In the midst of a book signing in the Spring of 2024, a young man named Evan came to visit. He had a nervous spring in his step and a quiet energy that demanded I pay attention. When he spoke, he did so with a soft intensity. He did not seem the kind of person who shouted to make himself heard and so I leaned in close as he explained the hitch in his plans to conquer the world.
“Mister Roberts, my name is Evan and I have the whispers of an idea forming for a story I would like to write, but I don’t know how start it,” he said, looking at me as if I could simply pluck the idea out of his head, turn it over in my hands like a Rubik’s Cube and hand it back solved.
I sighed. I have been an author for many years and this particular question was one of the most asked. If only the answer was easy.
“Do you want to know the secret Evan?” I asked him.
Evan nodded and his eyes lit up. The revelation that hits everyone with the foolish notion to pick up a pen or peck at a keyboard was about to be imparted, and he was hungry for it like a dog salivating over a juicy piece of meat.
“The secret,” I said with a mysterious air, “is to write one word.”
“One word?” He jerked back in surprise as if I had reached across the table and slapped him. “One word? What good is one word?” he spluttered, incredulous. “That doesn’t help at all!”
“One word often leads to another,” I said with a wry smile. “Once you have the first word on the page the next one comes a little easier and before you know it, you have a sentence. That is how stories get told – one tortured word at a time.”
The look of shock gave way to confusion. “But how do I know that the first word is the right one?” he said.
“That’s the exciting part!” I said, “Once you have the first word there is no way of telling if it is a steaming turd or a diamond until you put another word next to it.”
Evan bit his lip and pondered that for a moment.
“Listen Evan, do you really want to be a writer?” I asked.
He nodded again. “I think so Mr Roberts.”
“Do you write every day?” I asked.
“Huh? No I don’t,” he said.
“Well then, how do you expect to be any good at it unless you try?”
The penny dropped and realisation dawned on his face. “Oh, I never looked at it like that. I though it all just… just happened.”
“That’s how it happens,” I said smiling. “Now, would you like a book signed, because there is quite a queue behind you?”
He went red and muttered an apology before handing me a copy of my most recent book. I opened the cover and scribbled a brief note before signing.
One word at a time! B. Roberts.
I handed it back to him and said, “Good luck Evan, I hope to read your work one day.”