It doesn’t have a working title yet. I simply think of it as ‘that air crash book’.
Much of the early work has been done:
Getting the original idea. I asked family for suggestions for further writing. A few suggestions came back. One stood out, and immediately resonated with me. The challenge was to write a compelling tale based on a wartime airplane crash on the moors near to where I was born. I shifted the writing away from that real crash to a similar, but fictitious, one. That was the jumping off point for my thinking, as I sat on buses and trains, leading to disconnected sets of possibilities.
Sketching a beginning. I wrote out a set of potential opening sentences: There was the screech of metal as the plane failed, in thick fog, to clear the rocky outcrop on the top of the moor. Wreckage was spread across the bracken. It was told from the first-person point of view (to give it an immediacy), by a young woman who had been in the body of the plane and thrown out as the doorway twisted open. ‘I went to check the pilot. He was clearly dead’. And then the introduction of a mystery. ‘I can’t be found here. That’s simply not possible. There’s nothing I can do for the pilot. My leg is broken. I crawl as best I can deep into a thicket of bracken and wait to die ….’
Was that it? If so, it was going to be a very short book. I sketched out what was likely to happen next: A local farmer had seen the plane come down and goes to check on the crash; the police are sent for; things get set in motion to investigate, as with any air crash; there will be a coroner’s report on the dead pilot, and some attempt made to contact any next-of-kin relatives. It still felt like a cul-de-sac – not really going anywhere.
At the time of starting the book it was an unusually dry summer, leading to large moorland fires having to be dealt with. This triggered an idea that the body of the young woman, long dead, could be uncovered by firefighters dealing with these major fires 80 years after the plane crash.
Settling on the approach and the narrator. It was initially going to be a linear tale told by a young woman who is somehow, mysteriously, involved in the plane crash, As things reshaped themselves in my mind, it turned into an account of a group of people applying to be staff at a new centre for information analysts, told by one of the participants.
The story next pivoted to be centred on a two-day group training exercise for people being recruited as information analysts. As such, it is set out in the form of a Training Pack: Welcome; Day 1 exercises; Summary of ideas from Day 1; Introduction to Day 2; Day 2 Exercises; Summary of outcomes from the two days. The subject material for participants to work on could be in the form of separate documents that related to a World War 2 US Air Force plane crash in fog over moors in the North of England. A mystery emerges as the evidence gets progressively revealed during the training exercise. Day 2 information comes in the form of reports relating to the body of a young woman being discovered close to the crash site, but more than 80 years later, by fire service people dealing with a moorland brush fire. She seems to be both somehow connected with the crash yet can’t be. She appears to have no relatives, and no recorded connection with any part of the Air Force.
The documents could simply be presented as a collection of reports with no additional commentary ie there being no narrator. Ideally the text material would be a box of loose-leaf separate documents that can be spread out, shuffled around etc – but will, in practice, have the sheets gathered in order as the book.
The reader is put in the position of being a participant in the same sensemaking process. It is anticipated that the book will be informed by a number of themes: What counts as evidence? What sense can be made of things when you only have part of the information? What connections can be made? What is reliable? Another thread is around ideas about how events across time are connected through people’s lives.
Doing some initial research. None of this was familiar, in the sense of the advice often given to writers to write about what you know. Some research was necessary. I looked up details of World War 2 military air crashes. I looked up maps of US Air Force bases in 1944. I read articles on the nature of time and got lost in various theories of what constitutes Time. I diverged into wormholes, introductory quantum physics, time travel, history of the US 8th Airforce. There were readings on what constituted evidence, or reality, or sensemaking. I dwelt briefly on New York hotels; the mechanisms of hotel key cards; the recruitment of teams to work on decoding at Bletchley Park, and other interesting side wanders. Some of this informed my ideas. Much was simply discarded.
Next steps:
The above was a process of looking outwards within a very loose framework – a process of scooping, gathering, sifting. The task now is to work the resulting melange up into a credible narrative – a process more like weaving, or painting, or doing a jigsaw. The whole thing has to hang together satisfactorily. The balancing act is to have sufficient detail to make it feel realistic and credible, but not so much detail as to become boring. Certainly, there have to be no cases where an expert (or pedant) can discount the whole with ‘But that’s not how things were in reality!’
This may take me a few months of writing, with blocks of text being shuffled around to get the best sequence. If the documents on which the book rests are evidence of something, then there will need to be decisions about what, and how much, to reveal to the reader, in what sequence, as things move along.
I am quite looking forward to doing the mechanics, the jigglings and jugglings – as much as the writing itself, getting some sort of flow going; finding words that do work beyond their allotted task; to do the editing, spellchecking, grammar revisions, realigning non-sequiteurs, the final polishing, the tightening up of loose and baggy bits, and the fleshing out of any sections that feel too sparse.
The aim is still to keep the whole less of a linear storyline, and more of a collection of discrete pieces of information/evidence to be played with, thought about, and linked together into possible chains of understandings …. with a structure that allows for a degree of flexibility but also provides a gradual structured revelation of clues and possibilities – asking the reader ‘So what do you make of it all so far?’
I don’t want it to be a straight mystery, nor a war story, nor an eventual romance – maybe more of an open puzzle. It may still end up as a very short book. An option would be to have a longer book with several parts: The story as above; then a section that is based on the people in the group – their actions, thoughts, relationships etc; and maybe a final section is philosophical/theoretical on the nature of understanding. None of this is determined at this stage.
There is no deadline, but I do set myself some outline intentions: Do the next couple of bits before Easter; aim to have a good enough draft of the whole by the Autumn; get final text up ready for publishing before the end of 2024 …. Leaving 2025 for Book 10.