Readers often don’t know this, but writers sometimes know exactly how a story is going to go – and sometimes you write something on day one that surprises you and the whole story is going in a direction you’re not expecting.
My decision to make a western was to have the Clint Eastwood anti-hero, but mix him with Dirty Harry. On the first night of NaNoWriMo (this is my first year doing it, but anything that encourages you to write a novel in a month is a good thing), I sat down to write my novel. I’d already written an outline (very brief – I’m not a major outliner), and written short captions for story scenes. I’d loaded all those in prior to NaNo, then during the day I’d written about 600 words.
I began typing it in, and suddenly my outline is going out the window. Josiah Bratton is not Clint Eastwood. If you’ve spent a couple of days reading through my writing blog, you should know that the Man With No Name is actually Joe Monco. His nickname is Blondie, of course.
I did take a page out of real history – US Marshals tended to have more than one pistol on them in 1860-1885, because pistols (more commonly known as Revolvers in those days) were hard to shoot. There was a high number of pistols available that were still black powder/shot-percussion cap style. Odds were good that outlaws would have exactly that. You either found a spot to reload where you couldn’t be shot at, or you died. And it took a minute or two.
Around 1870, Smith and Wesson introduced the .44 cartridge. I knew Josiah would have bought one immediately, so there’s a Model Three in the novel. I leave it to your imagination for right now if it’s a Schofield, a Russian, or a Model Three-2. Maybe in book two I’ll deal with that, once I’ve shot all three and decided.
And of course, you’ve got to have the Colt Navy cartridge conversion, .44 caliber. I mean, it’s Clint Eastwood (well, I planned it that way). And the Colt Cattleman .45’s. Clint Carried both in the three Spaghetti Westerns. That was all the planning I’d done on Josiah. Terse speech, notices everything, and smokes a pipe instead of a cigar. Dresses more like Lee Van Clief than Clint Eastwood. That was my plans.
All my plans were right out the window once I wrote the first night, expanding my 600 words to 1775 words. See, I was over count on my first night of NaNo. Yes, indeed. I wrote two scenes, the first shoot out in act 1 and the US Marshal’s office in Santa Fe. I had to write a scene where I make it clear Josiah does not drink. One of those little quirks in his character – the toughest guy in the West refuses to drink. So I had to load up reasons for why he wouldn’t drink.
I was aware by the time I finished that I’d started an exceptional book. I’m not a western type by any means, despite my dad watching a lot of John Wayne movies. I was more focused on Clint Eastwood, and became of course quite a fan, even sitting through the Giant Tarantula movie to find he was only in the ending.
But once I’d written the scene with the hint of Josiah’s past I was hooked. The entire book has changed focus slightly. Oh, he’s still the baddest gun in the West – not good for your health to mess with Josiah Bratton AT ALL. Ducking behind a wall to shoot at him won’t help you in the slightest, when that wall’s not there any more.
And this was the most restrained I’d ever been when introducing backstory. I gave you a hint and stopped. Just like with Abigail’s story. I gave you a hint of her backstory, and stopped. If you’re interested, well –
– you’re gonna have to read the book.
This happens to writers sometimes. We plan, we know the character going in, we think our way through the story (I still can’t quite see parts of it, because it’s changed now). But the story writes itself. You’re suddenly aware the story has changed drastically.
And now I’m writing the book to see what happens.
I guess we’re going to find out together.
