, most notably, an in-depth treatment for plot and character for each of the 110 chapters.

Yes, you read that correctly. 110.

BUT!

I have already decided that what I considered the final quarter of the novel can be cut. Not necessarily forever. It would comprise a courtroom drama, prison turmoil for certain characters, and missing crucial evidence with a ticking clock to find it. Arguably the most thrilling part of the book. But it’d take place two years after the main action. Half the major characters wouldn’t be involved. In my opinion, it would serve just as well as a potential sequel.

3. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

As we don’t change settings all that much in the course of the story, I often find myself repeating phrases and words. Even some that, when I first used them, seemed quite fresh and clever. There’ll be three questions I’ll ask myself when I do my editing and redrafting in these cases. A) Can I shift the action elsewhere, to a different setting? B) Can I touch on another storyline in between and break this up? Or C) Can some of these scenes in the same setting be condensed down into one?

Plus, I keep a trusty list of unusual or uncommon words in my phone that’s proven useful in the past. We’ll turn to that again in due course.

4. Some characters need more attention

I came into this new book with a very clear idea of which characters are major and which are minor. But over the course of writing, some have proven much nicer to write than others. And indeed others just haven’t featured as much in the story as they should. It’ll be one of the first things I make a note of in my re-drafting process. Where could we pick these characters’ threads up earlier or more often?

5. Some characters seem familiar

This one actually came from a follower off the back of another post. A truly invaluable bit of feedback. It was pointed out that the character of Heinrich seemed to bear similarities to another character from one of my other books! Namely, George Whitlocke, butler to Lady Vyrrington in Lust & Liberty and Sin & Secrecy. And while I can’t confirm or deny whether or not it’s correct yet, it definitely had me wondering. How many of my other You Can Hear Chopin characters have the same voices and personalities as the Berylford cast? Is Standartenführer Upfauer a National Socialist analogue for Abel Stirkwhistle? Could Mrs Urmstone have been reincarnated in Cordelia Knesebeck by accident?

I like to think I’ve created enough of a disparity between them. But at the same time, on paper, maybe there are dangerous similarities! It’s something I never thought to look at before. A cracking piece of feedback, and sincerest thanks go to that follower.

Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think. And if you want to know more about my new book, leave a comment or follow my Facebook and Instagram pages. And read further posts out more about this novel.