On the Twelfth Day of Christmas My True Love Sent to Me...

...Twelve Drummers Drumming! I imagine the sound as urgent and climactic, rallying the listener (and in this case the reader) onwards. Drums, whether at a gig or on the field of battle, are there to energise and inspire, setting the pace for a song or a march, and pace is something extraordinarily important when you are writing fiction.
Whereas tension is linked to suspense and has to do with the facts of your narrative - discovering who  murderer is, or whether true love will win through - pace has more to do with the way in which you relate these facts.
Uniformity is the enemy of pace. There should be variety within the structure of your novel. This applies from the macro to the micro: try and make sure that your chapters, your paragraphs, your sentences, and even your individual phrases are of different lengths so that your work doesn't become predictable. If you are writing about something dramatic, keep things short; if you are in more laid-back mood you can afford to meander (but not too much). Just keeping an eye on this simple technicality will have an enormous impact on the readability of your story.
Another way of manipulating the pace of a piece of fiction is through contrast. Just as you should go slow, slow, quick, quick, slow or long, long, short, short, long in structural terms, it's important to contrast the types of scene you are writing. If you have ratcheted up the emotion during a particular sequence of your book, give your reader a break and introduce something lighter. Think Hamlet and the gravedigger scene.
Pace has elements of texture and tension and contrast within it. It's what gives your writing dynamism. It's an essential ingredient in any good book and you should always be conscious of it when you are at work.

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas My True Love Sent to Me...

...Eleven Pipers Piping, an apt reminder that when you are writing fiction your prose will have a music all of its own. We are born with an innate sense of rhythm and the more you write the more you will develop a feel for the words you use. You will become conscious of the power of syllables and stresses, how to combine words of different length so that they don't just sound right, they look good on the page. You will see that the same applies to phrases then sentences and even paragraphs: that infinite variety doesn't just put a spring in your writing, it helps to build tension as well. Your awareness of the percussive quality of words will grow, so that you will instinctively use soft sibilants in the gentler passages of your work and harsher consonants in upbeat sections. As you master these concrete aspects of writing, you will gain in confidence and start introducing imagery into your work – a bit like the melody in a piece of music. Working like this at a more abstract or symbolic level is what helps to fire your reader's imagination.

As you can see, it's tempting to think of writing as orchestration, but the idea comes with a major health warning: if you become too conscious of the music in your voice, it will lose its magic. Your writing will become mannered and strained and too self-aware, an act of narcissism rather than creativity. To avoid this try and think technically rather than aesthetically, be objective not subjective, so that your stern editor's eye will stop your work from becoming self-indulgent.

On the Tenth Day of Christmas My True Love Sent to Me...

...Ten Lords a-Leaping. Lucky old me!
Over Christmas I went to see the Bristol Old Vic's anarchic and inventive production of Peter Pan. Rather than have conventional flying, Peter, Wendy and the Lost Boys used bungee ropes to convey the magic of their flight to Neverland, which was set in a graffiti-strewn urban back alley, with plenty of lords a leaping, tumbling and skirmishing.

There was none of the sentimentality of JM Barrie's original, but Tristram Sturrock's wild eyed, athletic Peter was mesmerising. The reason I'm talking about it in a creative writing blog is that it demonstrates the power and potential of revisiting an established idea and turning it on its head. I went with my nephews, Gabriel (nine) and Louis (six) - hello boys - and they were as open-mouthed with wonder as I was at this old story turned into something new and bold and original. Don't be afraid to take risks with your work, to be subversive, and remember that originality doesn't necessarily mean coming up with something no one else has thought of, but can be most potent when you re-examine something familiar with a fresh eye. That's often what takes the breath away.

As a little postscript, my great-grandfather was an actor called Arthur Whitby and he played the Rev George Amy in the original production of Mary Rose, also by JM Barrie.  Arthur asked Barrie if he would go and see my grandmother in a play as she was just beginning her career in the theatre. Here is the great man's reply.

He says, "Yes I shall go in and see your girl one night. And be very interested to see a child of yours. I didn't know that Mr Amy had any family but I have just now enlarged the vicarage and plumbed in a charming bathroom. You might suggest this in your performance. (I believe you could do it)."

All Barried out now - see you next week!

On the Eighth Day of Christmas My True Love Sent to Me...

...Eight Maids A-Milking... that's to say, eight young women doing something typical of their daily lives. When you're writing fiction and about to introduce your hero or heroine, it's important to show them in action. There are two reasons for this: firstly, it will make the picture you paint of them more vital and alive. You should avoid at all costs the cliche of having a character contemplating their reflection in a mirror, or a shop window, or wherever - it's been done to death and will reveal little of them other than their basic appearance. Far better to show them in dynamic mode, having a blazing row, or an achingly solitary drink, or walking away from someone that they love. Immediately you have parachuted your reader into the middle of a situation which, if you are skilful enough in developing it, will fire up their curiosity to know more.
As well as showing your main character in an engagingly vibrant fashion, it is also helpful if they are doing something which is typical of them: you want to encapsulate the ordinary world they inhabit in a way that contrasts with, yet at the same time anticipates (nobody said it was easy) the drama of the story which is about to unfold. In terms of maids a-milking, think Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy's novel opens with the local parson telling Tess's hopeless old father that he has discovered the family is descended from a noble line, information which sets in train a series of events leading to Tess's encounter with Alec D'Urberville, who turns out to be her nemesis. Tess herself is first seen at the Mayday dance, dressed all in white to symbolise her purity, though she is the only girl wearing a red ribbon, anticipating the bloodshed that comes later in the story. In the opening scenes, Hardy provides us with a lens through which to view the story as a whole.

On the Fourth Day of Christmas My True Love Sent to Me...

.......Four calling birds. Aha! You might think they were calling birds, that's certainly what I've always sung, but it only takes a little light fact checking to discover that in the earliest version of the song they are actually four colly birds, which through its association with collier and coal means blackbird.

The creative writing moral for today is to do with accuracy. You should always check your facts when you are working on a story. If your narrative is set during a period when people would have spoken of colly birds, that's the term you should use. If it's set when they would have said calling, go for that. Try to avoid anachronisms as they will break the spell that you've been busy weaving. Your readers will forgive a little bit of poetic licence, but inaccuracy is unpardonable: it suggests laziness, and if someone is investing their precious time to read your book, you should pay them the respect of ensuring it is error free.

On the Third Day of Christmas My True Love Sent to Me...

......Three French hens. Now it turns out that the French hens in question are actually Faverolles, a heavy breed of utility fowl which originated in north central France in the 1860s and are characterised by their beards and muffs. They are excellent layers and good meat chickens, but because of their docile natures are prone to being bullied. Thank you Wikipedia. 

Here's a picture of one that I took -  in north-central France!

I'm telling you all of this to explain a little bit about the role that research plays in writing fiction. What I've done in the paragraph above is to overwhelm you with facts, but facts are heavy and dense and can weigh a narrative down when you actually want it to take flight. Facts can be interesting in themselves, but rarely contribute to the alchemy of good fiction. They need to be buried in the foundations of your story, underpinning of the architecture, but they shouldn't intrude too much. In creative writing terms, if I were writing about three French hens, the most interesting detail from the trove of information I've uncovered is about their docility, which is something I would be able to show in my story, rather than telling as I would a straight fact.

The hard-core information should stay privy to you, it provides the tinder to set your imagination alight. The occasional evocative detail is something you can share with your reader, but don't tell them everything, never do that, always keep them guessing, wanting to know more.

On the Second Day of Christmas My True Love Sent to Me...

......Two turtle doves who, because they mate for life, symbolise undying love – one of the great themes of fiction. Almost every major novel has a love story at the heart of it (though if you can think of ones which don't, email me because I'd like to know!)
It is a truth universally acknowledged that the course of true love does not, and in the case of fiction, should not, run smoothly. In the world of the novel love should be unrequited, thwarted, unacknowledged or forsworn. Happily ever after isn't the subject of a good book, although it may be its conclusion. The basic plot of a love story has been summed up as boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy wins girl back and although it is up to you as a writer to make this simple trajectory your own, you need to centre your story on the process through which your protagonist realises they are in love and that securing the affections of the loved one is worth any sacrifice. The element of questing which is crucial to a romance dates back to the mediaeval age of chivalry and in that sense it's a tried and tested formula.
So, if you have time on your hands during the holiday period (hah!) try sketching out a story that follows the basic principle boy meets girl etc while appearing not to. Make the story individual and distinctively your own, break any rules you like, but stick to the basic path of loving, losing, redeeming.
Think turtle doves...