For the first few years as an aspiring stand-up comic, one must tread the rocky paths of the open spots. These are the 5 minute – or if you are lucky 10 – slots that most smaller comedy clubs make available to new comics honing their techniques.

The open spot routine goes as follows:

• Travel for 2-3 hours to the venue
• Hang around for 1-2 hours waiting for your spot
• Spend 5 minutes in front of a disinterested audience who paid to see ‘real’ comics
• Hope the club promoter saw enough promise in you to give you another spot in a few months
• Go home and re-consider any gags that did not generate a laugh

That may seem rather cynical view, but that is the process when reduced down to its core. It is genuinely much more fun that it sounds, however. These open spots are best handled by packing them with quick-fire gags and quips; fire stuff into the mic, then get the heck off. I found the minimal audience interaction very uninspiring.

So I moved into running a couple of (very) small clubs and acting as compere. The compere spends several time slots working with that night’s audience, warming them up, cooling them down, and generally creating each appropriate segue from the previous to the next act. Most importantly, there is an evolving relationship over the period of the show.

I’m getting to the point, thank you for hanging in there…

I experience a similar problem in the difference between writing a short story compared to writing a novel. But this is not centred around the act of concise writing.

I want to get to know them

Stories are about people – at least I believe mine are, regardless of their respective settings. There’s little more satisfying than learning about the characters one places into a story, understanding their nuances, discovering their quirks, ’seeing’ them play out their lives.

The short story simply does not have the space or the time for such luxuries and that is where my challenge lies. These are interesting, nay fascinating people (they must be as I am including them in my story!).

The dead end of death

This problem is particularly acute in a series of short stories I am writing and planning which will form a collection entitled “Six Deaths” – the title is something of a giveaway – and as you might guess, each character has but a brief sojourn within the pages. And there lies my personal challenge when writing shorts: I want to know these individuals, get under their skins, understand who they really are before… well, let’s just say before they up and leave.

I find writing short stories about the characters that inhabit Edwardian London in the TableRappers book(s), so very much easier and satisfying because I know them such that I do not feel I am missing out on learning about them as individuals.

It feels so utterly disrespectful to create a character for the sake of merely a few thousand words. Perhaps I just need to grow some thicker skin and be a little more ruthless with my characters. Hmm… Six Deaths, how more ruthless can one be..?

The day-to-day demands of working in the UK but with colleagues based in San Francisco, presents challenges to available time. With work heating up for me at around the time it should be winding down each day (early evening), and the potential for it to extend well past a sensible bedtime, the only controlled and contained time span to write appears first thing in the morning. But there’s a problem… I cannot write in the mornings!

I was lucky enough to have time for a lunch with the entertainingly cranky John Dvorak while in San Francisco a few weeks ago. We chatted about writing. He, like nearly all the writers with whom he is acquainted, writes better in the mornings “before all the crap of the day has taken hold”.

I, on the other hand, rarely find the juices flowing until darkness has set in and there’s a distinct chance that the day is not going to throw me another twelve curve balls. There’s a psychological security in that knowledge, you see.

Before it becomes a full-time prospect

It’s my first novel. Like any fledgling writer, the chance of earning a living wage from such projects is marginally better than winning the National Lottery. Four of five books under my belt and there’s a chance of that dream, but for now writing must find its place amongst everything else.

So how on earth do I switch into becoming a morning writer?
I am one of those slow-wakers: up to an hour of numb-brain, zombie-shuffle during which breakfast, some BBC news, and the necessary ablutions seem to occur without any real effort or conscious intent. Eventually, there I am at my desk tip-tapping my login ready for the morning’s mundane tasks. Creative writing is far from my mind.

When it’s dark and the work day is done, my mind comes alive, creatively. Characters speak up and scenes play themselves out so that I have to type twice as fast to keep up. When all the gears are properly lubricated, 800-1000 quite acceptable words in an evening session is not unheard of. In the morning, I am lucky to find a coherent sentence any more creative than an email or a blog post.

I do not believe in insurmountable obstacles, and have discovered way to dramatically increase the chances of triggering creativity when it becomes necessary. Although a method for morning writing still eludes me, I’m looking forward to solving this particular problem.