Visualisation and writing: living the dream

A recent conversation with a fellow blogger and novel-writer exposed how my perception of my novel, in its transition from MS Word to this blog, changed.

"All of a sudden," I said, "it was real, it was no longer a secret project, it has an audience."

Novels in their early stages become real through a series of processes: from notebook to screen, screen to printed A4 page of double-spaced chapters, then a whole manuscript, then tailored to however the agents want it ...

My book is taking on corporeal form, the more I work at this, the more I plan, the more I push ahead with my plans for self-publishing.I can imagine what it will be like holding my professionally printed book in my hand.

I'm a very visual person. Most of my education has revolved around film and media, barring my most recent journalistic studies. I love film and photography and art.

During the writing of Annie, the Doll, its Thief and Her Lover, I used various visualisation techniques to "be present" within the narrative and characters.

In some cases this involved downloading pictures of actors I liked who I thought could easily play the characters, should the story ever be turned into a film.

For example, David Thewlis is my ginger-haired hero Simon; Kate began life as looking a bit like Kate Winslet, though maybe not as glamorous. Annie was depicted in her character file as an unnamed Victorian woman.

When I drew up my publication schedule and made this blog, I began to realise that the novel I wanted to hold in my hand could really be real. I feel its weight in my hand, I turn its pages and I know what it looks like.

Another turning point was when I took the cover photo. I am beginning to imagine myself at public readings, talking to reporters. It's not day-dreaming, it's preparation.

I loved one particular poignantly perceptive Doctor Who episode in the last series. He and Amy took Vincent Van Gough into the future to see why his creative toil was so worthwhile, why his self-belief wasn't just insanity and ego.

So, it might help us, in the grey moments where we struggle to believe in ourselves, to look to our intended futures and legacies.

See your audience - whether that's great-great grandchildren or international lovers of literature - they hold your book, they're are reading your story, the smiles on their lips and the tears on their cheeks are coaxed by the persistence of your voice down the ages.

We're not all Vincent Van Gough, or "insert preferred literary example here", but we still live the dream.