Curated by Charlotte Maddox, Wilbur & Niso Smith Foundation

At the heart of every great story there is a careful balance of essential elements that work together to captivate readers. In this two-part Mini Masterclass series, five authors shortlisted for the Wilbur Smith Adventure Writing Prize explore the core components that make a book truly unforgettable.

In this first instalment on the fundamental aspects of writing, we have C. E. McGill discussing the art of crafting an engaging plot that will grip readers from the first page to the last; Leo Vardiashvili talking all things setting, illustrating how to create vivid environments that enhance a story; and Francesca de Tores sharing her wisdom on developing a distinctive and authentic narrative voice that will add layers to a character and bring a story to life.

Whether you’re an aspiring writer or a seasoned storyteller, we hope you will find these practical tips and personal insights helpful in refining your craft.

C.E. McGill: Plot

For me, the two most important elements that make up an engaging plot are character and pacing. The first one, I realise, might be controversial — I know a lot of writers tend to outline plot-first — but for my part, I have to understand who my characters are before I can begin to predict what they’ll do. My initial idea for the plot of Our Hideous Progeny (‘What if I smashed together Frankenstein and Victorian paleontology?’) was thin as paper until Mary arrived. Once I’d fleshed her out, her ambitions and fears and strengths and flaws, the plot was largely a matter of winding her up and watching her go.

As for pacing, I laboured for a long time under the impression that a ‘well-paced’ story must mean one that moves very quickly; no downtime, all action! Now, I find it far more helpful to think in terms of efficiency rather than speed. The first thing I do when revising a completed draft is go through scene by scene and write down what purpose said scene actually serves — what it tells the audience, and why they need to know.

I maintain a general rule that every scene ought to do at least two things at once; no one wants to watch a single plate spinning. If I can say: “Here, the reader learns A (which explains why Mary needs to do B) and is reminded of X (which foreshadows Y),” then that’s a healthy scene. If it only accomplishes one of those things, or I’ve already foreshadowed ‘Y’ three times this chapter, or it’s simply a big chunk of lush atmospheric description or historical detail which bears little relevance to the actual plot (my own worst habit), then either it gets cut or combined with another scene.

I find that this technique really helps break down why certain portions of a story, even if they’re seemingly full of action and adventure, might drag. If your protagonist spends a chapter chasing down bandits on horseback, but we don’t really gain any new insights into their character or the world or why the bandits matter, readers will get bored. I learned this the hard way while tackling a section towards the end of Our Hideous Progeny, in which Mary and her compatriots race across the country in pursuit of the book’s central villain.

In my outline, this part was nicknamed ‘The Chase’; I wanted it to be an adventure, fraught with tension and obstacles as the characters dashed from city to city. I was stunned, then, when my editor told me that it dragged; how could it… so much happened! However, after I broke these chapters down, I realised that this was precisely the problem: the countless obstacles didn’t really reveal anything new, I was just reiterating how cunning the villain was and that Mary was determined to catch him. I ended up cutting out a whole city (heartbreaking, as I’d spent so long staring at maps of Victorian Glasgow!), but the final  product was much stronger for it.

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Leo Vardiashvili: Setting

The wonder of literature is that it can take us on an adventure anywhere, in any time-period, in any setting, whether real or fantastical. I think it’s the closest we’ll ever get to magic. Some writers can make their world feel like you could take a walk in it, touch the grass and have a decent idea of what the place smells like. The effect seems effortless. But this is misleading. We only ever get to see the finished, polished product. We never see the preceding bad drafts, the research, the multitudes of images and details lovingly crafted… and then cut.

My novel (Hard By A Great Forest) is set in Georgia, and I had a lot of work to do to bring it to life. Here’s what I learned:

1. Have a plan. No matter how skeletal. It will give you a rough list of the locations you’ll be visiting. For me, the first location was Tbilisi, Georgia. My (skeletal) plan told me the district of Sololaki – a uniquely bizarre, ancient district – would be crucial. I’ll use Sololaki as an example from here on in.
2. Research and notes. A simple Google search will give you thousands of pictures/videos of most locations. I scrolled through hundreds of pictures and videos of Sololaki, hunting for interesting details, no matter how mundane, and saved the ones I liked.

It’s not enough to just peruse pictures hoping for inspiration – note down the details that caught your eye. For me, that turned into a Word document called ‘Random Sololaki details’ – a bullet point list of interesting Sololaki images.

Here’s a verbatim example: Building corner – the façade/plaster has fallen off. Huge cracks in the walls. How is this building still standing?

3. Use your notes. As I drafted the scenes set in Sololaki, I always had my ‘Random Sololaki details’ document open. The incidental details I’d noted down became ready-made images that I could slot into my draft.

 

As the adventure took my characters to a new location, I repeated the process. Research, take notes, repeat and, where possible, I visited the location for details that pictures/videos can’t convey. But you can get pretty far with Google and a dash of imagination!

Why? Making the setting believable allows me to take my characters on adventures which may have been less believable, if it wasn’t for the grounded, realistic setting.

When it comes to making a setting come alive, it’s the small details that do the heavy lifting, not long sweeping descriptions.  Small details and your characters. I had my characters come in contact with the setting. I tried to involve all the senses. Instead of only using descriptions, where possible I made my characters physically interact with Sololaki, comment on the smells, sights and sounds.

I edited and re-edited and polished until it felt like I could take a walk in Sololaki, run my fingers along the walls, sit on the pavement and smell the hint of wood-smoke from two streets over…

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Francesca de Tores: Narrative Voice

When I think of novels I’ve adored, it’s almost always the narrative voice that has hooked me: Merricat in Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived In The Castle; Thomas in Sebastian Barry’s Days Without End; the omniscient and unmistakable narrator of Marlon James’ The Book Of Night Women.

How to create a compelling, original narrative voice in our own writing? I’ve often found it’s a case of letting the strangeness in. The narrator of my novel Saltblood, the real 18^th century pirate Mary Read, led a life that was daring and unique, so her narrative voice had to reflect this .Mary’s voice came to life for me when I let it be bold. She lived under various names, as both a man and as woman, and she addresses the reader directly: As for my true name? Go ask the sea. The adventure in a novel should lie not only in its plot but also in its language, so consider allowing your narrative voice to take risks.

Given the historical context of Saltblood, I couldn’t convincingly evoke Mary’s voice without first immersing myself in the vocabulary, phrasing and customs of her time. Reading as much as I could from the period (trial transcripts; newspapers; first-hand accounts of sailors and pirates) was indispensable. But all voices are shaped by their time and place and even if you’re writing contemporary fiction, research will still help you. Transcribe a conversation you overhear on the bus or explore your story’s location (Google Maps is a great resource, if travel isn’t possible), so that it can inform the narrative voice.

The best narrative voices are those that you would recognise anywhere, just as you would recognise your best friend’s voice on the phone. Each voice is distinctive: not only in vocabulary, but also tone, attitude, and tendencies. Saltblood’s Mary Read was a sailor and pirate, so it’s natural the metaphors she turns to automatically are nautical. She moved between genders, so her language, too, is sometimes fluid. A useful exercise is to use your chosen narrative voice to describe a scene completely separate from your story. If the voice is sufficiently distinctive and well-established, you’ll be able to feel how they would respond to any scenario.

It’s also worth asking yourself whether you’ve chosen the most interesting narrative perspective, rather than the obvious one. Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones is narrated by a dead teenager; Emma Donoghue’s Room, by a five-year-old boy. Is there an unexpected perspective that could illuminate your story? Try writing a paragraph in the voice of three different characters, to see if one comes to life more than others.

Finally, as with almost every aspect of writing, the best advice for establishing a distinctive narrative voice is to read widely, so that you can see exactly how bold and extraordinary the narrative voice can be. Reading the work of other authors isn’t only inspiration, it’s also a way of granting yourself permission: I’m allowed to do that!

Thank you to Charlie, Leo and Francesca for their hugely helpful writing tips. Stay tuned for our second instalment, where we will dive into more of the crucial aspects of good writing.

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Charlie McGill: C.E. McGill was born in Scotland and raised in North Carolina, and are a recent graduate of NC State University. Their short fiction has appeared in Fantasy Magazine and Strange Constellations, and they are a two-time finalist for the Dell Magazines Award for Undergraduate Excellence in Science Fiction And Fantasy Writing. They now live back in Scotland. Our Hideous Progeny is their debut novel.

Leo Vardiashvili: Leo Vardiashvili came to London with his family as a refugee from Georgia when he was twelve years old. He studied English Literature at Queen Mary University of London. Hard By A Great Forest is his first novel.

Francesca de Tores: Francesca de Tores is a novelist, poet and academic. She is the author of four previous novels, published in more than 20 languages. In addition to a collection of poems, her poetry is widely published in journals and anthologies. Saltblood is her first historical novel. She grew up in Lutruwita/Tasmania and, after fifteen years in England, is now living in Naarm/Melbourne.

Charlie, Leo and Francesca are shortlisted for The Wilbur Smith Adventure Writing Prize, Best Published Novel award. Find out more here.

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You can hear great new ideas, creative work and writing tips on Write On! Audio. Find us on all major podcast platforms, including Apple and Google Podcasts and Spotify. Type Pen to Print into your browser and look for our logo, or find us on Podcasters.Spotify.com.

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